#even when they were alive and treated like trophys

[diminuel]

Whitebeard might naturally be smothering and over protective of children (totally trusts adult Crocodile to keep himself and his family taken care of. But the grandbabies are NOT allowed to climb ANYTHING under WB’s watch) but I can totally see him, in your AU space, after Marineford, being REALLY good at reconciliation. His pebble surviving to adulthood and holding his own consistently remedies like 75% of WB’s concerns. (Especially if, perhaps, Crocodile is now older than Rocks was when they died.)

Which means the last 25% is “do you know how loved you are? That it kills me I can’t give you the sun and the moon and the stars? That Rocks loved you and I was so so scared you wouldn’t know these things or I would fail to protect you?”

And, yknow, nothing is going to change the fact Croc is just a more distant and introverted and less affectionate person than WB. But hearing how sorry his father is and how proud he has *always* been. That Croc was never meant to be left behind and treated like another one of WB’s pretty little trophies. It helps mend a LOT. Doesn’t fix all the hurt — but enough theyre happy to be family again (even if Croc would really prefer that ALL of his family were more private.)

And oooooh post Marineford you KNOW this is going to give Dragon a new complex. Seeing his father in law do everything he can to save and protect Dragon’s children, and tell his own husband how *proud* he is and to see all that unabashed familial affection and pride.

Aaah! Whitebeard's fear that Crocodile doesn't know that he was loved hits me right in the feels ;w;

And I think that if Whitebeard can verbalize these things, then Crocodile can let go of the resentment. He was able to let go in canon and let his wounds heal, so I think if Whitebeard makes it off this battlefield alive, then Crocodile will be glad to have his father again.

Oh, and poor Dragon...! Would he feel guilty that he couldn't be there (or was he there?) or is he predominantly having to work through the fact that Garp can't do this?

[crustyfloor]

I don't remember if that information is actually canon or not because some are saying it's in an old deleted livestream and some are saying it's not true and I have the memory of a goldfish (help. but I'll go looking around to see).

Ivan hugging the wagyein feels so deep to me. Ivan doesn't think of himself kindly in canon, almost to a self-deprecating extent. When he's shown being close to such a terrifying creature, touching it so casually. Like he understands-- as if he's comforted by it, accepting it. To me, It's like a metaphorical and symbolic way of him embracing his own inner 'monster'.

(Also like, the way you can compare them too? red eyes/pupils, snaggletooth >< teeth, solitary and protective, eerie?....Ivan....)

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Townspeople Harem x Lucky Reader

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I have no clue what I was on when I wrote this 💀. This is also inspired by a Reddit post I saw long time ago.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who are absolutely enamored by you and everything that you do. They treat you as if you are some kind of entity waiting to be put on a golden pedestal and paraded around town. You are essentially the town’s golden boy/girl/person, a mascot if you can even call it that. In their eyes everything that you do is inspiring and encouraged. It also doesn’t help that you were born with this amazing power that causes you to become extremely lucky. No matter the deed, every action was thrust into the spotlight as if it were a gracious gesture for the community's well-being. Take, for instance, if you ever fatally shot someone the townsfolk would erupt in applause, discovering the individual to be a notorious mass murderer and your action saved the town.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who can’t help but gush over every miniscule achievement that you got. You got a perfect attendance award? They wouldn’t expect anything less from you. Did you just get a participation trophy? Well they're cheering for you as if you just won the world cup. To say their actions are embarrassing is definitely an understatement. Everytime they cheer for you, you can’t help but die a little bit on the inside.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who absolutely cannot fathom the idea of you moving out of their town. They would much rather skin themselves alive and commit arson than to allow you to leave them. Everywhere you go, there will always be some form of eyes on you. There will always be some type of survance of you at any time of the day. Depending on the person, the townspeople's love for you can either be platonic or romantic. Basically half of the town wants to fuck your and the other half sees you as their beloved child or grandchild.

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople who may or may not be human. Like sure they might have the occasional human sacrifices but what town doesn’t!?!? This is totally normal behavior that people exhibit. What’s that? Did you just see a tentacle coming out from that woman over there? Nahhh. You must be imagining that! What a cute and overactive imagination you have there. In all seriousness, it would literally die for you. You're just a cutie patootie to them. Your small teeth are so cute compared to their razor sharp fangs. You know, you could really use that small mouth of yours and suck on their–

🌟 Yandere! Townspeople have a monthly ritual where they gather around to brag about all of the items that they stole from you. Never in your life will you see someone so happy to own a pair of used underwear that didn’t belong to them or some used pair of socks. If you looked up a textbook definition of “down bad” then a picture of the Yandere! Townspeople would be the first images to pop up. In your presence these people act as if they had never touched grass or seen the sun before. They all seem to have some type of mutual agreement that in your presence, they would try to act somewhat normal in order to not scare/scar you too much.

—

From a young age, your luck was apparent. In school, while others struggled with exams, you breezed through them effortlessly, always managing to stumble upon the exact answers needed to excel. Teachers marveled at your natural knack for stumbling upon solutions, even in the most challenging of situations. As you grew older, the extraordinary luck only seemed to amplify. Job interviews turned into job offers within minutes, as if the universe conspired to ensure your success in every endeavor. Colleagues joked that working with you was like having a lucky charm around, as projects that seemed doomed to fail miraculously turned into resounding triumphs whenever you were involved. It might seem great and all BUT DAMN WAS THIS LIFE SO FUCKING BORING!!!! Which is why you decided to spice up your day a little and rob a bank.

“Oh hello [Reader]! Is this going to be the usual procedure?” The bank teller asks you with a smile on their face as you hold a gun to their face. “You know… the weather is perfectly nice today. It would be a perfect day for a date don’t you think–”

Suddenly a thunderous crash was heard, the police burst through the bank doors, their badges glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Guns drawn and voices booming commands, they swept into the lobby, faces masked with determination. Until the police chief sees you and lets out a tired sigh, “Guns down everyone, it’s just [Reader].” A faint sound of disappointed groans can be heard from the crowd of bank patrons from the back. “Why are the police here so soon, I didn’t get enough time to admire their pretty face.” another voice could be heard, “For real, their never this fast in an actual emergency. I mean they only just shot and killed one person, it's really nothing to worry about like who cares–”

—

“You are free to go [Reader], again.” the police officer states as she releases you from your handcuffs. “Turns out the man that you shot ended up being a drug dealer. You really have a special talent for catching criminals don’t you. She states as she gazes at you with loving eyes. “You know I’m free after this shift, you think we can–”

Before she can finish her sentence you walk away with a dejected look on your face. You couldn’t believe how boring a day this turned out to be. Seriously, you wished that something exciting would happen in this town for once you think to yourself. Failing to notice a scene behind you. One that consisted of a bunch of monsters eating the souls of the innocent while on their knees for a statue that seemed to look like you. They all seem to be gripping onto something though– HEY, WAIT A MINUTE ARE THEY HOLDING YOUR UNDERWEAR!?!!?

[the-offside-rule]

Carlos Sainz Jr (Scuderia Ferrari) - Get A Grip

Requested: via wattpad

Prompt: Carlos was a huge red flag during their relationship and then when Y/n glows up after they breakup, he tries to get back with her but she was having none of it because she was seeing another driver on the grid (you can choose)

Warnings: Carlos getting eaten alive (not actually just...metaphorically) AND THID IS A GIVEN BUT THIS IS COMPLETELY FICTIONAL

Monaco 2022. Y/n sat with her boyfriend in a nightclub as his shiny P2 trophy stood proudly on the table, surrounded by bottles and glasses. Y/n smiled uncomfortably as her boyfriend laid his arm around her shoulders and charted happily with his engineers. Yn played with the rings on her fingers, catching the attention of her boyfriend. Well that wasn't true. The engineer he was talking to noticed it and told Carlos. That made it worst. "You okay?" Carlos asked. Y/n nodded. "Is this one of those tricks where you say you are but you aren't?" She nodded again. "Well, whats wrong then?" He asked harshly. "I don't want to be here." She told him. Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out the card to their room. "I'll be up in an hour. Order yourself food or something." She held her card in her hand, staring at it blankly. "Carlos, I want you to come with me."

"I don't want to leave yet." Carlos replied. "But I came here, not wanting to go out." Y/n said. "I got a podium. Of course I'm going to go out." Carlos scoffed. "You got podiums last season and we stayed in and had dinner. Why can't we do that?" She asked desperately. "Because we're in Monaco-" She cut him off"You got a podium in Monaco last year too!"

