#did you all not think I would abuse my power to wish the BEST boy a happy birthday

[peakygirl1919]

Part 1: The Bloody Beginning

Summary: The Emperor is dying, but Geta takes matters into his own hands.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: no spoilers for the movie// angst// violence// death// implied past abuse// period typical warnings

It was silent in the Palatine; save for the rustle of silk and the moans of a dying man. Septimus Severus was dying. It was treason to say so: any, whether they be slave, servant or senator who mentioned it would be executed-  but it was true. 

Geta stared at the man he had looked up to all his life lying weak and emaciated on the bed. Death seemed to have shrunk him, his hair greasy and matted on his forehead and his beard coming away in patches. He had fallen ill while on a campaign in Britannica, an mild wound putrifying until it was grave enough to endanger the life of the emperor. 

He was currently lurking behind a plinth in the Emperor’s bedchamber, his brother Caracalla crouched behind him, mild whimpers escaping from his mouth, his hand clenching Geta’s leg. 

His father wasn’t lucid right now, and for that he was thankful. When the Praetorians carried him in, he was roaring with rage, spittle flying from his mouth. Geta could not believe his usually cool father could make such noises. His mother, Julia Domna had tried to placate the Emperor, but had received a strike to head in thanks. It was at that point Geta had retreated to the shadows of the chamber, thinking it would be best not to get in the way and somehow bring the familiar wrath upon his head. 

More moans left his father’s dry and cracked lips, and a sheen of sweat lay over body. His mother had now taken up guard by his bedside, a delicate handkerchief pressed to cut on her cheek, despite the strong stench of death flowing from the man. Her eyes were empty as the cloth was stained red. 

The oil lamps flickered and grew dim as the hours passed by. It was a clear night, and Geta could see the moon’s reflection over the city that stretched out before them. The news of the Emperor’s imminent departure to the next life had the citizens concerned; they knew the transfer of power was no sure thing. The vibrant stores that lined the Via Sacra were boarded up; no noises came from the pleasure houses and street food vendors absent. Silence fell over the great city- a collective breath holding. 

The only place that showed evidence that people still remained in the city was the light that burst from the temples. Geta wished he could join the worshippers, and beg for favour from the Gods.

A whisper made its way across the room, and Geta instantly stiffened, the blood draining from his face and the hairs on his neck standing on edge. This was it. 

‘Geta…, come, my son…’. His father was calling him over.

Caracalla’s whimpers turned into cries, and Geta reached down to smooth his hair trying to pretend they were still boys, playing hide and seek in many rooms in the palace.

His gold-trimmed sandals made no sound crossing the marble floor; he felt like he was floating.

The whisper of his name became more insistent, even in death his Father had no patience for him. He moved forward towards the imperial bed, and knelt down next to the edge. His Father already appeared corpse-like; his bloated skin taking already hanging from his bones. 

He glanced pointedly at his mother, but she either did not notice or take heed from it. If she had, then perhaps her fate would have been different. Geta noted her disrespect and stored it in the back of his mind, he would deal with everyone once he had power.

Prior to the Emperor’s departure for his most recent and evidently final military campaign, he had been named co-augusti to rule in his stead alongside Caracalla. It would not do thinking what would occur if Caracalla had been left to rule on his own. 

‘Geta, you are to listen to me carefully. My time is short, I know that, despite the sycophantic crowing from all that I will live. I am not a fool. You will reign, this I know,’

Geta sharply inhaled. 

His father’s bloodshot eyes locked onto him with fervour, and Geta felt like the Gods themselves had plucked his thoughts from his head and planted them into his fathers. 

‘You will reign alongside your brother,’ 

Geta began to protest, the madness that had been evident from his brother’s birth grew worse by the year, his lucid moments becoming further apart.

His father began to cough, blood and sputum flowing from his mouth like the Tiber. The Gods would claim his soon, Geta thought, not without a spark of anticipation. With clear effort, his father continued on.

‘You are as strong as your weakness, protect him, do not quarrel with him, it will be set against the other that you both shall fall’ The Emperor took a deep breath, his pale chest struggling to rise. He seemed panicked now, no longer so brave in the face of death. He spoke rapidly and breathlessly ‘Pay the soldiers, never allow a united senate and scorn all others.’

This last point was but an echo of a whisper, Geta felt the words imprint on his mind. Scorn alright. He would obliterate the others. 

He felt his mother’s quiet gaze return to the floor, no doubt weighing in her calculating mind what her next advantageous play would be. 

But the bubble of quiet reverence had been broken. Caracalla began to wail and scream, throwing himself to the floor in his fractured state. Geta looked at him and felt no pity, only acceptance. He had always been this way, still a child in many ways. Sometimes Geta envied him for his ignorance, but sometimes Geta hated him with a red fiery passion. How could it be fair that he was the younger brother taking on the mantle of the older. How could it be fair that he had to shoulder the responsibility for both of them? But whenever these thoughts struck him he reasoned the Gods must have placed him in this position for a reason. That reason was clear to Geta now. 

It was the will of the Gods that Geta took his place on the throne. With Caracalla, technically by his side. But that was a minor detail. One that could be solved, if he so wished, but he did not. At least he knew where his brother’s loyalties lay. 

He felt heat pool in his belly as he thought of the future. But he couldn’t ahead of himself. Not yet. His father was still in the realm of the living, his mother plotted against him, and the loyalty of the army and senate had not yet been secured. There was work to do. 

Caracalla had moved on from simply harming himself and now began to tear the decorative hangings and tapestries off the wall; knocking over busts of Emperors past and topple furniture. Must he do everything in this family, Geta thought to himself. 

He spoke with new-found authority to his mother, Julia Domna, ‘why don’t you see to my brother, ensure he does himself no harm. It is not good for my father the emperor to see him so distressed at this time,’. He tried to hide the excitement he felt at taking that tone with her, and still his racing heart. 

He felt himself, be weighed, measured and found wanting by his mother. She made no reply as she stood up and went over to Caracalla. He clung to her robes and cried loudly into her stomach. Julia Domna stood with her arms at her side and held herself rigid, hands slack. She guided Caracalla away, back to his own chambers no doubt, where he could be comforted by whoever was warming his bed tonight. Geta turned back to face his father. He had no wish to see his mother’s empty platitudes. 

Geta was finally alone with his father. The only noise was the death rattle of his chest as his body continued to fight the inevitable. Geta walked closer and closer to the bed, uncaringly stepping over the broken glass and wooden splinters littered over the floor. 

The flecks of gold in Geta’s dark eyes flashed in the dim light as his face pressed close to his father’s face. He saw clearly that the Gods had renounced their favour and protection from the Emperor, with every passing breath his father seemed more man than immortal Emperor chosen by the gods.

He slipped a dagger from his belt. It was a small thing, for ceremonial use only. But he reasoned this was a ritual of sorts, and it felt fitting. The light weight of it felt heavy in his hands; the weight of consequence. 

It had a golden hilt, with a careful depiction of the twin founders of Rome with the she-wolf standing protectively over them. Her eyes were set with winking rubies, and Geta felt their divine stare upon him. 

His father did not see the metallic shine of steel in the moonlight; did not hear the grunt of effort as the blade was thrust into his chest; did not feel Geta’s fist bracing itself against his shoulder; did not taste the coppery salt of his blood dripping from his lips; did not smell Geta’s spice and incense scent as he leaned over to remove the knife. 

No, his father would not notice anything anymore. Geta watched the red blood bloom against the pale of the sheets, as his father gurgled and turned translucent. The dagger was slick in his fingers, coated with blood.

He let it drop from his hands, the clatter it made on cool marble flooring obscene. Its purpose was served. He had prevailed. His father was dead. The emperor was dead. 

He felt laughter bubble up inside him, but he knew the gods would not approve of humour at this most sacred of moments- when he had been made their vessel, through which their divine judgement had been rendered.

A high-pitch giggle broke the silence and Geta tensed, almost checking it was not him that made that noise. But it was his twin; his other-half. Caracalla must had wandered back into the room and had been standing there for Gods knows how long. 

Geta didn’t know how to break the silence- and was about to speak when Caracalla said, ‘He’s dead,’ in a soft, airy voice. Geta nodded. 

‘You did this for us? For both of us?,’. Geta nodded again, not trusting himself to remain emotionless if he answered using his voice. 

‘Well, this will make things more interesting…’ Caracalla trailed off, as if not sure exactly how things would become more interesting, but certain in the knowledge that they would. 

The brothers could have stayed there in that moment, forever. On the cusp between childhood and adulthood; the uncertain intake of breath before moving on from one stage of life to next. Caracalla was often happy to remain in this shapeless place, not concerning himself with reality, with the practicalities. 

But Geta knew had to act to control the narrative, to seize control of the guards, to summon the senate, and to proclaim his divine authority- and to protect his brother. 

Caracalla stalked over to the body of his father and gave his rapidly cooling body a poke in the stomach. His finger came away stained red. Geta turned away and reached over to a bell to summon a servant, letting the collected mask of his face fall, allowing his anxiety and nerves to rule him for a moment. 

