#even when things seem bleak or when things seem to have abandoned you

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Betcha can’t guess when I started crying during the new doctor who episode….

Okay yeah you guessed it it was when Ruby started talking about hope

“And I think, at the end, I have hope. Because that’s very you, isn’t it, old friend? I dare to hope.”

I was tearing up beforehand when old Ruby first was shown but then that just broke the damn.

Also like old Ruby being the woman the whole time and just the paradox that she is it’s so interesting. I didn’t think I was gonna like an episode without the doctor in it cause of how little episodes we’re getting to begin with but I did really like the episode. I wish we knew what it was the Woman/old Ruby was saying to everyone though

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any. 

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help. 

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts. 

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job. 

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness. 

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with. 

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.” 

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes. 

That answer had changed her entire existence. 

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay. 

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound. 

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester. 

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of. 

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry. 

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit. 

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night. 

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.” 

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.” 

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.” 

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.” 

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.” 

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.” 

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different. 

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.” 

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?” 

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?” 

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.” 

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.” 

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.” 

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.” 

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.” 

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.” 

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do. 

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times. 

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then? 

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign. 

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).” 

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it. 

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before. 

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more. 

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue. 

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.” 

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”  

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.” 

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?” 

“I just needed to relieve some stress.” 

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.” 

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?” 

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.” 

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?” 

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.” 

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.” 

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.” 

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted. 

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.” 

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.” 

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?” 

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.” 

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.” 

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?” 

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.” 

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.” 

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right. 

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.” 

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).” 

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.” 

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?” 

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.” 

“Show me then.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.” 

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth. 

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.” 

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?” 

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.” 

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body. 

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.  

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm. 

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could. 

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.” 

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.” 

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.” 

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.” 

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit. 

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.” 

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her. 

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers. 

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.” 

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?” 

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.” 

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.” 

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes. 

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.” 

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.” 

“No fighting?” 

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.” 

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.” 

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

[luneair]

:: Chiron and your pain :: part one

- part two will be Gifts of Chiron -

These are not all applicable, just some examples that you may experience. Aries: Aggressive home life, feeling lonely like all you have is yourself, hard to control or understand your anger, life is seen as something to “survive” as oppose to “living.” Deemed an outcast, which may cause identity and self esteem issues. Sees everything as a threat, very distrustful of others. Others may perceive you as moody and childish. Physical and mental energy can be low, so the approach towards passion doesn't feel worth fighting for.

Taurus: Money struggles were constant throughout life. You have a sense of not being appreciated, you also experience situations where you’ve worked so hard but the outcome is close to nothing. Envy over others who can afford nice things. Unsure of what is important to you, distorted sense of morals and even your physical body. There were people in your life who have taken things from you, or made you feel as though you don't deserve anything. Difficulty seeing the “beauty” in life.

Gemini: Ideas are shot down by others, may experience a pattern of being interrupted when speaking. Can feel as though they are not smart enough. A very high strung demeanor. You may easily feel overwhelmed and anxious. Sometimes you limit yourself by having these excellent ideas, but you just can't seem to put it all together. Poor communication skills. It might have been hard to make meaningful relationships. Others may have perceived you as superficial. You were often not taken seriously by others.

Cancer: Early home life did not feel safe enough. In other cases, the home life simply fell empty, and it could have been perceived as abandonment despite parents/guardians being physically present. Poor emotional regulation, causing a disconnect from intuition. Possessed with the instinct to hide away and become avoidant, people may see this as immature. At risk for acquiring a dependent personality. Can be put in situations where they have to put others first and neglect their own needs.

Leo: The desire to feel special always feels far away. Didn't really get to "have fun" early on, causing a rigid and bleak view of life. There was a lack of inspirational figures in your life. Tendency to doubt yourself and crumble your self esteem. You might find "joy" in the wrong places, for the wrong reasons. Creativity is difficult to manifest. Other's could have made you feel unworthy. You may catch the habit of comparing yourselves with others.

Virgo: Uncertainty has always felt like an enemy personified. Lack of structure causes a muddled mind. In other cases, structure is present, but guardians are not,causing a lack of emotional building. This makes emotions and healing abilities feel foreign. There's a possibility of unhealthy habits appearing. Judgmental towards others and yourself. Can have excellent skills and ideas, but mental stress makes it difficult to articulate. There is a lack of self care, you don’t see yourself as someone who deserves care.