"Y/n, get a grip." Y/n felt her heart shattering. "What?" She asked. "Well, Im your boyfriend. I don't know how I am meant to help you with this." Carlos took another swig of his glass and set it down. "You could try and reassure me maybe. Just a thought!" She stood up and left, hearing Carlos call after her, but stopping after a single try.

"I don't know what to do Lily." Y/n sobbed in the bathroom. "I would dump him." Lily said, moving a piece of Y/n's behind her hair. "I- I can't see myself without him." Y/n sniffled. "Look, I couldn't see myself without Alex, sweetie, but if he spoke to me that way I'd find a way to be without him." It seemed so easy for Lily. Y/n physically couldn't think of a life where Carlos wasn't around. "I can't." Lily gave her fellow wag a sympathetic smile and hugged her. "Come on. Let's go. We don't want people seeing you like this."

Y/n and Lily walked through the dancing crowd, making their way to the VIP area where all the drivers stayed. As the security opened the red rope for the ladies to walk through,their eyes set on "What we're you doing with that girl?" Y/n asked, looking at Carlos with eyes full of rage. "She wanted a photo and we got a photo." Carlos said. "You kissed her on the cheek." Carlos groaned. "Wow, a kiss on the cheek. This is what I mean, you always-" She didn't like after that. It was seeing Carlos finally doing what everyone was telling her he does. "I'm done." She mumbled. "What?" Carlos asked. "I- I'm done." Carlos' face dropped. "Y/n-" She turned and walked away, leaving that life behind her. She would never let another man treat her the way he did again.

After the break up was announced, a lot of news came out about Carlos. A lot from girls he supposedly slept with at races Y/n didn't attend. How they all allegedly were invited to races Y/n wouldn't be at, and even some that Y/n was at. Regardless of if she was there or not, he cheated. God knows what would have happened if Y/n hadn't left the bathroom I Monaco. Maybe he would have gone further with that "fan". All she could do right now, was simply move on and build a life without him. And that was exactly what she did.

The 2023 summer break had finished and Carlos had partied more or less every weekend, racking up a body count but not wanting any of the girls to stay. He miled for photos and signed things for fans as he entered the paddock. As he walked on, past the flash mob and fans, another driver caught his attention. He heard the cameras flashing and turned to see Max walking in with a girl. It wasnt the girlfriend he had back at testing, she was different and he could tell by the colour of the hair. He pulled a face but continued walking to the Ferrari hospitality. He watched through the tinted windows to get a closer look. "Who are we stalking?" Charles asked, standing beside his teammate. "Max has a new girlfriend." Carlos muttered. "You're sure it's not the same as testing?" Charles asked. "No, the hair is different. So is the style." Carlos replied. "Hair dye, hired a stylist." Charles chuckled. "No, believe me. She's different! Look!" Carlos and Charles' gaze fell onto the girl holding hands with Max as the both laughed with eachother. Charles looked over to Carlos, waiting to see the moment realisation would settle in. "Is that-" He paused. Y/n.

"Well...she's a different girl." She was. Not only was she not the girl Max brought to testing, but she was barely even the girl Carlos had once dated. She changed immensely. She went back to her natural hair colour, instead of having it dyed and she changed her style. Her whole aura was different. "She is. Do you think Max has something to do with it?" He asked. "Or maybe your breakup." Carlos turned to Charles. "I'll go." Charles mumbled.

As the weeks passed, Carlos got sick of seeing Max winning, because it meant he'd see Y/n kissing him before he went to the podium each and every time, each time met with Carlos rolling his eyes.

In Qatar, Carlos didn't start and so he sat watching the race instead. As he walked through the paddock club, he spotted Y/n sipping a drink at a table with Jos. He didn't know what was happening, but he found himself walking over towards the table and before he could stop himself, he found himself shaking hands with Jos and having small talk as Y/n simply looked at him, Carlos looking back. "I need to go to the garage now, Carlos but it was nice catching up." Jos smiled as he turned to Y/n. "I'll see you there." Jos said to Y/n as she nodded. Jos left, leaving Carlos and Y/n to fill awkward silence. As Carlos stood there, watching the formation lap, he decided to speak.

"You know drivers move quickly." Carlos said to her. He face palmed himself in his mind. Why would he say that?! "Like how quickly you moved on from me?" Carlos clenched his jaw. Even when they weren't together, she drove him crazy. "You'd think you would have learned from the first driver." Y/n nodded. "The driver that has more bodies to his name than podiums? Yes. Of course." She rolled her eyes and went to walk away, but Carlos took hold of her hand. "Stop being like this. You were nothing like this with me, ever." Carlos said sternly. Y/b pulled her hand from his grip. "That was before you cheated. I've changed and you only think you have." He grabbed her again. This time when she looked back to him, the white in his eyes had turned as tears threatened to fall. "Carlos? Whats-"

"I- I can't find your face in these girls I try to be with. I need you. I miss you." Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat as she was faced with Carlos, crying. It was the first time she'd ever seen him crying but she knew exactly what she had to do. "Carlos-" Y/n began, regrettfully caressing his face, a soft smile on her lips. A spark of hope lit up in Carlos' heart. "Get a grip." She whispered, before turning and walking back to the Red Bull garage to watch her boyfriend go onto win his third World championship.

And Carlos watched in envy as Y/n kissed Maxs helmet, just as she once did to his. Get a grip. It was his yurn turn get a grip.

[aquamarixx]

second rate stand-in

in which reo is reminded how shitty it feels to be just a substitute.

⁺₊ ❆ ANGSTMAS 2024 ENTRY ❆ ₊⁺ pairing mikage reo x reader word count 878 words tags post manga timeskip, university AU, angst, hurt navigation

Reo Mikage has it all.

An heir to a vast conglomerate and a rising football player, Reo lives a life that most people can only dream of. Money, power, prestige—it’s all within his grasp.

Yet, none of it matters. Not when he doesn’t have you.

You’re just an ordinary university student. Another face he shares four years of his life with. Someone he occasionally works on projects with, exchanges polite nods with in class, and maybe, at best, maintains a casual rapport.

But unlike everyone else, you don’t treat him like a prince. You walk into his life as an academic rival—unimpressed, unphased. Not a fangirl, not lovesick. Just you, someone determined to beat him.

It would’ve been easier to dismiss you if you were like everyone else, fawning over him for his last name or his talent. But you’re not. You see through the sheen of his perfect life and meet him eye-to-eye.

To you, Reo Mikage isn’t a golden boy. He’s competition.

How the fuck is someone so good at sports, life, and everything despite having a jam-packed schedule? you think.

You’re already struggling with your academics, wanting to graduate top of your class with the best damn grades. Meanwhile, Reo casually breezes through his life as if it’s a walk in the park.

This only makes you want to challenge him, question how someone with his packed schedule still aces exams and projects. It infuriates you.

And him? He finds it exhilarating.

For the first time in years, Reo feels alive. You remind him of the fire he had in Blue Lock—the drive, the hunger to prove himself. And oh boy, he wants to prove himself to you that he’s the real deal.

He faces your competitive nature head-on, enjoying every time he sees your pretty face contorted in frustration when he sassily shows off his better grades. No matter what half-hearted insults you throw his way, it only fuels the fire in him.

He loves your attention and loves how you unknowingly think of him, even though not in the way everyone else does.

To you, he isn’t a billionaire heir or a football prodigy. He’s just someone to outdo. A competition. A rival.

And he falls for you because of it.

Over time, the rivalry softens into friendship. The snarky remarks give way to late-night study sessions, inside jokes, and “friendly” coffee dates. You let your guard down, showing him the side of you that’s self-deprecating, witty, and warm. And Reo? He’s hooked.

But you aren’t his to love. You have a boyfriend—someone who holds your heart. So, he swallows his feelings and settles for the sidelines, the friend who’s always there.

Nagi mocks him whenever he talks about you. “You’re not the type to wait, Reo. Go after what you want.”

It’s not like him to be passive. He learned the hard way how it is to be in a dog-eat-dog world back in Blue Lock. That anything and everything can be his for the taking, if he wants to. And he can.

But you aren’t a trophy or a goal. You’re you. And he can’t risk losing you altogether.

Even when you break up, he holds back. He tells himself it isn’t the right time, that you need space. Instead, he becomes your rock—picking up the pieces your ex leaves behind. Coffee runs, shared meals, walks home. Every small gesture is his way of saying what he can’t.

Reo tries to fill the void, doing everything your ex never did. But no matter how much he gives, he can’t shake the feeling that he’s a stand-in. A poor substitute for someone you loved deeply.

Then comes Christmas.