The slave drifted into the room silently, eyes cast downwards, not wishing to bring Geta’s rage upon his head. 

Geta looked up and snapped his face back into one of cool arrogance and hard eyes. ‘Summon the senate, the first proclamation from their emperors is to be heard.’ 

The slaves hastily bowed and darted away. 

During the exchange Caracalla had slipped beside him and grasped his hand, their father’s blood sealing their palms. 

‘What do we do now?’, Caracalla asks hesitantly, glancing at Geta from lidded eyes. 

Geta paused, before answering with a smirk on his face, ‘Whatever we want.’

A/N: well…. that was dramatic. Apologies to those looking for historical accuracy- I played around with the death of Septimus Severus (he didn’t make it back to Rome and died on a military campaign); and anything else wrong is my fault, sorry!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are encouraged and greatly appreciated. 

Let me know if you would like this series to continue, and if so, what other snippets of Geta’s life you would like to see…

TAGS:

@fallout-girl219

@justnobodynothingmore

@quuinyoung

@barcelonaloverf1life

@helsa3942

@aisling1985

[fe3h-polls]

SPECIAL CLAUDE BIRTHDAY POLL

wish the golden boy himself a happy birthday!!

[concreteangel92]

Do you write angst? Could you write something? You decide 😊

The One Who Never Was

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: Noah being a complete and utter fuck boy, talks of sex but nothing detailed, breakups, playing with someone’s feelings, gaslighting, love bombing, mental and emotional abuse, depression, co-dependency, unhealthy relationships, fwb, situationship, no happy ending in this story, drinking, self destructive behaviour, let me know if I’ve missed something!

Noah is not a nice person in this fic, if that is going to bother you then please don’t read. I did also picture long haired Noah when I was writing this.

I hope you all enjoy (if that’s the right word for a story like this ahaha) and I’m hoping to get back into my writing this week as I’m not back at work until Saturday (if I’m well enough) and this is the first time in about 6 weeks that I’ve been able to rest and do nothing so I’ll try and be productive with it

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @Ima1986 (never lets me tag you properly for some reason?)

“Hey fancy meeting up today? Feels like it’s been ages”

You nervously sat there waiting for Noah’s response, in your mind already knowing the answer.

You and Noah had been in this ‘situationship’ for a year now, you’d started off as just friends and then one night, it had all changed.

You’d not long been out of a bad relationship when Noah first text you and asked if you wanted to hang out, you knew what he wanted and at first you thought it was a good idea, help you move on from the last dickhead that you’d been with.

“Best way to get over a man is to get under one”

So you went.

After that night, Noah then wanted to date you, he’d asked to take you out for a meal but you’d politely declined as you wanted to stay single longer so you could heal but you spoke about being friends with benefits with him instead, something he was completely up for. Looking back, you had no idea of everything that was about to happen.

•••••

You were sitting on Noah’s sofa, a film was on in the background and Noah was cooking you both dinner.

“What do you think of this?”

Noah had walked back into the living room with his hand under a spoon, you wrapped your lips around it to taste his home made sauce for the chicken he was cooking.

“Oh my god, that’s amazing! Since when did you cook?”

He gave you a big smile and a cheeky wink as he replied “I’ve always loved cooking, it’s even better when I have someone to cook for”

You’d both be curled up on the sofa, eating his amazing food before you’d spend the rest of the night together in his bed.

Noah had this power of making you blush with every word he said, he always made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

“You’re like no woman I’ve ever been with”

He’d text you first always, told you how he felt about you and that you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Oh shut up!”

“I’m serious, I don’t know how I’ve got so lucky to be with someone as gorgeous as you”

The fact he’d accepted the friends with benefits over an actual date made you feel he would wait for you, that he completely understood that you needed time.

And let’s talk about the sex. The sex was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, he was such a pleasure dom, making sure you were completely satisfied again and again and again.

No man has ever made you feel the things that he did, he was willing to do everything with you.

“Whatever you want to to try, I’m down for it, even the weird shit”

“Weird shit? 😂”

“Any kinks you might not have tried because others think they are weird, I’ll do it all for you”

Noah always held you until you feel asleep, you fighting it, not wanting the night to end.

“Shhh, I’m here”

His fingers would gently caress your cheek while your eyes became heavy, feeling so warm and content in his arms

You’d wish you had longer, knowing that by morning, you’d both be going about your day and then never knowing when you’d see him again due to your schedules.

At some point, during the long into night deep chats, the dinner dates, the small details that Noah always remembered and done, you fell for him.

••••••

“Sorry I can’t today, busy in the studio”

That was it, it was so cold and blunt, there was no warmth in his messages anymore. Not that your heart allowed you to fully see it.

You felt the tears prick at the corner of your eyes as your heart became heavy and you felt the sinking feeling in your gut.

All of your friends have told you to leave him, that he’s making his feelings clear but every time you have tried to pull away, Noah always had the right words to say or a good excuse for his actions.

So you stayed.

And here you were, a shell of the person you used to be, when you first started this with Noah, you had such a spark in your eyes and you felt so happy.

Now, happiness with him was like a drug, he was like a drug. You knew he was bad for you, you knew he was killing you. But you couldn’t stop.

You stared at the screen, almost like your will alone could change the words. You scrolled up and saw it was much the same.

“Hey you about today?” “Sorry I’m working today”

“Fancy some dinner later?” “Maybe. I’ll text you in a bit”

Unless he messaged you…

“Hey baby, you free today? I miss you”

“Yeah I’m free, what do you fancy?”

“You 😏”

“Cheeky haha no seriously, what do you want to do?”

“Come to mine and hang out?”

You knew every time that it would lead to sex, you prayed it would, so you never said no to him.

You convinced yourself that he loved you as much as you loved him. Over the last year, you’d never felt anything like it before.

The only way you could describe it was that whenever you were with him, your soul felt at home. It didn’t matter what you were doing, you could be doing nothing and you were so contented to be around him.

You were always laughing together, you fitted together physically and just overall seemed like each other’s perfect partner.

You saw him for who he was, not this big rock star. You knew the rumours about him but you saw another side to him, a side he wouldn’t let many see. You knew he loved you deep down. Noah just struggled to show it because of his past.

You knew you shouldn’t make excuses for him, what’s the age old saying?

If a man truly wants to be with you then they won’t let a single thing come in between you.

And Noah gave you excuses most of the time, would take hours to reply and then blame it on work. You knew that wasn’t always true but you just accepted the behaviour because you’d fallen in love with him.

You’d fallen in love with the man who made you laugh until your belly hurt, who looked at you like you were the only other person in existence. Noah had recently said that he loved you back for the first time.

••••••

2 weeks ago, the last time you saw him in person.

You’d gone out for a few drinks with your friends and knew Noah was out already so you gave him the invite, not actually expecting him to show up in all honesty.

So when you arrived at the bar so see Noah stood there with your favourite drink next to his, your heart swelled within your chest.

The smile he gave you matched your own, his hug was so warm and for a moment, you felt like the whole world had stopped.

You sat down with your friends, both next to each other and clearly not paying attention to anything else around you other than each other.

In the words that your friend text you later….“A bomb could have gone off in that bar and neither of you two would have known, you couldn’t take your eyes off each other”

You both laughed and chatted all night, it only when you were outside getting some air that you decided to be honest.

“I love you Noah, I know you won’t say it back because you’re scared but I love you”

Noah stood and stared at you for a moment before he smiled and brushed your hair behind your ear.

“I love you too, always have”

The feeling in that moment was indescribable, the man you truly believed you were meant to be with had finally said those words back. He had finally admitted his true feelings.

The rest of the night you felt like you were walking on a cloud, you knew now that everything was going to be ok. All the heartache and loneliness before Noah had lead you up to this moment. To know it was all worth it.

You couldn’t stop smiling all night, even after he’d said that he needed to go, you gave him a big kiss and a hug and said that you couldn’t wait to see him again and finally start dating properly and have a relationship.

For Noah to ghost for you about a week, every message you sent was left unread, all the phone calls ignored.

Every time you felt your heart shatter, how could he do this? Surely not after he’d admitted he loved you? Who can do that?

Your friends were adamant that he was playing you and that you needed to block him.

You sat and cried your heart out, you drank your pain away and tried to find the answers at the bottom of a bottle, you’d do anything to numb the pain that you were feeling.

The feeling of having your whole future ripped away after just being given to you was soul destroying. You have hardly slept, hardly eaten. The weight was falling off your body as the days had turned into weeks.

It was only a few days ago that you’d finally had a response from him.

“Sorry been so busy with work, hope you’re ok”

But when you tried to arrange to see him, you got all the excuses once again. The never ending story of this game of cat and mouse.

You’d even confronted him about his behaviour.

“How could you tell me that you loved me to then ghost me? Who does that?”

“I wasn’t lying to you, I honestly have been busy, I can’t just drop everything for you”

You knew it was wrong, but you still wanted him, you craved him.

••••••

Sipping on the vodka in your glass was the only comfort for you at this moment. You’d text your best friend but of course just had the same old reply.

“Just block him, he’s made his feelings clear, he’s making a complete fool out of you”

You decided enough was enough, you’d walk over to his and see him in person, you couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore.