Libra: The identity is unclear, because you're not true to yourself. Identity can also be uncertain due to reflecting other people's temperaments and habits. Can feel like life is always "unfair." At risk of falling into dependency in relationships. Prone to envy. Opinions are vague, so you can be indecisive. Chronic sense of loneliness fuels a desire to be connected. There was vague sense of not feeling important; unlovable. It is often that this position causes a pattern of hurt in relationships.

Scorpio: Life has given you the role of a scapegoat. You find it difficult to trust anyone, even yourself. Craves stability, but circumstances in life prevents a sense of security and safety. This position is often victim to gas-lighting. Lies were common to escape closeness, or simply out of denial. People in your life may have made you feel powerless. At times, you fear the extent of your emotions, as emotional pain feels unbearable. May have lost things important to you throughout life.

Sagittarius: Your world feels cramped, suffocating. A yearning for something "more." Apt to seek a special purpose to base your life on. With no purpose, you feel you're just drifting through life. You probably weren't allowed to be care-free or free-spirited, causing a very cynical perception. In other cases, prominent life events lacked any stability and chaos follows you everywhere. Other people may perceive you as someone who is foolish, and unknowledgeable.

Capricorn: It's as though the world was thrown on your shoulders from the beginning. There is a pressure to succeed, but not always within the context of career or standing. Avoidance of flaws when they are inherit is soul crushing, apt to feel on edge under a collected face. In other cases, there’s a coldness you reflect from how prominent figures in the life treated you. People may have perceived you as “lazy” even when you’ve tried your hardest. Can be untrusting of things that seem to “come easy.” You’re not familiar with being rewarded. There is nothing people can say about what you lack, that you have not told yourself already.

Aquarius: A see-saw sense of feeling trapped in, or feeling outcasted. Relationships are difficult to keep. People often belittled your beliefs and opinions. It was common for you to be left out of groups for being “different” in some way. You’re intellect is questioned and you were made to feel like you weren’t “bright.” Sometimes you stayed in a friendship circle despite not being treated like a friend, all you ever wanted was genuine loyalty. Life always seemed disorderly, causing an anxious temperament. On the other hand, life may have felt uneventful, causing a more restless temperament.

Pisces: Disconnection. This is the state you’re familiar with. A very wishful person. The fantasy in your mind was an escape from the unfortunate and mundane parts of life. Can feel out of place, for example, feeling an “adoption” kind of complex in your own blood family. Pessimism can plague you, as events in the life have felt doom and gloom. Times you were hopeful we’re often shot down. You feel whatever forces at hand (god, fate, universe etc.) are actively against you. There is almost an expectation of disappointment, and a feeling of being “unlucky.”

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

[moonstruckme]

poly!marauders meets apocalypse? maybe some kind of trope where they got separated from the reader at the beginning of it all and while they knew all the spots they were likely to meet up at they just kept missing each other, times being off and such! + like after some time them finally find their way back together

Thanks for requesting my love! Idk how the first war went (fake fan!) but I imagine this “apocalypse” as during that time, something like the wizarding world in the Deathly Hallows after the death eaters take the ministry? I hope this is alright <3

apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

It’s getting dark, and you know that you can’t sleep here but you probably will anyway. 

The cave isn’t a very comfortable place to spend the night, nor does it allow much room for hiding. If some troop of death eaters manages to track you here, you’ll be cornered, but you’ve long since gotten over the fear of being found. That panic lives in your bones now. It’s like your heartbeat, so inseparable from you that you don’t even notice it most the time. 

And honestly, if they want to find you here, let them. You’ve got nowhere else to go. 

This is the last place you could think of that the boys might come looking for you, the last place that hasn’t been found and desecrated and reduced to searing rubble. James told you once that they used to slip away during trips to Hogsmeade and explore these caves when they were younger. There are dozens of them, but he talked about one, the biggest, at the top of the hill, that they’d made their favorite hideout. You hope he remembers telling you as clearly as you remember hearing it. If they don’t find you here, you’ll have to face the question of whether you know your boyfriends as well as you think you do. Or whether you still have boyfriends to know. 