Reo spends weeks searching for the perfect gift. A simple silver charm bracelet, each charm representing significant memories you’ve shared with him that he holds dear. It’s more than a present; it’s a confession. He just needs to see you. So he texts you that night, his heart pounding.

Are you free tonight? Can I see you?

Before your reply comes, his phone buzzes with an Instagram notification. It’s your story.

There you are, smiling next to your ex.

The caption reads “Catching up,” but it doesn’t matter. The sight crushes him. His grip on his phone tightens as he stares at the screen. A dozen emotions surge through him—jealousy, doubt, hopelessness.

What’s the point? How can he compete with someone who already has a place in your heart?

He sets his phone down, unable to look at it any longer. The charm bracelet sits on his coffee table, glinting under the glow of the Christmas tree lights.

“I’ll never be him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

Reo lets himself imagine it. A world where he’s enough. Where he doesn’t have to live in someone else’s shadow. Where your smile is for him and him alone.

But that isn’t his reality.

Maybe next time. Maybe next time, I’ll have the courage to tell you. But not tonight.

Tonight, all he can do is carry the weight of his feelings, as silent and heavy as snowfall. Alone.

“Merry Christmas,” he types, sending it to you. The greeting leaves a bitter taste in his mouth because he's sure it doesn’t feel like one at all.

amari's notes: this was actually the firs piece i wrote for angstmas. i just accidentally saw a reo post here on tumblr and thought how fun it would be to break his heart (jk im kidding) im beginning to love his character, along with chigiri tbh. anyway, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask or even a request! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

taglist: @inu1gf 100520s

[nat-1-whump]

❄️ Magical cold/comfort

Fantasy hurt/comfort ideas no. 6

Deep in the woods, Whumpee gets injured and passes out. Caretaker carries them as they stumble through the snow, desperately looking for anyone who can help. Eventually they find a lone cabin with someone who is very surprised to have visitors. Whumpee wakes up wrapped in a blanket in front of a warm fire, their injuries treated with some sweet-smelling home remedies. Their head rests in Caretaker's lap as Caretaker gently strokes their hair. Whumpee dozes off again, listening to Caretaker explain their situation to the odd stranger who has taken them in.

Whumpee accidentally covers themself in frost while trying to practice some cold-related spell. Caretaker steps outside to find Whumpee on the ground, practically frozen solid. Caretaker is quick to bring them inside and seat them near the fire, bundle them up in layers of blankets, and make them something warm to eat. When Whumpee takes the meal with shivering hands, Caretaker presses them on why they were trying to practice that by themself. Whumpee's face turns red as they admit they were worried they weren't strong enough to protect Caretaker from Whumper.

Huddling for warmth combined with nonhuman parts, like wings, tails, long pointy ears, etc. Nonhuman Caretaker uses their wings to wrap Whumpee up like a blanket, hugging them tight as they wait for the snow storm to pass. Caretaker tries to thaw Nonhuman Whumpee's long ears by rubbing them with their hands or putting socks over them. Nonhuman Whumpee and Nonhuman Caretaker twist their tails together, rub their wings together, etc to try to warm up. This can vary a lot depending on what species Whumpee and Caretaker are.

Whumpee with fire magic thinks they'll be just fine venturing into the cold, but as they use more and more magic they start to exhaust their power. By the time they get home, their power is depleted and they're freezing cold. Or maybe they don't even make it home, passing out outside where Caretaker finds them and brings them inside. They groggily wake up in front of the fireplace, leaning against Caretaker on the couch. As soon as they're lucid enough, Caretaker scolds them and makes them promise not to be so careless.

Caretaker with ice magic or cold resistance underestimates how dangerous the cold can be to Whumpee. While outside foraging for potion ingredients or doing some quest in the snow, Caretaker assumes Whumpee is right behind them. But when they turn around, Whumpee isn't there. Caretaker frantically goes back along the trail, and finds Whumpee collapsed on the ground, a layer of frost already forming over them. Whatever they were doing would have to wait. For now, they had to find some way to warm Whumpee up.

Whumper freezes Whumpee in an ice crystal as a decoration or trophy. They use magic to keep Whumpee alive and conscious, even as they're completely frozen solid. When Caretaker finally gets Whumpee out of Whumper's lair and breaks them out of the ice, they want nothing more than to get revenge on Whumper. Still, that will have to wait until Whumpee's doing better. For now, Caretaker settles for warming Whumpee up with cuddles by the fireplace, squeezing them tight and promising them that Whumper will never hurt them again.

Caretaker is just chilling (no pun intended) in their house when a portal opens up. Their rival Whumpee collapses through it. Caretaker just barely catches them before they fall face-first on the floor. Whumpee is badly injured, soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. Caretaker is just a little bit tempted to throw their rival back into the portal and close it behind them. Still, they reluctantly decide to warm Whumpee up and wait to do that until after they've recovered somewhat. Caretaker really wants Whumpee to tell them what happened. After all, as much as they dislike Whumpee, not even they would put them in this condition.

Possibly a continuation of the last prompt, rivals Caretaker and Whumpee bickering as Caretaker tries to warm Whumpee up. As they try to get the ice off with fire or a blow-dryer, Caretaker calls Whumpee an idiot. Whumpee's face turns redder, and they snap at Caretaker to shut up and get them another blanket. Caretaker makes Whumpee some hot tea to help thaw them out, but Whumpee refuses to drink it because it's too hot. Both of them want to cuddle, but neither wants to be the one to suggest it.

[hanafubukki]

Hello I'm here to deliver angst :3

Imagine an alternate universe where Yuu is king Henrik's kid

They've been secretly dating knight of dawn for a while and even fantasized about eloping

When the war starts they get locked away in a tower like a prisoner for their safety, only knight of dawn and Henrik were allowed to enter

When the humans lose the war Henrik accepts defeat and offers his child as a war trophy to the general in exchange for being kept alive in prison

Yuu and knight of dawn are devastated by this but Yuu goes through with it for the sake of making the lives of the people that used to be part of their now conquered kingdom

Time passes by and Lilia is now in a poly relationship with knight and Yuu. Yuu had given birth to silver not too long ago

Yuu was collecting some berries while their husbands were home with silver. Just before they enter their cottage a group of Henrik loyalists attack them

Lilia and Dawn try to get to them but just before they could Yuu gets hit with a spell that transports them to the future

Cue the plot of twisted wonderland

Lilia and Dawn deeply cherish silver as he's the only remaining part of Yuu they have. They tried Searching, interrogating but no matter what they did no one uttered a peep about what spell Yuu was hit with and no amount of tracking spells could find them

Malleus was the first person to recognise Yuu as they were a parent he loved but wasn't allowed to be with publicly due to the senate push back

Hello Anonie 🌷🌺🌸

You know Anonie when I received this ask, I laughed because I was like “I won’t make Malleus and Lilia angst to cope I won’t make angst to cope.”

And then I received this ask as if it’s a sign and just ended up laughing. 😂

OT3 angst it is, except I’m feeling a bit rebellious and I want a happy ending so I’m going to give it to them to the best I can. 😌👏🙏

But also imagine being Henrik’s kid? Silver had a breakdown? Imagine your father being the one to cause so much grief and death? Yikes. 😮‍💨

Your father just gives you up for his own head argh. You can’t do anything because you’re royalty and you don’t want your people to suffer.

You willingly go to the fae side as a royal captive, leaving behind you lover and your people.

You expected to be treated terribly, but you’re not? You still get fae that looks down on you of course. But the fae royal treat you cordially enough. You even get your own guard, a well known one in fact, General Vanrouge.

He’s a surly one and one that makes sure to keep an eye on you for any suspicious actives…but he doesn’t treat you bad.

In fact, he’s rather nice to you in his own way. It’s kind of charming. Similar and yet different than your Knight of Dawn.

Eventually a sort of tie is formed between humans and fae per Levan’s and your cooperation.

And you suddenly find yourself…in a relationship with both Dawn and Lilia. Meleanor finds it hilarious and this is used as a way to ease relations between races. Let’s call it an arranged marriage of sorts 😂

You (royalty), Dawn (well known Knight), and Lilia (the General) would make for a great image of peace, wouldn’t you say?

You’re enjoying life. A beautiful baby, wonderful husbands, and funny in laws and their cute dragon kid.

Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

You get attacked by loyalists. They asked you to be the figure head of the rebellion group and cut ties with the fae. Of course you didn’t, in the end you got hit with a mysterious spell.

You disappeared right in front of Dawn and Lilia’s eyes. No matter what they did, they couldn’t find you.

And this is where I’m going to twist your scenario Anonie. A plan is made. This is yet to be a world of peace. It will take awhile. So Dawn, Silver, and Malleus is put to sleep. Until peace is brought. So history won’t repeat itself as it did with you.