Walking to Noah’s was almost like a dream, but not the good kind, the feeling of dread was making you feel sick with every step, especially by the time you were outside his front door.

Taking a deep breath, you rung the doorbell, every nerve in your body on edge in preparation for the confrontation you knew was coming.

After a moment, you heard the sound of footsteps before the door swung open to reveal Noah’s tall frame.

“What are you doing here?”

You were sure you looked awful, dark circles around your puffy eyes, hair a mess.

“I needed to speak to you, can I please come in?”

Noah looked annoyed but stepped aside so you could enter.

“I haven’t got long, I’m going out soon”

Your chest became tighter at his words, the excuses already starting.

“Then just be honest with me Noah. What the fuck am I to you?”

He looked slightly shocked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re my friend y/n, I care a lot for you, you know that”

You couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Do I? You told me you loved me and then ghosted me! No one is this fucking busy Noah! I’m tired of the games, I want you to be honest with me!”

The tears had already started, leaving a warm trail down your cheeks as you spoke.

Noah seemed to look anywhere but you, not able to meet your eyes as he answered.

“We have already been through this, I’ve just been busy”

“So you keep saying. May I remind you Noah that you originally chased me! You were the one who wanted to date, you were the one texting me and doing everything you could to make me fall for you! And now what? You just can’t be bothered anymore and don’t have the balls to tell me? You scared you’ll lose your booty call if you do?”

The last year was finally catching up with you, all the games and played feelings were coming to the surface, something you could clearly see was bothering Noah.

“Or are you too scared to actually commit because you’re frightened of getting hurt?”

“Are you for real? I’m not scared of anything!”

“Then why?!”

Noah throw his hands up in frustration and paced around.

“Because I don’t want to be with you! It’s that simple! You’re not the only girl I can have or have had! You’re a joke, you’re treating me like I’m your fucking boyfriend and I’m not, we were never dating!”

You stood in shock, how could he say that, although you never had an actual label, you’d been a couple in every way but the title and he knew that, he even wanted the two of you to be ‘exclusive to each other’.

But now it was starting to make sense, why he wouldn’t take it further.

“So you made me feel like I was the only woman for you, why? You told me that you loved me, said you wanted to be with me. Fucking hell, we even sat and told each other about all the dark shit in our pasts! You once said to me that I was the one person you never wanted to hurt!”

Noah’s face had become hard, a sign that he was shutting down from the conversation.

“And I didn’t. I’m not your boyfriend, I never have been and never will be. You’re making this all up in your head and you’re acting crazy. I’d like you to leave right now”

Your body was shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop falling as you stared at him. Your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Where’s my Noah gone? My Noah would never have done any of this?”

Instead of answering, Noah simply opened the door, void of all emotion on his face. You stood in complete disbelief before you admitted defeat, your pride had already been shattered and you couldn’t take anymore.

You ran out of the door and kept running down his driveway. You collapsed at the corner of his road, the tears never stopping as your crying pulled your breath from your lungs.

You pulled out your phone and found Noah’s chat, the sinking feeling you had was confirmed when you’d tried to call but realised you’d been blocked.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it, your Noah, the man who made you feel so special and loved could never do this. Where was he?

•••••

The days turned into weeks, turned into months and the heartache never stopped.

Noah had ripped out your heart and broken you as a person. Your friend’s were always concerned for your mental state as you tried to navigate a life without him without any closure.

You didn’t see him again, unless it was online, but you knew he was just fine. Every time you saw his photo, he looked so happy and care free, he was living his dream, the band was starting to go viral and you knew this was only the beginning.

The rumours of who he was dating of course started to spread, each one like a knife to your heart.

You never got the closure your mind needed, you had to move on with no answers. Trying to piece yourself back together.

It was the hardest break up you’d ever gone through, and although others may say “well you weren’t actually together”

That was worse, he was the man you had completely fallen in love with, who never truly loved you back but made you feel like he did.

Noah was the one who never was.

[bonefall]

What are your thoughts on Crowfeather's Trial? I already know how you feel about my other least favorite super editions so I'm curious about your opinions on this one lol

I think at best it's just okay. Like...it feels like they're going "see!! We're holding him accountable!!" But then they just kinda...dont?? Like I didn't feel any differently about Crowfeather by the end than I did when I started. There's parts I like about it but overall it just fell flat for me

Like how am I supposed to like this guy when he's just constantly a dick?? he can't stand Harespring for some reason, there's a moment where he's like "I wish my son was dead" and when Nightcloud goes missing he barely gives a damn and doesn't bother to even try and look for her

Anyways I'll forever be mad that they gave this guy a whole super edition and he'll probably have the most dramatic death ever while Leafpool suffered her entire life (and afterlife) and got killed off screen. Hoping he gets jumped by rats and dies from infection

I'm not a big fan of it. It's one of the better written SEs and has a clear goal in mind, but every time I have to encounter it, it feels like it's sidelining the characters who actually deserve to be explored in favor of Crowfeather Sadboy Whinging.

Breezepelt has 12 books detailing how being mistreated by Crowfeather is making him worse, and showing that social alienation is pushing him towards the Dark Forest. Nightcloud was demonized by the old team even though they wrote Crowfeather deflecting all the blame of Breeze's behavior onto her, giving the new team a great opportunity to correct the mistakes of the old writers... and they decided to focus on Crowfeather instead.

And, mind you, they conveniently leave out massive details about how BADLY Crowfeather was abusing his child.

There's this one part of the book where he learns that Breezepelt broke his leg as a kid and he feels like shit for not remembering it, and it's supposed to be a big moment where Crowfeather realizes he was apathetic and careless. But he WASN'T just apathetic and careless. We see him TEACHING his child xenophobia in order to mock and offend Leafpool, smacking Breezepaw around for being 'rude' (the way Crowf always is), and screeching at him for having basic needs like hunger or rest.

Crowfeather WASN'T just a sad, sad boy who didn't pay attention to his kid because he was too busy pining over Dead Wife. What he did to Breezepelt wasn't just neglect; it was physical and emotional abuse.

The book DOES ultimately hold him responsible for how Breezepelt turned out, yes. But it doesn't properly focus on WHAT made Breeze come out the way he did. It wasn't genes, it wasn't Daddy Not Smile At Me. I can only assume the reason why they didn't address how ghoulish Crowfeather actually was is because they knew that being honest and direct about him abusing his child would make him unsympathetic.

Which is a problem, because, y'know, you can just make it Breezepelt's Trial and NOT have to thread that needle??

And furthermore... the book is trying to show Crowfeather addressing that he's kind of an asshole and moving on from it, earning deputyship as a reward for his growth, but what the book really demonstrates to me is that Crowfeather is a dickhead who actually shouldn't have ANY power at all. I don't understand why people would trust him or want him as their leader. I don't see any reason to think that he would be responsible with the lives of an entire Clan of people.

Before I hear clown shoes; if you think that means I "just don't like" that he would be an ""interesting leader,"" pile yourself back into the car with your 30 other jesters and drive away. I mean that it feels completely wrong that any character in-universe would look at the person who exists in Crowfeather's Trial, and say, "this is a person who would help me effectively rule."

What he does, all-book-long, is show that he's an emotionally unstable loose canon borderline incapable of self-reflection. Other characters have to directly tell him "you should try being less of an asshole" and "maybe be nice to your family sometimes?" while he comes up with bullshit reasons to seethe at every character who wanders into his line of sight.

I massively resent the fact that even Leafpool has to mommy his baby ass towards the end of the book. After he spends a good part of Po3 and OotS finding roundabout ways to snipe at her for not giving him exactly what he wanted. It falls on HER to be the one he can ask for advice on how to fix the family he treated like shit his whole life.

no that's not hyperbole she literally. textually. is compared to his mother.

and he can't even be gracious about it, he's instantly all huffy and offended, completely proving her point. Why the hell would anyone make this guy a deputy? The man needs TWO motherly figures giving him the exact same basic advice and a dedicated super edition before he adjusts his behavior even slightly.

(watch him get Boring Leader Syndrome the minute he inevitably becomes Crowstar, too)

Sooo, in a nutshell;

It's one of the better SEs. unfortunately.

Crowfeather is held accountable for being the problem in his own relationships, thank god

but it doesn't fully hold the actions we SAW in the main series books accountable, seemingly purposefully leaving out the worst things he did.

Another WC book where a male character gets an insane amount of sympathy and rewarding that female characters are NEVER deigned deserving of.

Should have been Breezepelt's story. I strongly dislike how Breeze's "redemption" was based on his shitty dad saying sorry. He deserved an actual character arc struggling with ever trusting WindClan again after they took his dad's judgement about him at face value.

Absolutely awful that Leafpool is killed between books and given a trial where they consider sending her to hell when they finally DO get around to showing how she died, while Crowfeather gets an SE about the whole world holding his hand so he can fix the family he broke in 5 easy steps.

Its biggest problem is that it is about a character whose actions you can go and read about. It doesn't deliver on the setup of 12 books of Crowfeather being an absolute git; it's a good story for the version of Crowfeather the new team seems to have created in their heads.