The view from their cave would normally be spectacular, Hogsmeade all lit up and surrounded by woodlands, but knowing that only makes what you’re actually looking down at seem worse. The usually quaint and lively town is abandoned. You can’t detect any movements in the streets and not a single lamppost is lit. What had been such a beacon of joy and fun during your time at Hogwarts, a place tied to some of your best memories—saving money when you were little for sweets at Honeydukes, getting butterbeer with your friends at the Three Broomsticks, watching performers in the square—has been reduced to this ghost town, dark and lonely and vacant but for the poor souls too frightened to leave their homes. 

Even as bleak as the town appears, your stomach grumbles looking down at it. Luckily, you’ve been able to utilize your skill with the obliviate charm to steal from muggle corner stores without anyone noticing, but though you leave the memories of the clerks largely intact, you still feel awful about it. No matter what food you smuggle away, guilt turns it bland and unappetizing in your mouth, and you haven’t tried to find a meal in a couple of days. Remus is good with illusions, if he were with you he could make money out of leaves and walk out of restaurants without having to tamper with the muggles themselves. Or if James still has the invisibility cloak, you could be using it to get all kinds of things without raising any suspicion. 

An owl hoots in the trees below you, and your head snaps up out of some hopeful instinct. But no, no one is sending you letters here. You’re not even sure if owls are allowed anymore, or if there’s anyone left who would write to you. You wish desperately that Remus was here to tell you you’re being silly, that Voldemort’s followers couldn’t possibly have squashed every ounce of rebellion in just a couple weeks, or Sirius to make fun of the robes the death eaters wear like third years in their rebellious goth phase, or James to hug you and promise, however emptily, that it’ll all be alright in the end. 

But as much as you miss the boys, you’re glad they have each other. At least, last you saw them they did. 

There’s a shuffling of rocks outside, and you flinch away from the mouth of the cave. It could be an animal, or the wind, but you can’t chance it. You move as quietly as you can to the darkness in the back, pressing yourself against a wall and doing your best to sink into the shadows as you slip your wand free of your shirtsleeve. You’ve got an expelliarmus on your tongue, hoping desperately that will be enough and too cautious to hope for anything more, when the first dark figure climbs into the entrance of the cave. 

“Merlin,” a male voice says, shrugging a pack off onto the floor, “it used to feel a bit bigger, don’t you think?”

A choked sob gives away your location, but it hardly matters, because in the next instant you’re racing towards the figure, shoes slipping clumsily on the damp ground. He curses, scrambling for his wand, but then you’re on him, and it’s all he can do to stay upright as your arms go around his neck. 

He recognizes you then, gasping your name just as the other two boys make their way up to the landing. They’re mere silhouettes against the twilight outside, but even through your tear-blurred vision you’d know them anywhere. You make a high-pitched keening sound, and Sirius and Remus both rush to you, smushing you and James between them. 

You can’t stop crying, splintered, gasping sobs like a child that doesn’t know how to live in the world on its own. You know James is weeping too from the wetness seeping into the collar of your shirt, and you think it’s Sirius’ hand that’s fisted in the back of your coat, but it really doesn’t matter. They’re here. They’re all here. 

“I didn’t think you’d come here,” Remus says, voice ragged. 

You laugh, and it’s a rough, awful sound, rusty from weeks of disuse. “I wasn’t sure you would either.” 

“Fuck, baby.” Sirius adjusts his grip on you, trying to pull you closer though you’re already pressed against him. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You take a breath, steadying yourself as you step back where you can see them. They all look a little worse for wear, but that’s expected. James is rubbing underneath his glasses, teartracks cutting through what looks like soot on his face. Sirius too is dirtier than he ever would’ve allowed just a couple weeks ago, but he doesn’t seem like he’s lost any weight. And the scars you can see Remus, you conclude after some inspection, are the same ones you’ve been getting to know for years. They all seem okay. However they did it, they’ve managed to stay safe. 

“I’ve been everywhere,” you say finally. “I went to the shack first, but there were death eaters there.” 

James brow furrows, and he sniffles. “There weren’t any around when we went. When did you check there?”

“The day after it happened.” 

“We were there just that morning.” 

You sit down on the cold earth, careless of the dampness seeping into your pants. “I wanted to go sooner, but I couldn’t get away from my neighborhood. They were everywhere.” 

Sirius takes a blanket out of the pack James had discarded, laying it out on the floor of the cave and motioning for you to come sit beside him on it. 

“Did you try Godric’s Hallow?” Remus asks, spreading another blanket for himself and James across from you. “We hung around there for days.”