Lilia is awake, he’s takes the mantle of helping relations between countries with Levan. An ambassador of you will.

The first one to wake is Malleus like in canon.

Then you have Silver.

A couple years after, it’s Dawn.

Years pass, and most of them end up at NRC. Dawn is a sword instructor at RSA but also part of NRC as well. Easier way to spend time with family this way.

Then comes the day of Grim’s mayhem but the difference? Diasomnia was evacuated from the mirror chamber. They had to make sure Malleus and co were protected. They weren’t going to make the same mistakes.

So how do you meet Malleus and the others?

Well of course like in canon, Malleus realizes someone now lives at Ramshackle dorm.

You noticed glowing lights and they look and feel familiar. You run outside and is shocked to see Meleanor…no, it’s not her but Malleus. He’s all grown up.

Malleus recognized you right away. You both have an emotional reunion.

You were reunited with one of your boys again. 🥹💞

Soon after, another emotional reunion takes place with the rest.

———

Extra:

*Some time in the future*

You’re reading a history book for Trein’s class but half of what’s written…didn’t happen that way?

“This didn’t happen.”

Lilia, nonchalantly, “Don’t mind it. We had to change some things on how the war took place and ended.”

You couldn’t be happier, “Good, I hope that asshole of a father of mine died in misery and shame.”

———

[mellowwillowy]

TW: Physical and Mental Abuse, mentioned killing animals.

Yandere who is always there for you, whether you are at your highest or your lowest, he is always there to support you.

Yandere who has always been a gentleman, never doing anything that brings discomfort to you. He courts you religiously and never goes overbroad in his way, managing to worm himself into your heart.

Yandere who is so happy the moment you agree to bind yourself with him for eternity, his gloved hand slides the wedding ring onto your finger.

Yandere who treats you as usual until you start to see through his facade of a gentleman. Beyond the respected man of a Judge is a man of an inferiority complex.

And that you have always been nothing but a trophy to sate his ego. Someone who can stand on the high road but never at the same height as he does.

Yandere who one day found you snooping his diary, eyes tinted in anger, you lost your consciousness the moment one of his many thick books hit the back of your head unknowingly.

Yandere who enjoys seeing you so dependent on them, unable to even cut your own meal without breaking a sweat and a hiss.

Yandere who loves seeing blood drip out of your patched fingers, fingernails ripped by him out of love.

Yandere who treats you more as a doll and far from a spouse with each day passing.

Marlon had always enjoyed dressing you up in countless coutures. It was subtle at first but the moment you realized how ugly the root of his facade was, he no longer bothered to force you to wear what you might not like.

Contrary to his gloved hands, yours were miserable. You couldn't have a day in which your bandages wouldn't be seeping red.

Why did you even bother reading through his diary? Should you have feigned ignorance and led a peaceful life with the gentleman your husband was, you wouldn't have to bear the shame he would make you shoulder as he helped you bathe.

Oh, where had the man you once loved gone to? The man who was always there when you were at your lowest, blissfully unaware of the fact that he was the cause of your downfall, and the man who slowly guided you up into a modified throne for you.

Oh, what had happened to all those times? Ignorance is truly bliss and you regretted how your eyes and heart pried way too deep into him.

Your husband had always been referred to as a once-in-a-millennium prodigy yet his diary stated otherwise, filled with scribblings of how he still lacks a lot in comparison to someone.

You picked up on his facade from the time you started to live with him under the same roof. The way he would rub circles on his gloved fingers when he was troubled to the way he had tendencies to kill doves whenever he failed in doing something.

Would he kill you like the dead doves he had buried in the garden?

You couldn't help but bury yourself with countless thoughts of how he would dispose of you for being able to see through his secret.

But the day you would end up buried six feet underground never came.

You were alive but never unscratched. A high-collared garment that hid the bruises around your neck, ankles that were sore from the rope that dug into the skin every time you walked any faster, and gloved hands that tried their best to use the dining utensils properly while maintaining your expression, trying not to wring it with pain and tears.

Alas, you mistook his way of loving someone as a way of torturing someone until one of his many 'siblings' visited. Marlon was away when one of them walked up to you, the woman shared almost a complete resemblance to him.

"I heard that Marlon really cherishes you as his spouse and it seems to be true." Despite how stoic her face was, with no hatred nor mockery in her tone and words, her words left you thinking. You eyed the family crest that was embroidered on her shirt collar, XL.

Just how exactly does his 'family' love someone to the point even his 'Sister' acknowledge this as something normal? Perhaps you were the one who never tried to understand it?

--

Bonus: WIP Comic

[genericpuff]

Hello, brazilian anon here! So I have been following criticisms of LO for a while now, and Psyche and Eros caught my attention in special, because their relationship is legit a racist trope commonly applied to indigenous people: Woman of color is put in a arranged marriage or pressured into marrying a guy from her village/tribe but "falls in love" with a white dude who "saves" her from her abusive and "uncivilized" family. Think of Disney's Pocahontas. This trope is commonly used to dehumanize non-european/anglo-saxon cultures and portray them as barbaric, and is rooted in colonialism and its direct heir, imperialism, as a means for colonizers to justify and sugarcoat raping and forcing women of color to marry them. So not a good look for Rachel.

OH YEAH IT IS

(you just opened Pandora's Box by mentioning Pocahontas around me LMAO)

It's even more egregious when you consider how Rachel changed the original myth from Psyche undergoing trials on her own to her ... being turned into a nymph servant for Aphrodite. Like huh. Is that really your final draft, Rachel? Have you thought this through?

I made a very spicy post about this like a year and a half ago and honestly I think it's still worth talking about because it's incredibly telling that Psyche had her entire story uprooted and replaced with a version where she's transformed into a non-POC character to disguise herself as a servant to a woman who's already racist towards nymphs. It's got that issue of "take the black character and transform them into an animal/other being that isn't black so that we don't have to have a black character onscreen for more than 10 minutes."

And yeah, you can tell how much Rachel is absentmindedly taking from Disney without challenging what those stories were portraying or asking deeper questions to get to the heart of their messaging. Pocahontas is rightfully panned for being a very white-washed version of a story that was written in the blood shed by Native Americans at the hands of colonizers. "Pocahontas" herself, even, was not some independent native woman who fell in love with the "one good white guy" on the boat, she was a teenage girl, whose life was spared but made worse when she was forced to travel overseas to be used as a prop to justify their continued actions in murdering and colonizing the "savages" overseas; she was then forced into marriage and had to carry the children of her captors, all while being treated as an exotic spectacle by the people around her who would undoubtedly kill her at the first sign of disobedience.

Her name was Matoaka. Her life and story is not something that should be romanticized. It's a tragedy and much of what instigated it is still alive and well today. She only lived to be 21.

I don't know if Rachel intentionally referenced or ripped off Pocahontas in Lore Olympus the same way she clearly has with Hercules and Beauty and the Beast. But it's incredibly telling in how she treats the racial divide between nymphs and gods and how she's twisted the Eros x Psyche myth into what it is that even if she did watch Pocahontas, she probably never realized how problematic it is at its core in the way that it's told.

In the original myth, Psyche is a woman who's meant to represent the fickleness of vanity - the loneliness it can make one feel to be admired and not truly loved, and the destruction that can be brought about in jealousy - and her pursuit in finding genuine love in Eros, a journey she travels alone, thematically with the rest of the story.

In Lore Olympus, she's an illiterate woman of color whose only purpose is to be Eros' wife, robbed of all agency so that she can be a trophy for him to earn, a test for him to pass. It's boring and really icky when you really peel back the layers of it with Psyche's character design in mind. Even when she finally does get more agency in her task to bring down Apollo - or at the very least, keep an eye on him - it's still at the behest of Zeus who gives her immortality not as a reward for overcoming the trials she set out to pass, but so she can be his errand boy. So once again she's not capable of doing anything motivated by her own best interests (especially when she already knows how dangerous Apollo is, why is she the one who has to follow this guy around?)

So yeah, no, not a good look at all LMAO

[lostuntothisworld]

Some Propaganda for my "Adrien has 2 amoks because he is his own dead twin sister" theory

I've mentioned this theory many times before, and have written a proper post about it (linked here) BUT! Season 6 has started to officially air and while we're only 4 (very out of order) episodes deep, I am practically vibrating with the implications.