Doesn't stop me from manifesting him getting an infection and having a Sandstorm-tier disrespectful death in the upcoming series, lmao.

[lawsvalentine]

Congratulations on getting 1K love! I already have a request and I’m a bit excited at the moment so I apologize if I rushed in too quickly.

Could I get NSFW letters B,C & K for Luffy?

Monkey D. Luffy NSFW Alphabet

• B, C, K •

Cee’s Note: Thank you my dear ☺️ and as you wish ;)

[minors do NOT interact; explicit content ahead]

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs

and also their partner's)

I feel like Luffy isn’t the type to have a specific thing that he prefers about himself but if he had to choose, it would be his mouth.

Ok hear me out gshshs all the things he loves to do is with his mouth. He loves to eat, laugh, eat, smile, eat, eat you out 🌝 did I mention eat?

Luffy loves many things about your body but if he had to choose his absolute favorite it would be your tummy.

He loves wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your tummy. He also loves peppering you tummy with kisses. Doesn’t matter if you have a flat tummy or chubby one he loves it regardless

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I'm a

disgusting person)

Luffy cums A LOT

Idk why but i feel like he just has a huge load

Luffy’s diet is literally meat so I don’t think his cum will taste very good but he loves to decorate your body with his cum

He’s a messy boy and best believe it’s gonna be EVERYWHERE sgshd

His favorite place to cum is all over your chest and stomach when he pulls out. Just decorating your tits and lower abdomen in his cum. It turns him on to see you like that .

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

I don’t think Luffy is too kinky but I also think he would be down to explore certain kinks with you

He will definitely abuse his devil fruit powers in the bedroom (with your consent ofc) like stretch his fingers while fingering you. Stretching his tongue muscle when he goes down on you. He will also stretch his dick however big or thick you want it.

FOOD PLAY! Do I even need to elaborate sghsjd

A little bit of exhibitionist because Luffy is just not a very discreet or sneaky person so he will do sexual things in public as if it is the most normal thing, bless his heart 😭

Oh and a little bit of superiority/dominance when it comes to you calling him captain in bed 😉

[deadboy-edwin]

So I had this brainrot about the boys encountering Phobos on a case (yes he's a Greek entity but let me have this) and having to strike a deal. A soul for a peek into a soul.

I started writing a fic... Behold, if anyone wants this snippet.

"Show me your worst fear, so this little girl does not have to live hers."

Phobos is calm when he says it. There is almost a tinge of sadness in his voice. Not something one would expect from a deity of such domains.

"Humanity does not worship me as they did, boys. I do need power to be able to take away her pain. All you need to do is show me. Take my hand."

Edwin, of course, who is deeply in love with Charles, as we all know, refuses to let Charles relive the worst experience in his life (his father's abuse), and is the first to offer his hand to the dark figure in front of them.

Edwin has no fear he has yet to face- he's been through the depths of hell. He's lived (pun not intended) through horrors most could not even imagine. There's nothing that Phobos could show him that Edwin hadn't already been through---

"Oh fuck no," Charles' words are almost vicious, his hand coming to circle around Edwin's wrist, fingers tightening around pale skin and a long sleeve. "No."

"Don't be ridiculous, Charles." Edwin says in his typical matter-of-fact tone. "I will be fine. Would you be so kind as to release me?"

Charles shakes his head, his eyes wild as he looks at his best mate. "You've been through hell twice. I promised myself you'd never return there. Not even in your mind."

Edwin opens his mouth to speak, to contradict Charles' point, but Charles is quick to hold out his open palm to Phobos, glaring at the god vehemently. "Get on with it, then."

"As you wish," Phobos says, taking Charles' hand in his own before Edwin is able to protest.

“Oh Charles,” Edwin’s silky, soft voice says gently, his pale, slender hand coming to brush against Charles’ face. “How could you ever think I would ever be in love with you?” 

Charles should be relieved. This should be a weight off his shoulders. Sure, he’d told Edwin that they had forever to figure out what his confession had meant. He had meant it- truly, from the depths of his dead, unbeating heart, despite not knowing where to even begin with all of it. He had been willing to. Despite Crystal, despite his own unhealed trauma- he knew that he would do anything and anything for Edwin. 

Instead, Edwin’s words burn ice cold.

“I- what- mate-” 

Edwin’s thin lips take on a smile that should be familiar, comforting, but instead, his porcelain features are twisted in a mockery of the affection he’d reserve solely for Charles. He leans in closer to Charles, their noses almost brushing. 

For the first time in thirty years, Charles feels his breath catch in his throat. 

Edwin is still the most beautiful thing that Charles has ever seen in his life (and afterlife). Even when he’s being cruel. 

Especially then, it seems.

Do I... Continue... And post on AO3 maybe...

Likes, comments, thoughts, and prayers are appreciated.

[vitanithepure]

Can we talk about Gale again? And Mystra, one last time? Or at least let me vent? I know it seems like I can't shut up about it, but deal with me this one last time?

It's a long one, an fervent one, and possibly the last one on their relationship because there isn't much to tell for me after this. I just want to lay it to rest on my part, it's too emotionally draining, but I wanted to do this.

Spoilers for them ahead.

It was some time ago I did the talk with Mystra and Gale as an origin character and I needed some time to process this and gather my thoughts. Because I was left reeling with how personal it felt for me and I hated seeing that to bo honest, even though I think whoever did write this scene did it... very well. I feel a lot of thought went into it, so even though it does touch a delicate subject it does it as tastefully as possible.

Okay, let's begin with a real banger.

Why? This will forever read as "I gave you a solution, explain yourself why you didn't die when I asked you to." for me. What kind of messed up question is that to ask someone?

But can I say how there is absolutely no wrong anwser to that asinine question? You can roleplay however you wish, but none of them are bad anwsers. Some of them are more heartbreaking then the others, but none are in any way making excuses. There is nothing to excuse and I'm glad whoever wrote this dialogue recognized this.

I chose the "I have someone else to live for" one here, because I felt that Gale, at this point, really found that special someone, be it a friend or lover, to live for. It's gut-wrenching that he needed someone to keep him alive in the first place, but this is what having an abusive ex does to you.

But the other choices here? All of them fair. She absolutely had no right to ask that of him, no matter the crime, that's just a fucked up thing to expect.

Being afraid to die? Valid, this shouldn't be put up to question.

Two last ones? Pure gold. I treat the fourth one as a direct jab at her own teachings, on how all magic needs to be preserved and studied? It's like him saying "Hey, I did what you expected and now your mad?".

The very last one is poetic justice. "I owe you nothing." and if that were me this would be the absolute end of this discussion. Mic drop, I'm out of here.

And okay, I did take he self-pity route with "I let you down." here becuase this is what I believe is closest to how "canon" Gale feels about this. That's the most heartbreaking thing about it, that he believes he was not worth enough before and is even less now and doesn't deserve love, of any kind.

What are the other options? Well, all in character and each seems like a valid way for Gale to feel. But me, the player, who is fortunate to know some meta knowledge? Oh boy.

"I was a danger to you." No you weren't. She is the goddess of magic, one of the most powerful out here. She is magic. All you could do is make her day worse.

"I disobeyed you." Yeah, you did. And she sentenced you to a slow death for it.

"You were threatened." Eh, not really. But what comes after that statement? "You realised you couldn't control me."? Yes, that is the only thing she felt threatened about - loosing control.

"Our relationship bored you. The orb was just an excuse to end it." I mean... maybe? Not enough is known about it but seeing how all reincarnations of Mystra are fickle lovers at best I would say it's a possibility. Even if it is just his ego speaking here - damn, what a way to end a relationship.

She has the audacity to tell him "he only thought of himself". Pot calling the kettle much?

Oooh, but I love what we can say here. The amout of vicious call outs here is superb.

We get to call out how much of a control freak she is. Then we can say how out of place was her punishment. Because I feel like it was a fucking equivalent of throwing a child into a dark cellar for breaking your favorite cup, while all they wanted to do was wash it for you. That is how imbalanced this whole thing is and I'm not taking criticism on that.

We also get to straight up ask what was the lesson if she never let him know what he really did and left him without means to make things right?

Then my favorite. Straight up ask her how many lives was she willing to sacrifice to get rid of the problem?

And last but not least - call her out on her lies. That's what she did. Why? I don't know. Was she afraid? Possibly, because the Karsite Weave + Crown of Karsus combo could potentially threaten her. Potentially, because as we saw in one of the Gale endings, she has no problem with just getting rid of a newly ascended god wielding them. That leads me to believe she is not afraid of loosing power as much as just being rivaled with. The indignity she has to suffer, truly.

Hit a nail on the head here. Who cares about mortals, if they live or die and in how many droves? Competition comes knocking, so all gloves are off. And that is what I believe to be the crux of the matter. Mystra wants to remove the Absolute (because that's the new upstart god breaking the status quo), the orb containing he rival Weave, the Crown which threatens her rule over magic all in one swoop. Oh, and that one guy who tries too hard and refuses to die. No biggie. Who cares, she has a line of followers who would replace her Chosen at any given time.

I'm a salty bitch over the fact we can't keep the Crown of Karsus, but instead of using it - just hide it away again. Stablize Gale's Karsite Weave and keep that thing around, hidden away. Let her sweat over the idea someone else might find it one day and rival her rule.

I know I'm way too emotional about it, but like I said, it's very personal - I been there, done that, and never recovered in full after it. I'll die defending anyone and any pixels who are struggling with their self-worth and trying to get over an emotionally abusive relationships.

"Be the better person, die saving the world and I'll 'forgive' you." Fuck. You.

And a bonus, for those of you who stuck around till the end, because I was totally naming the screens and yelling at my monitor while doing this.

[bokettochild]

Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

-

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.” 

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there.. 

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different. 

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt. 

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling. 

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?” 

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?” 

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone. 

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky. 

  “Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.” 

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?” 

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.” 

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified. 

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.” 

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod. 

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died. 

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.” 

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up. 

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.  

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him? 

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.” 

Deku Tree bless, is he right? 

  “A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.” 

Sheik. 

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before. 

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?” 

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?” 

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”  

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.  

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.” 

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.” 

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh. 

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs. 

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens. 

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity. 

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being. 

He can only ignore it for so long though. 

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind. 

“Failure follows in your legacy.” 

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create? 

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own? 

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.” 

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.” 

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.” 

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of. 

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish? 

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t. 

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking. 

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end. 

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others. 

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again. 

Failures. 

Never intended to exist. 

Ought never have come to be. 

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses. 

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing. 

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls. 

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop? 

- 

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity. 

“Yes?”  

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.” 

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to. 

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.” 

“We can stop for a rest.”  

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”  

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.” 

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone. 

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt. 

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing. 

- 

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance. 

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head. 

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful. 

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures. 

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent. 

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse. 

- 

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred. 

It’s freeing. 

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again. 

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world. 

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent.  Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well. 

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts. 

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t. 

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon. 

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.” 

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything. 

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing. 

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure. 

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry. 

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering. 

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away. 

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed. 

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow. 

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them. 

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes. 

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?” 

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury. 

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest. 

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning. 

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword. 

[sunflowersbones]

The Hand That Feeds - III

Warnings: This fic will contain eventual NON-CON, eventual DUB-CON, abuse of power, violence, guns, gun violence, emotional manipulation, alluded to Mafia!Bucky. My warnings are not exhaustive, proceed at your own risk.

18+ only. This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary : Your best friend’s and yours entire lives have revolved around violence, death, greed and fear. You’ve always had each other and took comfort in the fact that none of this was your doing; you never had a choice. But what happens when time winds its roots around you, such that even when given the opportunity to leave, he neither leaves nor lets you leave. {mafia au}

~

The cold Brooklyn air cuts through you, causing your entire body to shiver. You go through the list in your hand once again, making sure you’ve got all the groceries required. You really wish to avoid another one-hour lecture about how incompetent you are, from your mother.

As you walk forward, a black car slows down next to you, and before you could worry about your life becoming a law and order episode, the back door opens, and you are greeted with a cheeky grin.

“Get in, doll; I’ll drop you home.”

A part of you wishes to resist and turn away, after all; he did leave without any warning and was gone for a whole week, while you worried yourself sick wondering what was going on.

But your heart melts at the sight of him, and you give in. You climb inside and close the door. You stare at him with a grumpy look on your face. He tilts his head to the side as he shines his teeth at you.

“Give me a hug; I haven’t seen you for a whole week.”

“And whose fault is that? You—

Before you could finish, he puts his arms around you as he tugs you close to him; his head leans into your shoulder as he breathes you in. Your entire body revels in his warmth. You receive a warm kiss on your cold cheek as he lets you go. One of his hands finds yours and holds on to it.

“You know, if I had a choice, I’d never.”

“You could have at least called; I was so worried; I was calling up Steve in the dead of night like a mad woman.”

He smirks at that as he continues, “I know, but dad wanted me to check on something—for the Outer Sea depot; he wanted it to be done without anyone really knowing anything.”

“So what? You’re doing all of your dad's work now.”

“Well yeah! I am his son, aren’t I?”

“Who else is supposed to?”

“He’s not the man he used to be; I don’t think he can handle it alone anymore.” He says as his voice strains slightly.

“But he’s not alone; he has a plethora of men working for him.”

“I know, doll, but he needs me.”

Your heart aches on hearing that; it’s a feeling you’ve become accustomed to— supporting your mom and her needs despite your own helplessness; after losing your father, that’s all you ever felt.

“Do you want this Bucky?”

“I don’t have a choice, now do I?” he sighs.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

You stare out through your window as you watch Bucky leave. He’d spent an entire hour prattling with your mother, his ability to be poised even when the world around him throws him into chaos never fails to amaze you.

You think about how pathetic you are; sure, you may have troubles and responsibilities weighting you down on your shoulders. But it was nowhere near as heavy as everything Bucky has to carry. Yet you’re the one who has a brooding face and paranoia, while all he seems to have is conviction and charm. In some way, you’re glad that you are just plain old you and not him; otherwise, you would have crumbled a long time ago.

“He’s still such a sweet boy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, well, that’s Bucky.”

“I’m so glad that he still has a liking for you.” You turn to look at her with a slight smile.

“Well, I’m his friend, aren’t I?” You move to store the groceries in the fridge.

“I still don’t know why you haven’t tried to move past that boundary.” She sighs.

“God mom! not this again,” you chime; annoyed.

You’re sick and tired of having this conversation, and it’s all she seems to be going on about for the past few months.

“We are friends, and that’s it; it’s all that’s important to us.”

 “Y/N… You need to understand that rich, powerful men don’t need friends; all they need are allies, and you’re not an ally; you're not of any use.”

You glare at her at that; you can’t decide if her voice contains mockery or concern.

“And he still adores you; this is your chance to get a good life.”

That tips you over the corner; your annoyance has now turned into anger.

“And did you get a good life?”

“what?”

“What did you get out of marrying dad?,What did you get from this life other than fear and pain?, Terrified every moment if he’s going to make it back alive.”

Your heart goes a little wild, and you tear up. “And now he’s dead, but his fears still linger; they're ours now.”

“I want to run away from everything, and you're asking me to willingly drown in all of this chaos all over again.”

“Y/N, you need to understand that the only reason we have been safe until now is because we have the Barnes’s still protecting us. I highly suspect it's because of your father's loyalty; leaving would only make life more dangerous.”

“You could make the boy fall in love with you, and then you’ll never have to fear anything.”

Your patience had run out a long time ago. You walked towards your room and slammed the door in her face, a childish act of rage, but you couldn't prevent it.

You don’t understand; you work so hard to appease her; you always have, yet she only sees you as one thing, a liability.

You nurse the drink in your hand as you look up at the sky; you’re seated in the garden while the others are still inside the house. Bucky had hosted a congratulatory party for closing a good deal.

You’d come here in hopes of ameliorating yourself; that argument with your mother was about a week ago, but it still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Staying home felt too suffocating, so when Bucky came to pick you up out of the blue, you weren’t hesitant to leave.

Most people seem to have dispersed, and one would have assumed it was time to close the gates. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the same, but you did, so you braced yourself for all the rowdiness that the boys would bring on, but nothing could have prepared you for the night that it turned out to be.

Bucky and Steve have always been close, their personalities always complementing each other. From childhood to now; it has evolved as such, and while others like Sam, Tony, Clint, Nat, and Rhodey all have their differences, there is still something similar about all of them. It had always made sense to you that they were friends; there was something in all their eyes—a determination, a desire? You're not sure.

While, they were your friends; you did not have that same spirit, that goal that they have. You often wondered if they recognised it; you always had it, even when you were little. While they always treated you as a friend, you knew that you were different, the odd ball in the group.

If there was anybody more unfit than you to belong to the group, it was Zemo. This wasn’t because he was alike to you; his eyes twinkled in the way yours never would. All of their eyes did; they were prepared, excited; yet there was a great difference between theirs and Zemo’s.

So now, after all these years and all these arguments, seeing him with them was, well weird… Zemo hadn’t liked them, and he’d made it abundantly clear. But you supposed the nuances of business made them unresponsive to each other's personal behavior.

To see Bucky and Zemo shoulder to shoulder next to each other brought out a disdain in you, and you never realised how right you were to harbour this feeling until now.

You walk upstairs without any destination in mind, your heart hammering in your chest. You can hear Bucky call out your name from behind, but you pay no heed to it. You want to get away from here. You're about to turn right when he catches hold of your arm and turns you around.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, bewilderment in his tone, and that frustrates you even more; you feel your eyes tear up.

“What’s wrong with me!? What’s wrong with you? How are you so nonchalant about this?”

“He was just messing around, Y/N; you know how Zemo can be.”

“Messing around!, messing around!; he held a gun to that poor waiter's head; he’s been spewing insults and threatening to shoot him. All of this for what? because he accidentally spilled a drink on him.”

“He’s drunk.”

“He’s like a deranged animal!” you shout.