In summary, my theory is that Emilie created 2 sentikid embryos, and that's why she succumbed to her illness long before Colt did. There's a tragic phenomenon that can happen with a multiple pregnancy called Vanishing Twin. It's where one of the twin embryos miscarries. The twin is usually reabsorbed by the mother or is passed, but the surviving twin embryo can also absorb their twin. This would cause a second phenomenon called Human Chimerism. Adrien's twin sister was created with a separate amok, so Adrien would have 2 amoks, and 2 sets of DNA.

Now, onto season 6's possible foreshadowing below the cut...

First of all, we need to let the cat out of the bag (ha), and talk about the incredible post @bklily wrote linked here. In Werepapas, Adrien is trapped in a trophy (because he is a prize on a pedestal to be won... but that 's not the point of this post), and because the akuma flew into the Twin Rings, Ladybug had to break them. (The fact that they could possibly be fake rings is irrelevant with this point).

While in the trophy, and the rings broken, Adrien, as Schrodinger's Cat, was simultaneously dead and alive. @bklily put it best. "The cat is always dead and alive." Adrien's dead twin sister would be woven into his DNA, and the boy is always going to be dead and alive, no matter what.

Another thing I think is important to point out is that the Twin Rings were emphasized to be TWIN rings multiple times in the episode, in a way that hasn't been done before. According to family tradition, the rings represent a marriage between England and France, and Gabi Grassette/Gabriel Agreste was French, while Emilie Graham de Vanily was English. Of course their twins would be a "marriage" between England and France. The Graham de Vanily twin rings are two rings that become one...

Even an episode that doesn't have focus on Adrien such as Daddycop has implications.

While he is in the process of being akumatized by Chrysalis, Roger is lovingly cradling an INVISIBLE baby girl. It's his precious Sabrina, whom he loves more than anything. My heart skipped a beat when Roger called the way Sabrina was treated a "'MISCARRIAGE' of justice!" Because in order for Adrien to be his own twin sister, there has to be a miscarriage, and Emilie would have had to hold her darling baby boy, while her daughter was invisible.

Adrien, both alive and dead... with two sets of DNA, both male and female. Twins that become one... Which brings me to my next point: Mylene's Progress Pride pin.

I mentioned it in a previous post (linked here), but this pin includes the almost always forgotten/ignored/left out intersex symbol (a purple RING on a yellow background). It's a tiny detail that has major ramifications for my theory.

You see, Adrien has 2 amoks, and if my theory is correct, 2 sets of DNA, both male and female. This is an intersex condition that is rare, but DOES exit in real life. While Adrien was created by magic, he would have a condition that does occur in the real world. Intersex characters are exceedingly rare in fiction, and it's even rarer that they have an intersex condition that actually happens in real life.

As for the reasons that I think Adrien's twin was created to be female, I feel like it's pretty self explanatory, but I will explain my reasoning.

There is a definitive femininity to Adrien. From the fact that not so insignificant portion of the fandom thinks he could be a trans girl or nonbinary, to the show sticking him in a dress and called him a princess, to the way he's been conditioned by his parents in a way that is very relatable to girls. Too emotional, too innocent and needs to be sheltered, valued for his beauty and not for his considerable smarts, and locked in a "Princess tower" for most of his childhood.

The Portuguese dub even has Marinette's grandma Gina call Adrien "handsome as a princess" in Weredads. While the jury is still out that the English and French dubs will keep that line, I am willing to bet that they will.

I would also like to point out that within the Resistance, Adrien is Comrade Mayo, while Ivan is Comrade Aioli. Both are very similar sauces that are often confused with one another. We know from the Miraculous Secrets card game that Ivan has a baby sister whom he adores. He loves her so much, that his Alliance Ring shows a little baby girl during the finale when he and everyone else were suffering from nightmares. Ivan's particular nightmare seems to be one of abandonment, which is also one of Adrien's big fears other than being trapped.

Kind of a contradiction there, with Adrien being afraid of abandonment but also of being trapped.... ah anyway.

In an interview, Astruc and the other writers said that Ivan has issues, and we'll find out about them in future seasons. I'm willing to put money that his abandonment issues stem from something with his baby sister. How can a baby girl abandon a teenage brother? I'm not sure what the writers would intend for Ivan and his baby sister, but I do know the angle they could potentially put for Adrien's abandonment issues and his possible dead twin sister.

I'm sure there are other reasons that I've missed so feel free to add them! I'm so excited for season 6, and possible future posts expanding on this theory propaganda!

[rewrittenwrongs]

It’s the first of October in my timezone, which means it’s time to post my first Whumptober fill! I chose the prompt Panic Attack.

Heavily inspired by the lovely @brucewaynehater101’s Wingless Wing AU

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | Whumptober masterpost | part 1 | part 2 coming soon

TW: past wing removal, mentions of anti-hybrid sentiments, mentions of trafficking/selling body parts, panic attack, accidental self harm (biting lip until it bleeds to ground himself), and a very very non detailed instance of vomiting

Dragons were the rarest hybrids out there.

They were some of the most well known, too. Everyone’s heard of dragon hybrids. They’re like the role models of the hybrid world, the knights and princesses children look up to, or the monsters under your bed if you’re not a hybrid. Usually, they’re treated much the same as true dragons: fictional. Mythical. Imaginary.

Now, if you were especially interested in them, or studied genetics or hybrid physiology, you’d know they were real. You’d know they often had huge wingspans comparable to the largest of seabird hybrids, and airborne agility almost on par with hummingbirds. You’d know they were rumoured to command the wind itself when they flew. You’d know their scales were tough and beautiful and practically immune to fire. You’d know lead was one of the only things capable of burning them while they lived. You’d know full blooded dragon hybrids could have long, magnificent tails and dramatic horns, claws instead of fingers or toes, slitted pupils that could see in the dark and scales tougher than wood.

You’d also know that, while they did exist once, they were hunted for their wings and scales and horns. They haven’t been officially pronounced extinct but neither has any other long-gone hybrid species. Anyone with passing knowledge of them knew they weren’t around anymore, outside the odd museum exhibit or old photo. Any rumour of still living dragon hybrids today was just that: a rumour. Though, the general populace—just the hybrids, really—loved to spread stories of them going into hiding. Using magic to cloak themselves until the day they could walk safely among humans.

Jason knows a lot about dragon hybrids. Much more than your average hybrid, and probably more than even a hybrid physiologist. He had a hyperfixation on them for a time, even before that pair of dragon wings started being passed around Gotham’s underworld.

He knows all the myths and folklore about dragon hybrids being born with an affinity for magic, about them using their skills to hide themselves from poachers and traffickers, building enchanted necklaces or broaches that disguised them as regular humans. He’s heard the legends of them being born of fire itself, being immune to temperatures that would render metal liquid, even being able to summon or control it. About burning their dead ones to return them to the ashes and embers they were once created from, as heat only blackened their scales after death. He’s heard the tales of dragons being kidnapped as children for their wings, because of a very special property of theirs: even after their wings were cut off they stayed magically connected to the hybrid, and grew along with them. It was much easier to kidnap and mutilate children than it was adults, and then they could use the hybrids as slaves, since they had to stay alive anyway for the wings to grow.

A lot of the myths—folklore, children’s tales, nursery rhymes—were about a dragon losing their wings and getting them back. A common theme among legends was the tie between wings and hybrid: a tie that, if the wings weren’t skinned or carved away for trophies, allowed the hybrid to reconnect them.

Jason tried not to get his hopes up, but he had to admit, once he finally tracked down those wings the other crime lords kept playing hot potato with… it would be nice if he could track down their owner and return them. Even if all there was to be done was bury or burn the things and give the hybrid a proper funeral.

Now, with the childhood hyperfixation and the elusive pair of trafficked wings that have been evading him for as long as he’s been Red Hood, he has a lot of respect for dragon hybrids. Combine that with all the hybrid trafficking rings he’s taken down, both as Red Hood and as Robin, you can see why he’s pissed about Tim’s new gliders.

Ever since Damian became Robin, since Tim swapped suits and changed title, he’d altered his glider to look like dragon wings. Dragon. Wings.

Now, it’s been almost five months since Tim came back and handed over all the info about Bruce’s whereabouts and proved he was alive, about four since they actually got Bruce back. There’s still some tension between everyone, but things have settled down a lot. But. Quite a bit of the tension could be blamed on those damn. Gliders.

Jason was actually glad when he saw them get set on fire a few nights ago; huge holes burning into the material and making Tim abandon it before the engine caught fire too. He tried a little to convince Tim to swap back to a design more feather-like but he was adamant. Jason could understand wanting to imitate the others, it must be tough being one of the only non-hybrids in the family, but WHY did he have to imitate dragon hybrids of all things? Because they’re cool? It’s insensitive and in bad taste!

That said, Jason had been biting his tongue about the issue. But tonight, when he swung by the cave, he came across Tim in the workshop, tinkering around and probably trying to improve his newest glider model. It’s the first time Jason’s seen the prototype. He can’t keep quiet anymore.

“You’re seriously sticking with dragon wings?”

Tim didn’t look up, didn’t turn to face him. “Yes. I’ve told you, I’m not changing my mind.”

Right. Jason’s definition of ‘biting his tongue’ was a little different than most’s. “You do know they’re real hybrids, right?”

“Yes, you’ve infodumped to me about them before.” He kept serenely fitting the scale-patterned material in place, connecting panels and hiding wire mesh and metal supports. “It’s no more cultural appropriation than my previous gliders were.”

Jason bristled. Tim has had some form of glider since he first debuted as Robin, and they were all styled after bird wings, designed to look like feathers. Like the Robins before him. Not the most feared, segregated, hunted, and literally extinct hybrid species in existence!

Jason had to take several deep breaths to stop himself from shooting the things then and there. Tim had already put together most of the emergency engine, the jetpack or ‘batpack’ as it was jokingly called: shooting it would just cause a huge explosion and an even huger mess. Not to mention Tim was in the way, he didn’t want to resort to physical injury just yet. “Clearly you weren’t listening when I told you about how often they were trafficked and poached for their wings.”

Tim huffed, still refusing to even turn his head. “I heard you. I just don’t see a problem with this.”

“So you don’t have a problem with the severed pair of dragon wing currently being traded through Gotham’s underworld?”

Tim froze.

There’s the reaction he’s been looking for. A bit of Jason’s vindictive glee seeped into his voice. “You didn’t know? There have been rumours about them since I was putting heads in duffel bags. Even the Joker knows about them. The hybrid is almost certainly dead by now. And still, their wings are being toted from warehouse to warehouse, crate to crate, one hand to someone else’s. It’s only a matter of time before someone keeps them for good and turns them into a pair of cloaks and an interesting taxidermy.”

“What do they look like?”

Jason blinked. Then his rage swelled so fiercely he could barely see or breathe. He wanted to know what they looked like!? WHY!? So he could take notes? Make his glider more realistic? WHAT THE FUCK.

Jason very nearly exploded about it, but then he caught sight of something that made him pause for a split second: Tim’s hands, curled into fists against his work, shaking slightly. Then as he paused he caught sight of something else: the slope of his shoulders, hunched, defensive, quivering. He was leaning forward like his knees would collapse any second.

Jason hesitated. Well, maybe... maybe if he answered he would learn why Tim reacted like that, or at least learn enough to infer. If it was so he could make his glider more realistic he could just shoot him.

He’s only seen them once, for a few seconds, but they were beautiful—and heartbreaking—enough he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget them. “They’re red. Crimson. Big, but built like they’re kind of small. Curved, streamline, built for speed and agility. They’re almost iridescent, the right lighting makes them shine gold.”

Tim shuddered, violently, then collapsed, vomiting onto the stone floor.

“Woah—Tim—“ Jason darted forward, dropping into a kneel beside Tim with a flair of his wings. He reached for his shoulders automatically but Tim jerked away like he’d stabbed him, letting out a choked exclamation. Jason pulled back and let his wings settle over him instead, shielding but not touching. “Tim?”

He hesitated as Tim scrambled to his feet, shoulders hunched and arms jerky like his back was on fire. His breathing was loud and uneven and there was a tear on his cheek. His eyes were red and wild, darting around like he was searching desperately for an escape, like he didn’t know where he was. Jason got back up on his knees in preparation for following. He kept a wing hovering over Tim’s back. “Tim? What—“

Tim stumbled into an uneven run, arms more jerking than swinging, footfalls uneven like he was accounting for weight that wasn’t there. Jason hoped he was putting things together wrong.

Jason followed a few steps behind as Tim ran for the exit, and caught him when he stumbled and collapsed in the doorway. He was muttering over and over, “Please don’t please stop please stop stop stop,” between horrible, gut deep sobs. He fought against Jason for a moment but stopped quickly, leaning as far away as he could get, but not putting up a physical fight. He was hyperventilating.

Jason kept his hold secure, thinking back to the last—and until now, only—time he’d seen Tim having a panic attack: the sight of his hands in his hair and on his shoulders and blood running through his fingers and down his chin. Right now his arms were mostly pinned at his sides, hands struggling to curl around Jason’s arms, still protected by his jacket and armour. Jason kept his grip away from his shoulders and upper back in case his hunch was right. He curled one wing around Tim’s front, gently, just enough to brush against his face and legs. “Hey, hey hey, it’s okay, no one’s hurting you.”

Tim whined and tossed his head, fingers scrabbling against Jason’s forearms. Tears dripped from his chin. Blood was beading on his lip.

Jason bit off a swear. He’d forgotten he was still wearing his mask, the voice modulator always bothered Tim when he was already on edge. He adjusted his grip so he had one arm around Tim’s waist, still pinning an arm, and one wing caving him in, and used his spare hand to remove his metal mask.

Tim’s struggle renewed when he sensed apparent weakness, shoving and kicking, but he was off balance and uncoordinated and all he achieved was making Jason’s wing curl tighter around him. The sensation seemed to throw him off. Confusion bled into the features that weren’t twisted with pain and fear.

“Tim, can you try to breathe for me?” Jason said. He placed his mask on the ground and used his other wing to slide it away quietly.

Tim sobbed, chest heaving, shoulders quivering. “Stop. It hurts.”

Jason’s heart ached. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tim’s entire frame jerked with the force of his next sob. Tears splashed to the ground like little shards of shattering glass. They were joined by a droplet of blood.

Jason made a cooing noise low in his throat, humming in a way that never came quite as naturally as it did before his death. He tried to imitate Dick’s comforting calls. Tim pressed his face into the feathers of Jason’s wing, hands like iron bands around his arm.

Jason repeated the noise, tentatively reaching out and stroking a hand through his hair. It got longer while he was searching for Bruce, and he hasn’t cut it yet.

Tim stayed tense as a taut wire, but didn’t curl into or away from the feeling. Jason couldn’t tell if his breathing was getting faster or slower. “It hurts,” he sobbed, “it hurts it hurts it hurts make it stop, please make it stop.”

Jason scrambled for what to do. He kept stroking through Tim’s hair. Maybe—his mother used to…

Jason cleared his throat and quietly began to sing.

His voice has never been quite as smooth and full as it was before his death. It’s not rough or unpleasant, necessarily, but he became unnervingly aware of the difference as he began singing the same song Catherine sang when he was too scared to sleep. There was a faint shakiness, a fragility that caused pain if he tried to yell, not to mention he couldn’t hit half the notes. He kept it quiet, low, a poor rendition of a dead woman’s lullaby.

Tim kept muttering, kept begging and sobbing, but the faintest hints of awareness were gradually starting to fill his eyes.

His arms squeezed Jason’s forearm around his middle.

His feet shifted against the ground like he was searching for purchase.

He pressed his head, lightly, into Jason’s feathers with a whine.

A shudder wracked through him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” His voice was slurred and uneven.

Finally, he stopped speaking to a threat that wasn’t there.

With another violent shiver, he began looking around a little. Staring at the wrist of Jason’s wing. At the arm pinning him in place, then at the body he was half slumped onto.

Tim whined loudly, longingly, so eerily similar to calls for safety-protection-flock that it made Jason’s hindbrain go crazy. Tim began shifting against his brother’s hold, in a different way than before. Jason kept an arm and wing around him but let him move, a little wary. Tim twisted around until he and Jason were front to front, at which point he collapsed onto him with a low mournful sound, head beneath his chin and arms curling loosely around him.

Jason wrapped both arms tighter around him, keeping them on his lower back, and shifted them both until Jason was lying on his back with Tim half on top of him, tented beneath his wings. He kept singing the entire time, now on his third rendition of the lullaby. Tim had stopped mumbling. He hadn’t stopped shaking or crying. His breaths were better but still shaky and erratic.

Jason continued carding through his hair. He seemed to like that. And the singing, Jason kept that up too, even though his throat was beginning to tickle.

After a few minutes he noticed the tears had stopped and his breath had evened out. Tim was asleep. Jason didn’t blame him, panic attacks were exhausting. He carried him through the elevator and up the stairs to his room, set Tim in his bed and himself in a beanbag, despite all his instincts screaming about flock and physical contact and protection and perceived abandonment. He distracted himself with Tim’s copy of The Little Prince. In the original French, nice.

Tim awoke seventy minutes later. Not that Jason was counting. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, sporting an impressive bedhead. He licked his lips. His eyes landed on Jason and shifted rapidly from confusion to understanding to fear. He curled the blanket into his fist.