“He’s drunk… he wasn’t going to shoot the guy; he’s just throwing a tantrum like he always does.”

“Don’t justify his behavior, Bucky.”

“I’m, not! I’m just saying, you getting agitated over his transgression is dumb.”

“I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I.”

“I don’t want this.”

 “Neither do I.”

“No, you don’t understand!, I don’t want this; I don’t want any of this life; I’m sick and tired of being scared all the time.”

“Why are you sca—

“Bucky, I never wanted any of this.” You cry out as you stare at him, your heart beating in your ears. This is a conversation you’ve never had with him.

“I want to leave.”

He stares at you, a deep frown forming on his face. “I don’t understand Y/N.”

“I want to leave, but I couldn’t; mom won’t listen and—

“Why haven’t you left? You have the choice, Bucky; why are you still here? You do realise that the longer you stay, the more you’ll get roped into all of this; you won't get a chance to escape,” you say as you move closer to him.

“Let’s just leave,” you whisper.

Bucky lets out a deep sigh as his frown disappears. His blue eyes now seem to hold sympathy.

“Look, Y/N, you're just paranoid because of Zemo’s antics, and I know life can be scary, but don’t you think that’s exactly why it's important to be the ones in control rather than the ones who run away and hide? Let's be honest, how long will you hide?”

His hand comes to hold your face as you calm yourself down. Your head is splitting in pain, and you don’t have any energy left in you to have this conversation.

“I’m tired,” you plea.

“Yeah, let's get you to bed, doll,” he says as he pulls you in closer.

~

[actual-changeling]

Since you have been the first 'Crowley deserves to have his boundaries' person I have seen in the tags on weeks. What do you think about the talk in the fandom on how Crowley should have accepted going to Heaven 'to do good and stop the Apocalypse' and that 'he also rejected Aziraphale'? It personally gives me the creeps because the narrative makes clear that Heaven is a big white nightmare but the fandom seems to be taking the 'Aziraphale might jot be perfect' thing hard and therefore Heaven is fixable now...

Glad to know I am not alone in my little boundaries corner! I'm always here for discussions about it.

And, oh boy, do I have thoughts on that, let's see if I can get them to be somewhat coherent.

I am going to start this off with a metaphor of sorts and hopefully people will be able to follow along. I'm an older sibling and have a little sister, and we grew up in an incredibly abusive and neglectful household.

When I graduated high school, I moved out for university, which was literally the best thing to ever happen to me - I got away, I was/am free! Now I have to deal with the consequences of all that shit though.

If my sister asked me to come back so I can help her fix our mother (entirely theoretical btw she'd never lol) would it be the right thing to say yes? Should I give up my personal freedom, my life, the healing process I am right in the middle of, to go back to a household that broke me? So I can be trapped with a person that will never change again?

The answer is, of course, no. I feel bad for my sister and I am praying she will be able o move out soon, but me going back would not solve a single fucking thing. See where I'm going with this yet?

Crowley left heaven and landed on earth, which was ultimately good for him, but he has a lot to process and heal from; he's right in the middle of his own recovery.

Heaven will not change, it cannot be changed. The entire institution is working as intended, and the intention is to be abusive, manipulative, and have as much power over everyone as possible. You cannot fix that, you need to get rid of it.

Aziraphale has good intentions, but he is also still trapped in that abusive household because he never moved out, he is the sibling that stayed behind, just mentally instead of physically.

Hot take, but many people in this fandom are incapable of understanding that "Aziraphale is acting based on good intentions and is still actively being abused/traumatized" and "Aziraphale did bad and unhealthy things and his relationship with Crowley was co-dependent and toxic" are co-existing. Both are true.

Both. are. true.

He did messed up shit out of a trauma response, but he is still responsible for his actions, and at the same time he deserves a chance to heal and move on from it. Please, at this point I am begging people to understand that this is not a black and white issue.

Crowley did not reject Aziraphale, if anything, Aziraphale rejected him.

Crowley said no to returning to an abusive environment for an impossible task. Crowley said no to sacrificing his mental and physical health for something that he knows will not happen. Crowley, for the first time in his life, set a clear and final boundary and put himself and his life over Aziraphale's wishes.

That is a good thing. It is necessary.

Season 3 will not be about Aziraphale fixing heaven or preventing the second coming (if anything it'll be accidental just like in season 1). It's going to be about him finding his way out of his abusive household and into a healthy environment in which they're both free and can heal.

Apart AND together.

It's not happily ever after, it's not perfect romance, it's not "soul-mates" or anything. It is messy, it is real, it is complicated, and I am so fucking tired of seeing it reduced to "love conquers all".

[moiravim]

Roughen up Part 1: "sister"

A Marauders Era Fanfic

Summary: Regulus Black is struggling to find out their gender identity. Sirius is having trouble reconnecting with his sibling, but wants to be there for Regulus. James Potter is realizing he may like Regulus more than he thought. Remus loves Sirius, but Sirius is too caught up in drama to notice. Barty and Evan love eachother more than anything, but get into an argument over Barty's behaviors towards Evan and their friends. Marlene and Dorcas become the power couple of the school, while Mary fights against her internalized homophobia to date her crush, Lily Evans. So much is happening, and with a war against the death eaters forming, misfortune is present.

Roughed up Masterlist

Regulus Black

I look into my dormitory's bathroom mirror, but I don't know who I'm looking at. Who am I? I'm a girl. The daughter of Orion Black. And that's all I'll ever be. But that isn't what I want.

I would do anything to be a boy. I wish I was born a boy. I wish I didn't look like this. I wish I was my brother. He's all I've ever wanted to be, and more. He's the best person I know.

I've been researching what it means to be transgender. But I could never transition the way other people do. My parents already call Sirius all sorts of slurs for being gay.

He was outed last summer by our cousin, Bellatrix. Personally, I don't think Bellatrix is so straight herself. She's just like this. Her and Sirius never got along.

I've never been as brave as Sirius. I could never come out. To anyone. Ever.

This is my first year at Hogwarts, and to be quite honest, I hate it. Sirius is mad at me for being sorted into Slytherin. I've made no friends. I've never felt so alone.

I don't think my brother will ever speak to me again. I definitely can't come out to him. He'd think I was faking it. He would hate me. He probably already hates me.

In my head, I've convinced myself I'm a boy. I know it isn't true, but it keeps me from crying every night. Sometimes I think I'd rather die than be a girl.

No matter how much I feel like a boy, when I look into this damn mirror I learn the truth. I will always be a girl.

I hear the door open and I look to see my roommate, Dorcas Meadows. She is nice from what I know. She's gorgeous too. Probably the prettiest girl in school.

"Hey. You going to the party in the common room tonight?" She asks while going over to her bed. She grabs her lipgloss from the bedside table and reapplies it.

"Is that an invitation?" I ask, still staring into the mirror. She rolls her eyes and responds, "everyone's invited".

I don't want to go. I don't want to be seen. Because everytime I'm seen, I'm perceived as a girl. I'd rather never be seen.

I turn to my side profile and look at my chest. That's what finalized my decision. "No", I respond quickly.

Sirius Black

My own sister. I thought she was like me. I thought she would've gotten into Gryffindor. A Slytherin, that's all she is. I hate her.

She's a horrible, evil little girl. She's just as bad as everyone else in our family. Or that's what I'm telling myself, at least.

It's humiliating that she's my sister.

I spent all of last year telling my friends how amazing she is. Just for her to prove me wrong the moment she got here.

I just want my old sister back.

The sister who was scared of the dark, and hated our parents just as much as I did. Not the death eater she's becoming. She's betrayed me.

My best friend, James, pats me on the back. "Hey, it's not so bad. It's not her fault she was sorted into slytherin! It was your parents who raised her, after all".

I look at James with a hopeless expression. I want to listen to him, but he's wrong. "My parents raised me too.and I'm not a fucking slytherin", I explain.

James has always understood me. Except for when it comes to family. He has a perfect family. I'd do anything for a family like him. Instead I'm stuck with abusive parents and the worst sister ever.

"You never know what she's going through", James continues to defend her. My sister hasn't gone through shit. I've spent my whole life making sure my parents don't hurt her the way they hurt me.

"You know nothing about my sister, James. Drop it. Now."

He does. Good.

James Potter

Here he goes again. Sirius never stops being so negative. He's acting like he hates his sister. I'm worried about him. The house that your sorted in shouldn't define who you are as a person.

I mean, yeah. Slytherins suck, and we prank them all the time. But that's his sister he's talking about!

If I had a sister, I'd be best friends with her. No matter what house she's in. I'd introduce her to all my friends, and I'd want to spend time with her.

Sirius always complains about his brother, but I don't get it. I wish I wasn't an only child. I sit at home alone while my parents work. Even Remus grew up surrounded by other kids.

When my parents grow old and die, I'll be left alone with no family. At least I'll have Remus, Sirius, and Peter. They'll always be with me.

I don't know much about Sirius' parents. I just know they're strict. I'd rather have strict parents than feel alone all the time. I'm probably just being dramatic. I have great parents.