“You have some explaining to do.”

Tim huffed as if he thought this really was all blown out of proportion. As if. “Not here. My Nest.”

Ah, the Nest, Tim’s seperate base of operations and regular hang-out spot for Young Justice, not to be confused with the nest, an elevated platform of ropes and mattresses and blankets inside the Batcave. Not confusing at all.

Jason actually felt proud for a split second upon realising he was welcome in Tim’s safe space, an honour none of the other bats held, before remembering no, actually, this wasn’t trust this was fear. Fear caused by him, however accidental.

“Let’s go, then.”

[fagsex]

something to be said about how Jesse calls Walter 'Hitler' the way any offhanded young adult does when he's mad at him for being controlling and over the top cruel, and how when Jesse figured out what the Heisenberg name was, in reference to Walter, he immediately identified him as 'one of Hitler's men' and a Nazi, before anything else, and how Walter's views on people and human life is very clearly a form of eugenic, and how Walter committed murders and crimes for the sake of people he deemed deserving of love and respect, his friends, his family, primarily. but still punished them for doubting him, and everyone else's opinions and lives were moot.

and theres something to be said about how Walter slid in with an actual literal Aryan Brotherhood like it was the easiest thing in the world, and how Jesse did not care for Todd even before he murdered a child in front of him, and especially not after, even not knowing his affiliations, because his stance on human life and activity are those of his uncle, and he's blunt and honest about that, and his background with a gang of Neo Nazis gives him the head of a Neo Nazi, even if he's nicer or younger, or shows the captive humanity, he's still someone who shot an innocent mother (a Mexican woman, may i add, who lived on her own with her son, who Jesse tried to save from her environment), he's still someone who has shot many innocent people in cold blood based on suspicion, he's still someone who killed a waving child on a dirt bike, and took a trophy from his corpse. and kept it. in a cage.

something to be said about how strongly he defends Walter, how keenly he attends to his everyone command and word, how he has stars in his eyes at his every word. how both Todd and Walter use the same boy, the same child, as nothing more than a pawn to abuse to keep Jesse in place. Todd is young, Walter is a father. neither of them see this child as human. they see him as cannon fodder.

see, Jesse's human. he's like them. but he's lesser than they are. just enough. he's not human the way they are, and so it's their jobs to correct him. maybe they'll get him right. there's something about how easily Walter took a hit on Jesse, asking the Neo Nazi Nrotherhood if they would treat him like family. they immediately understand him, and assure him that they do. they're not monsters, if Jesse's family, he's family. he's human, just like them, he just needs to be taken care of. family means he needs to be shot in the back of head, with respect, quickly, and with dignity. not like everybody else, not like an animal. that's what family is, and Walter explains Jesse's like family.

when they realize Jesse has something they can offer them, they take it. they don't waste that chance. Jesse has something that makes him irreplaceable, ergo human, ergo worthy of life. a tortured existence, in a cage, kept. chained to a bunker to pump out the opiate of the masses, but it's life. he's worthy of life, he has something, so they keep him alive. Todd wants it, so they all do. that's family. they understand family. Jesse's a part of the family now, the brotherhood. Walter sees him as family. Todd respects Walter. Walter, who kills and dies with them. suicidal Walter dying alone in a bunker. he destroys those he knows can hurt him and his name and his people, and dies alone, in a bunker, by his own hand.

and they're on the same level. they're family. maybe just the way a pet is a part of the family. you'd save your dog from a housefire the same way you'd save your brother. but you know the difference between your dog and your brother. and so do they. and you know the difference between your dog and a rabid one. something to be said about it. i think.

[oceanlipgloss]

ONLINE FRIENDS

LEVIATHAN.

+ warnings: angst, strong language.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

It is said that existing in the same world as someone you cherish is better than nothing at all. He had read that many times. Many times. More than he can count. Despite the different timezones, the great distances, the knowledge that the two of you live in the same galaxy—separated by tangible barriers just—is enough. But even then it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.

They the two them are like online friends. Overwhelmingly close, fun together, yet never truly knowing each other that well.

What if the only thing that kept them apart was not metrics, but who he himself was?

Too shy, too awkward. So clumsy, so useless.

Fickle.

Was he fickle?

Yeah, the heart can be a fickle little fucker, but was his heart like that too?

He’s always been told that he’s loyal to his passions, that he loves his interests so passionately. That had always been true, always been his conviction, until she came along and it began to feel wrong.

Sometimes—no, on most days—he couldn’t quite focus solely on her. The real, living, breathing woman with a beating heart. He bundled himself up in fiction. He wrapped his heart up with the virtual stuff and let the phantom medicines treat his deep-rooted anomalies, or at least waited for them to.  

He liked those worlds. In them, he could be worth something. He could be number one, yank all the great ranks. He could conquer the good things and be a celebrated one: a holder of grand specimens of accomplishments, an owner of the rarest of premium trophies.

In the planet beyond the intangible bars—with their pixellised models and complex codes—though, he was...no one. And sometimes, even his soul in that binary place was mangled by those who are better, even if they had not spent as much time—if at all, really—brandishing their skills like knives. Simply because they were born with talent that glowed in a surreal magnitude of magnetic stars in their cells.

He liked certain challenges, of course, but there are times when it gets...too much.

To him, it seemed that almost everyone else excelled at something, no matter how apparently useless, and there is always that one candidate or contestant that crushes all others with the golden weight of their shiny gifts.

Yeah.

He didn’t like himself.

What was there to like?

He couldn’t even love right, like his love for everything special in his measly life was a wheel of hot pizza that he had to cut up into pieces time and again. And when he bit into it, he always scalded his tied tongue.

More often than not, he loathed the real world. In it, millions of normal creatures normally go about their normal lives, while he remains a lot like the oldest model of the oldest Macintosh computer models: freezing, lagging, malfunctioning.

Mismatched.

He never had the right words, never mind the perfectly right skills.

At least characters have pre-programmed reactions. They do predictable things. Real people are nothing like that. Characters don’t hurt him. They just don’t. They’re not meant to, you know? It is not part of their program until it is—so even if and when they do, he knows it is only because they were coded to.

Yet, he’s expected to unlock the door, go out and deal with actual people, handle the scummy things they do like it’s nothing, then at the end of the day go back to his room. Everyday.

He hated these disgusting times.

When you’re like that—lost and unprepared for the basics of your century—even those closest to you can feel most unreachable, like distant friends online.

+notes: yes, hello, bonjour, I am regretfully indeed still alive. And in celebration of this fleeting but grand surprise visit of mine, I have prepared a Michelin-star humble feast, so why don't you help yourselves to the first piece I've written in over 2 months and eat this mouldy writing that has been aging in my WIPs for so very long? I invite you to indulge in a main course of braised angst, seasoned with an ounce of identity crisis projection. In all seriousness, though, the fic may have been an old WIP, but I literally just scooped it out of the pan finished it. It's still fresh. Very fresh. *logs back out*

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[theheirofthesharingan]

Random question, but let's say that Itachi lived right? Like all the way to Boruto, do you think Itachi would probably be that one, almost, father figure to Sarada in a way? Considering since Sasuke has always been away from the two of them (Sakura and Sarada) if Itachi decided to stay in Konoha instead of traveling with Sasuke? Also I wonder how Itachi would react to Sasuke being with Sakura as well, I wonder, what do you think?

Interesting question.

To answer this, we need to consider some major factors that were crucial in shaping their lives.

If itachi lived, he should have the development he did during the war i.e. realizing treating Sasuke like a baby was a bad choice he made all along.

Sasuke doesn't know Itachi is alive. Why would he leave the village in the first place if Itachi was alive?

Itachi doesn't know where Sasuke is. Why else would Itachi stay in the village if he could be with his brother?

Konoha has somehow cleared his name and acknowledged its own crimes against the clan.

Still, I'm going to answer this question with the ideas that are independent of each other and don't need each other to exist (if that makes sense?)

I think Itachi would be a terrible father figure to Sarada. He didn't grow up to lead a normal life full of love and comfort. He was a Shinobi who was trained to kill. That's what he did all his life and he never had the time to be anything other than that. He loved Sasuke a lot, but his expression was thoroughly violent, although under extreme duress, and in a slightly easier life he'd have served better. He doesn't know how to be a normal person. He doesn't understand how to be something that's not a Shinobi and a killer. He was conditioned since his childhood to live a certain way and the change in the lifestyle would not change anything for him. I personally don't see him being able to guide Sarada or be a positive/healthy influence in her life. He can't give anything to her, or anyone, for that matter.

He's way, way too damaged as a person. Even if you include therapy sessions those won't erase his past and what he feels about himself. He can't offer anything in a bonding that isn't with Sasuke. He'd still feel some affection towards Sarada. He has no reason to not like her, but he can't be a parent figure to her. I mean, isn't that the whole reason Sasuke, too, isn't a 'good father' to Sarada? He too is damaged beyond repair.

Some anti-SS content under the cut. No slander or bashing of the characters, but my opinion on why Itachi might not approve of Sakura as his brother's life partner. I'll tag the post accordingly. Please don't read if you're a fan of the pairing.

He will not be overly thrilled about Sakura being in Sasuke's life. Sasuke didn't love Sakura and Sakura never loved Sasuke. She was obsessed with an image of his she found alluring and his absence in her life fed that longing further, making her feel she loved him. He was a trophy for her she was to win in the contest of her rivalry against Ino.

In other words, she had no genuine feelings for Sasuke.

Sasuke, too, never felt any affiliation towards her. Yes, there were some moments he cared about her deeply, but he's genuinely kind and caring towards people. If he loved her he'd be more open about his feelings.

When Itachi met Team 7 in the Kazekage Rescue Arc, he paid no attention to Sakura. His attention was solely on Naruto and was happy to see Naruto had grown so much from the last time they met. There was a reason he entrusted Sasuke with Naruto. And he wouldn't be too pleased to know that Sakura once tried to kill his brother for whom he bore the worst pains and sins in his heart.

That alone would infuriate him. However, it wouldn't matter to him if Sasuke really loved Sakura, because I don't think the Itachi that bid farewell to Sasuke in the war would claim any stakes on him. If Sasuke loved Sakura he would be okay with it, but not trust her. Itachi's brain works in different ways. xD

Itachi would also understand there's a reason his brother doesn't want to be with his family. And his lack of affection towards them would tell him everything. He decided things for Sasuke when he saw him as a child in the past, but won't make the same mistakes again.

I think he'd like Sarada, but won't be extremely fond of Sakura. Though I don't see him being good with kids at all.

[yanderes-galore]

YES YES YES I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG FOR DARK SOULS (I didn't realize it was a last minute addition to that one period) 

Could you do general romantic HC's for Pontiff Sulyvahn? He's *such* an irredeemable bastard, and is genuinely the only souls character (Aside from Elden Ring's Mohg, but they're completely separate universes, and maybe an exception for Adrich) that's actually just pure evil. No gray morality or anything. If you don't mind, could you also do a small tidbit on how he'd treat a Crossbreed!Darling? Thanks again, I love your work so much

I tried my best to research and not call upon Dark Souls Anon for this so I hope I did good. Sorry it's short, I wasn't sure what to add :(

Yandere! Pontiff Sulyvahn with Crossbreed! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Imprisonment, Isolation, "Courting" (It's not), Ownership, Dehumanizing behavior, Forced relationship.

Based on what my research has told me, Sulyvahn would be nearly impossible to flee from.

Through charisma, sorcery, and exploitative behavior... Sulyvahn managed to conquer an entire holy city and more.

Once he did so, he created monstrosities through magic and made many of his loyal pets.

Not only that, but he created a magical barrier around Irithyll, one to prevent anyone from leaving or entering unless they were given a certain doll.

I imagine you'd be a crossbreed related to Gwyndolin and Yorshka.

One that has draconic features like other crossbreeds shown (I do believe this is what you meant?)

Sulyvahn would imprison you as his form of courting.

Based on who he is and what he's done in lore, you're yet another pet.

Except, you are no experiment or made a monster by a special ring.

Sulyvahn wants to keep you as you are, weak and at his mercy.

Sulyvahn loves power.

He has twin blades and ridiculously powerful spells at his disposal.

By the time you meet him, he doesn't speak much.

He doesn't have to... his presence exudes an intimidating amount of power.

You're no doubt kept with him at the cathedral, surrounded by holy images and readings... yet held hostage by such an unholy and tainted being.

Can you even call Sulyvahn a man?

He's far from it... He's a monster...

A monster who keeps you as a little pet, under the guise of courting you.

No, every touch he gives is far from loving.

You're a trophy of his conquest, especially as a crossbreed.

His touches are rough, yanking you against his chest when not busy ruling.

Like a doll in the hands of a reckless child.

The very few words he says come out as mocking, all taunts about your siblings.

How's it feel, draconic offspring?

How's it feel to know your brother is being devoured alive?

How's it feel to know your sister is being locked up all alone without you?

If anything, aren't you the luckiest of them?

You get to be with your new ruler.

Through marriage, you'll be his cute little pet.

The time of your family has ended.

It ended long ago.

Sulyvahn uses the fate of your family to taunt you into submission.

He enjoys seeing you shrink away.

You can't go anywhere and you know it.

You'd need the Pontiff's permission...

He'd never do that.

No, to Sulyvahn you belong beside him.

You're his to adore, his to coo at while he mocks you.

His cute little crossbreed to toy with.

Bringing a God to their knees, it's the ultimate power play to him.

You're adorable to him....

It's euphoric to see your fear when you see all the people that used to roam the city become monsters due to that dreaded false flame.

While everyone suffers, Sulyvahn insists on holding you close.

He claims as his spouse... his partner... he'll give you anything but freedom.

He has the power to demand.

Anything he wants, he gets.

He's already caused worse fates than just bloodshed.

If he wants to spoil you for your good behavior, he'll find a way.

Your life may not be the same as your siblings... but it's your own personal hell...

Especially since you're forced to play spouse to the monster who exploited this mess.

You're forced to be the imprisoned cross breed stuck in a cathedral...

Stuck as the pretty spouse for the Pontiff tyrant... the very same one who's holding your siblings captive to earn the obedience of you and the entire city.

[no-gram]

ACT1 No Longer Human

There are two creatures in the box yard.

Humans and aliens who cannot imitate humans.

They must live humbly as shadows and losers, accepting their own misery and badness, and be thankful that they are not being looked down upon by humans. They are weak bodies that even cotton can hurt.

I think it is strange that there are aliens on earth. I even think aliens deserve to be eliminated.

However, as a human being, I have to protect stupid creatures.

But why are there aliens in this box garden?

Didn't the alien's parents think it was strange? There is a saying that the right person is in the right place.

Forcing them to imitate human beings is not very nice, but it's ridiculous.

To be alive is a terrible thing. Chains are tangled everywhere, and if you move an inch, blood spurts out.

And yet they go to the trouble of tying themselves up. Why don't they just go back to their own planet?

I felt the same way about you.

I wondered why you are here, if you can't imitate humans.

The encounter was simple. You are an alien, and yet here you are.

That's disgusting. I thought, “You can't even imitate a human being.

But you were worth it.

Just having you next to me made people see me as a good person. You were a trophy.

I thought so.

But one thing has gone wrong.

Maybe you and the humans thought I was an all-powerful god.

Humans would have thought I could take care of the aliens, and you forgot to thank me.

Next, something went wrong again.

You gradually took on human form. And you forgot your position.

Come to think of it, you couldn't imitate humans, yet you were very particular.

In fact, you couldn't hide your obsession because you couldn't imitate humans, could you?

You are a poor alien.

”I have an idea.”

You are an alien, so what are you doing here?

The humans in this box yard used to look at you with pity. Now they are treating you like a god?

You were surrounded by humans, smiling with a grin and a creepy look on your face.

Once I tried to correct the first difference.

”You are arrogant, are you happy to take advantage of me?”

”I'm sorry.”

I wasn't sure if you felt bad, but okay. That's just the way it was.

You are good, you have talent.

It's not fair, you are not human, so you are recognized by many people just because you can draw a little.

But it would be strange if you weren't recognized.

That's how beautiful you were as you painted in the sting of the setting sun.

I can't stand your arrogance any longer, you'll see. You cannot live without me. You'll regret it, I'm sure.

The world will not forgive.

“It's not the world. “It's not the world, it's you who won't forgive me.”

If you do that, the world will punish you.

“It's not the world. It's you, isn't it?

The world will bury you now.

“It's not the world. You're the one who buried xxx.

”You are arrogant, are you happy to take advantage of me?”

”I'm sorry.”

“Aliens.”

We may think we are the best of friends, but we don't understand each other, we may see each other in the wrong light, we may think we are best friends, and when the other person dies, we may cry and read condolences.

No, I don't even recognize the other person's voice anymore.

I have lived a lifetime of shame. I have no idea what human life is like for me now.

Human, disqualified. I am no longer fully human.

No, no, it was aliens.

My phone ran out of charge.