But I always feel alone. I feel like I'll always be lonely. I'll probably die alone too. Is that wrong to think about?

If Sirius said he felt that way, I'd comfort him. But there's no one here to comfort me. No one cares how I feel.

But that's okay. I'm happy. I love all my friends. I love my parents. I love my teachers and my classmates.

I just wish that I felt more...supported? I've always been the supportive friend, haven't I? Maybe that's just because I need to be the supportive friend. Yeah. I'm doing okay.

All I know is that something is definitely wrong with Sirius' sister. And he's trying to ignore it. He's trying to convince himself he hates her. But he doesn't.

She needs him and he needs her. But he refuses to accept that he's in the wrong.

I've seen the way his sister looks at herself. Like she's the most disgusting thing she's ever seen. I just wish I could help. Both of them.

A/N: Hey!! Now I know I started things a bit dark, but light is coming soon! Part two will be out hopefully within a week from now (10/16/23). If you want to be reminded lmk and I'll tag you! <3 I have a lot planned for this as you can tell by the summary lmao.

@doingyourmom069

[doodlegirl1998]

You made me realize smth on my fic "Redestro the matchmaker" if Mirko is BK with boobs shouldn't she be less popular?

Then again in the smash...it is said Mt. Lady has fans who do have a fetish with her ...which serves to excuse the destruction she causes. Not gone lie, this is way realistic "hot lady can do whatever" so maybe the same logic could apply to Mirko.

Mirko is a hot woman. A hot basin woman so ...her personality and bkness can be "forgive"

But what about Endy and Aizawa? Are they handsome? Sure. Thanks for that Hori😒 but the pretty people privilige works for men too?

Endy's crimes are ignored in favour of war (which makes total sense. No one, admist many murderous villains, will send Endy who is a power house away) but Aizawa's crime is so entirely open and...who says otherwise is a meanie (looking at Monoma with pity. Yes he said bk suck but for sure he said similar to Aizawa)

I think those heroes should be highly unpopular.

Hi @mikeellee 👋,

Miruko is an interesting case.

Among other heroes - yes she should be less popular. Her behavior would not endear her to her peers (she thinks lesser of teamwork and openly expresses this imagine what she says about 'hero teams' to their faces.) There's also the way she's constantly itching to beat someone up which would also put people off her.

However, among fans she's a hot basin woman who is strong and not afraid to show that. She would be seen as a "feminist Icon" and horny teenage boys would love her (as a literal and fierce bunny girl I can see her being the subject of many a horny fanfic in the MHA universe.)

Then there's the other main two you mentioned: yes pretty privilege is a thing and Endeav and Aiz are pretty that earns them some points.

The reasoning for not putting away Endeav for child abuse does sadly make sense as they are in a time of war and need all heavy hitters on deck. (This would have been solved if Dabi had been allowed to kill him but you know... Hori can't have that. 😒) Endeav should also be a lot less popular because of this and in general he's a lot like Bakugou in his anti social demeanor and wish to be the Best. He's also an ass to his fans as his interaction with mini Inasa showed which earns him no points.

Aizawa as a hero is shown to be decent and his quirk is obviously invaluable to the heroes.

But he should be hated by his ex-pupils and their families for ruining thier futures for petty reasons. Realistically, he (and Nedzu) also should be drowning in so much legal paperwork because of his fucked up teaching and 'fake' expulsions that he and Nedzu both become broke.

Can you imagine the outcry if a prestigious university in real life did this and hired someone like Aizawa? The outcry would be MASSIVE and that university would be defunct in no time.

Therefore, realism has no place in MHA when it comes to Hori's faves.

[kaylinlmao]

Hey! too shy to use my account but could i have platonic yandere tbp boys with mother figure reader (like the wanda one you did but without powers) if not that’s ok <3 have a great day/night and drink lots of water!

I'm gonna be mixing two requests together because they are very similar.

Request for TBP Boys and Gwen x Adoptive Parent Reader

They present themselves as "pure, sweet, innocent angels," but when Reader isn’t looking, they show their true colors

Reader genuinely has no idea

Preferably yandere TBP Boys

Preferably yandere Gwen

Preferably headcanons

I gotcha! I will not be including Griffin because I hc he already has a great mom.

You worked as a nurse at the hospital and one day, 5 boys were brought in. They were seriously injured, might I add. You were the best nurse at the hospital so you were chosen to take care of the boys.

You didn't mind at all. You thought they were super sweet. They all had wonderful manners, which you very much appreciated seeing as you don't often get thank you's and please's often, being a nurse.

They were all so kind. The morning after they were brought in, there was a shooting downtown so they needed more rooms to put the victims of the shooting in. So your manager told you to move all 5 boys into one room as to empty more space.

Shortly after the shooting, a girl walked in. Maybe 11, 12 years old. She said her name was Gwen and she was Finney's sister. As you led her back to where the boys were, she was very jumpy. You had an abusive childhood so you knew what all the signs were pointing to. You felt bad for the poor girl.

You got off of your shift the next morning. (You worked the night shift) After you got off work, you went home and changed but went back to visit the boys and Gwen. You sat down in a chair by the door and you all talked. For hours. The conversation went to their home lives.

Finney and Gwen told you all about their abusive father. Vance said his mother mistreated him and told him constantly that he would never be enough and that he was just like his dad. Billy's parents left after he got kidnapped. Robin's mom and uncle moved back to Mexico, thinking Robin was dead. And Bruce's mom had come to visit saying that she didn't want him anymore seeing as his swinging arm was damaged and might never be the same.

You felt bad for the poor children. You lived alone in a large house. You made a good 80,000-90,000 dollars a year from working as a nurse. You could raise 6 kids. You dealt with kids everyday. So, you walked out telling them you'd be right back.

You went out into the hall and called your social services friend, Sophie. Sophie said that she could get it all ready. And so, a week later, you were legally the mother of 6 kids.

Little did you know, they had planned all of this. They knew you were all meant to be a family the moment they layed eyes on you. And just because they snuck out of the hospital in the middle of the night to take care of their parents didn't mean they were bad people. Billy killed his parents and so did Robin. Finney and Gwen didn't have to do anything. Their dad sealed his fate all on his own. Vance and Bruce blackmailed their mothers into signing the adoption papers.

They got what they wished for. You were apart of their little family now. Forever.

I hope you like it! Love y'all! :) -Kaylin

[safetycar-restart]

https://twitter.com/leclercphotos/status/1626193597161783302?s=21

This photo is giving me secretary/PA vibes, I swear we had an au ages ago of Charles being your personal assistant?? But anyway I love thinking of shy little Charlie hanging on your every word, doing his best at his job while trying to hide his massive massive crush on you. Ducking his head and blushing whenever you complement him on what a good job he’s doing. Following you around everywhere like a diligent little pup. Calling you miss!! Feeling so guilty for thinking of you at night as he slips his hands in his boxers and his fingers in his mouth, wishing it was you in control instead of him touching himself.

Little does he know you feel the same, worrying that you’d be abusing your power over him as his boss but wanting nothing more than to bend him over your desk and treat him how he deserves. Maybe one day he’s brought you your coffee but accidentally spills a little on you and gets so so flustered, trying to clean it up and apologising profusely. Your rational mind goes out the window at having him that close to you and wanting to comfort him as he starts to spiral over such a small thing. You stand up and reach out to stroke his hair and tilt his face so he can properly look at you, shushing him and telling him it’s ok, it was just a little accident. You notice how he unconsciously leans into your touch, big wet eyes looking at you for help.

You’re not sure entirely how it happens, but as you go to stoke his face again, your thumb swipes across his lips, causing him to let out a little whine. Next thing you know you’ve slipped your thumb into his mouth, he’s panting around it like crazy, not sure if he’s crossed the line until you continue to whisper how it’s all alright, you’ve got him. You slip your thumb out, prompting the neediest little whine from Charles, before quickly replacing it with two fingers resting on his tongue. His eyes are almost glazed over at this point, his body trembling completely under your touch as he lets himself suck on them. You let him stay there a little while, then slowly press down on his tongue, at the same time bringing your other hand to his shoulder, pushing him down gently to his knees while keeping your fingers in his mouth. He’s in heaven. Absolute heaven, with no idea how he got there, no more thoughts. You coo down at him, ‘You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you sweetheart?’, getting the most enthusiastic nod in return while he diligently keeps your fingers in his mouth. You’ll deal with the consequences later, but right now all you can focus on is the sweet boy kneeling at your feet.

(Pheewwwww sorry that was so long!!!)

Oh my god yes!!! We did have this AU a while ago and I would love to bring it back!!!!

Firstly, he would work so hard!! He’s genuinely the best assistant you’ve ever had, truly he’s amazing. And he’s so good because he loves his job so much? He absolutely loves being your assistant, loves managing your schedule and answering emails and booking appointments and making you coffee.

(I also think he feels kinda proud that he’s the one people have to go through to reach you? He will NEVER allow someone into your office without checking, and he’s the only one who can just walk in unannounced, which just makes him feel so nice?)

And of course you treat him so well. You always make sure you don’t overwork him, even though honestly he still does more work than he needs to. You always thank him for everything, smiling at him whenever he pops his head into your office, inviting him to have lunch in your office with him, insisting he buy himself some coffee with your card whenever he gets some for you.

He loves all those things so much, and he’ll get genuinely upset if he can’t have those? Like if you have a lunch meeting he’ll be so sad, because it means he won’t get invited to have lunch with you, means he won’t get to sit on the couch in your office with you and discuss the office drama. Or if you’re having a meeting in your office and he has to bring coffee for everyone, he’ll be so sad because it means you won’t thank him as nicely, won’t double check that he also got himself coffee.

He just enjoys being with you so much!!! He knows it’s a little sad for an assistant to be hanging on their boss’s every word, to be begging for attention and always staying late just to have a conversation walking to the elevator. But he can’t help it!! He likes you so much.

And yeah, he wants to submit to you so badly. Because he knows, is 100% certain that you would treat him so well. One time you had a meeting in your office and when Charles dropped off coffee, he got yelled at by the person you were meeting because he put too much milk in their coffee, he was nearly in tears, but you kicked the guy out instantly, told him that you wouldn’t be doing business with someone who treated your assistant like that and then let Charles do the rest of his work in your office for the day.

He’s always thinking about that time, how you always checked in on him, how you stood up for him, how you made him feel so safe.

Naturally this means that when he does mess up, even in the smallest way, the poor thing can’t stand it.

So when he spills a little coffee on you, he’s so upset with himself. Maybe he even made the coffee himself? He used the coffee machine at the office but with his own capsules because he’s learnt which coffee pods you like best. He makes your coffee in a very particular way and if he messes any step up he’ll start the whole thing again.

So he’s just so upset when he spills on you, realising he’s now ruined your clothes and your coffee. He’s supposed to be a good assistant!! And here he is spilling hot coffee on you.

He tries to grab a tissue to clean it up, but he only succeeds in spreading the coffee all over your shirt and by this point he’s practically in tears. He nearly runs out the room but you grab his hand before he can, using your free hand to place a hand on his jaw.

He relaxes instantly under your touch, leaning into your hand and looking to you for help. You reassure him of course, telling him it was just a small mistake and that you’ll just send the shirt to the dry cleaners, no problem.

He leans further into your hand, body practically sagging in relief to hear that. He hasn’t been bad!! He’s still good!! You aren’t angry!!!

You don’t mean to start stroking his jaw with your thumb, but you do. The whine he lets out when your thumb moves over his lips is sinful. Just that one of thing has him nearly shaking, so worked up.

You press your thumb lightly against his lips again, and instantly he’s opening his mouth and sucking on it. He closes his eyes, sucking lightly and you’ve never seen him this relaxed before.

He cries out when you remove your thumb, moving his head forward to try and follow it. He’s not ready to stop!!

He relaxes again when you instead hold two fingers to his mouth. He starts to suck on them immediately, feeling so happy again. When you lightly press down on his shoulder with your free hand, he doesn’t even think about it, just gets right on his knees.

He’s in absolute heaven, on his knees for you, suckling on you fingers. This is everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

You’re in shock. You’ve wanted this for so long, and even when you let yourself imagine having him like this, you never thought he’d be this needy and open about it. He’s panting behind your fingers, still sucking as best he can and staring up at you with wide eyes.

You know you should stop this now, tell Charles to get up and find another assistant. But you can’t. You’ve wanted this for so long and now he’s at your feet and you can’t possibly turn him away.

He ends up shuffling between your thighs, pulling away from your fingers and nuzzling between your thighs, getting closer and closer to your crotch, mouth practically watering because he wants it so bad.

You let him give you head under your desk, and it’s like all of Charles’s dreams have come true. He loves every second of it, and he knows he’ll never get enough of this. Now that he’s tasted you, he’ll always want more. You were going to give him a handjob afterwards, but maybe he came in his pants? Completely ruined his expensive suit.

Not to worry, you take a half day after that and take him home with you.

[yuikomorii]

You've probably been asked this before (and if so I'm sorry!) but what was in your opinion the best route and worst route throughout the entire game series?

// I think I have answered this before but no worries, I’ll try to write down again! ^^

The route I found the closest to perfection was Ayato’s DF one. It had a lot of romance because his interactions with Yui were so wholesome (I liked how they were both romantic and playful), the cgs were stunning, there was a lot of character development, and it was very memorable! Cordelia was undoubtedly the most abusive mother, but the fact that we got to learn about her feelings made the route even better because I, at least, sympathized with her there. Furthermore, DF Ayato set my expectations too high. He's not always the brightest bulb in the box, but when he's written to be smart, he's a KING. When he eavesdropped Cordelia’s conversation with Yui about her doing all those bad things to get Karl’s attention, Ayato connected the dots so quickly and realized that Karlheinz truly is the root of all evil; not just when it comes to his mom or Laito and Kanato, but to EVERYONE who had to suffer as a result of his plan. In Ecstasy 7-8, it was revealed that Ayato was aware that Karlheinz only cared about his plan, and I believe that every Diaboy needs to face this reality and stop trying to defend or justify Karl's actions because Ayato is 100% correct here, his father couldn't care less about his victims.

It's ironic, given that he's my best boy, that the worst route in DL was Ayato's LE one. The issue wasn't Ayato, because he got development and great interactions with Yui here as well, but the way his brothers acted made it very unappealing. I get that he blew up the house the first time, all of his brothers did it in their own routes, but the one who made the big mistake wasn't Ayato, but his brothers. They were the ones who ganged up against him, not allowing him to finish his sentence and even interrupting him, so it's no surprise he reacted that way because 1) 5 people throwing shade at you isn't a pleasant scenario, especially if you want to express yourself and visibly have powers you can’t control and 2) the conversation was also about Richter and Ayato had every right not to trust him because he had previously wronged him and Yui (which he also mentioned). He wouldn't have blown up the house a second if they hadn't done this and even Yui later said she wished they had listened to Ayato's side of the story too. The Good Ending aggravates matters because it would have been ten times better if Ayato had learned how to use his powers and healed his brothers. Maybe they would have apologized for not understanding his struggles and promised to pay more attention to his feelings, but noooo, time had to be rewinded. The saddest part is that even if Ayato learned to control himself better, the moment he acts impulsively again, his brothers will undoubtedly gang up together against him again, and the scenario will be recreated. What bothers me the most is that THEY did not learn from their mistakes nor to take their brother’s feelings into consideration.

[depressedbagpipe]

about liam payne

let me preface this by saying i never thought i’d be writing a “statement” at the ripe age of 23. as a disclaimer, i do not condone his abusive actions and find them incredibly disgusting and immoral, but i’d also be lying if i said i don’t have conflicting emotions right now. this is me trying to explore them. 

i don’t think i’ve ever stated this before, but one direction made me the person i am today. those five lads were one of my main pillars during my adolescent life. they became my main motivation to pay attention during my english classes at school, and thanks to that i’m now building my career out of my second language. i got into fanfiction, discovering a safe space for me to destress and interact with other fans –not knowing i’d be 21 one day and writing crappy ben barnes stories that people would seemingly love, yet again motivating me to make my life-long dream of becoming an author another reality–. i logged into twitter for the first time and essentially made it my whole personality, finding a whole new world of entertainment where i could bond with anybody around the globe. but, most importantly, i met my former best friend, whom i have had the most amazing adventures with as we both grew up with the boys. 

one direction was my haven i came back to every day. i had to endure all types of comments from society, calling me crazy, obsessed, and childish. everybody made fun of directioners for being fangirls, and made fun of the guys too, as if they weren’t real musicians. i had to hide my directioner badge more than once because i knew i wouldn’t be taken seriously if i showed my true colors. experiencing those levels of misogyny at such young age would’ve been devastating had i not had them singing about how much they loved us. sure, the relationship was entirely parasocial and borderline problematic at times (remember that time some girls hacked the airport security just to see the guys through their screens?), yet, for a twelve-year-old who had no power in her own life, that was the safest net she could’ve gotten. 

their hiatus hit hard, because we weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. how do you move on from a band that has become one of your safety pins, that held you when nobody else did? deep down, i hoped they’d come back. we never got any closure, after all. one direction first cracked the day zayn left, but now, it has shattered completely. 

learning about liam’s past was tough. how could someone you admired for so long do such terrible things? i wanted to find solace in the fact that he was no longer the person he shared the stage with harry, louis, niall and zayn. i really wanted to separate the art from the artist, but i couldn’t. i even resented being a fan and supporting such a person in the past, but now, he’s officially gone. his victims won’t get any closure, and the culprits of leading such a young person towards his own hell won’t get justice either. it just isn’t fair.

grief is a funny thing, though. we’re all mourning someone he wasn’t for almost a decade. we’re grieving our childhoods and adolescence. we weep, because what once was, won’t be anymore. we lament the man he became, and all the pain he caused. yet all i can think about now is that 11-year-old who listened to ‘what makes you beautiful’ for the first time. that little girl who fought in the trenches to be heard and respected, and was instead ridiculed and shamed. she’s the one grieving. and i don’t know what to do anymore to protect her, and i wish i could.