“Yeah,” you say. Remus sets a hand on your knee as he sits in front of you, James seating himself across from Sirius. “I went there straight after the shack, didn’t leave until the next night.” 

“You’re joking.” Sirius looks at you, devastation written across his features. “We got there three days after we got separated from you. We had to have been there at the same time.” 

You let out a short, stilted laugh, laying your head on Sirius’ shoulder as a fresh wave of tears obscures your vision. “We must’ve just missed each other.” Sirius wraps an arm around your shoulder, resting his head atop yours. “Wonder how many times that happened,” you say bitterly. 

“It doesn’t matter now.” Remus' tone is firm, but his knee bumps into yours consolingly. “We’re together, and…and we’re not going to get separated again. I won’t let it happen.” 

“But I think we should pick a more definitive meeting spot,” Sirius says with forced lightness. “Just to be sure, you know?”

James actually laughs, and the familiar sound lifts the mood in the cave slightly. 

“Probably,” you agree. “Hey, you guys don't have any food on hand, do you?”

“Merlin, is that rumbling your stomach?” Sirius asks. “I was thinking the roof of this place was about to come down.” He nudges you playfully, and you lean more of your weight onto him in response. He’s laying it on a bit thick in an attempt to try and brighten the atmosphere in your little cave, but you love him for it. 

“We’ve got food,” James says, already digging through the pack. “Sandwich okay?”

As ridiculous as it would’ve sounded to you a month ago, the idea of a full sandwich, with bread and everything, makes your mouth water. “More than okay.” You take it from him, all but moaning as you chew your first bite. “Fuck, this is so luxurious.” 

“If you think that’s luxurious,” James says enticingly, “wait until you see the grade-a sleeping pads we picked up. It’s a good thing we found you before you had to sleep in here, angel, because this is about to be a major improvement.” 

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. This is already a major improvement.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

𝔗𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔅𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔭𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢. 𝔖𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 🥀

...

(this is prob the most girliest thing i drawn so far. but i always had an inkling for classic fairy tales set ups. less for the story itself, more for the aesthetics. an’ i’m also weak for armour an’ knights / medieval related stuff on main. everything during that era looked so pretty, even if it wasn’t super practical. 

i was thinking about various arts / figures, that depict bruce dressed in actual knight's armor, an’ thought about his an’ crane’s situation in arkhamverse. comparison between a pretty princess, who needs a savior cannot be further away from who jonathan is, but at the same time, there are some interesting lil parallels to such stories an’ his narrative. as jon’s mantra in arkhamverse was literally related to this. ‘no more savior. no more hope. no more batman.’ he wasn’t even secretive about it or anything. all those 3 things are intertwined an’ related inside his mind. all of those things make an outline of who the bat was for him. 

i thought about the time, jon had crawled out from the sewers. mangled an’ shocked, an’ in pain. the anger came after. at first, there was a need to do basic things first. to treat the wounds. he’s bleeding pretty badly an’ his leg hurts. his face….i imagine, that it wasn’t pleasant to see in the mirror what became of it. those days are probably hazy for him. he mostly sleeps an’ tends to his re-opening injuries. then, once his mind is clear enough an’ pain is numbers down by meds, he thinks about what happened. how it happened. an' at this point, comes a disbelief that the bat just…let this happen to him. that he just left him to die an’ drown. that he did nothing to prevent this from happening.

crane would doubt this at first. maybe, he just remembers it wrong? but he looks at himself, feeling how he can barely move his leg, how his face is barely a face anymore. an’ no, there is no doubt. the bat had turned away from him, refusing to save him *that’s how he imagines it was, at least* jonathan never realized how much he idealized the bat, how much he relied on him coming to his rescue. with rage, enters a brief grief too. that’s the end of the line, bc if the bat won’t deem him worthy of saving, if he won’t save him anymore, won’t bring jon even a sliver of hope, then he should no longer be batman at all. 

this was basically the concept behind the first art. an encapsulated moment of jon’s hope breaking for the last time. things as intense as they are bleak. the plan is being formed. their mutual un-happy ending creeps near. but in that moment, it's just kinda painful. being abandoned by the only person, who seemed to care enough to at least not let him die.

the second art is more heavily connected with the song itself. in a way, this is an AU concept of them being the prince, who is also a dark knight in secret an’ the lonely, wicked alchemist. the main idea is the same as their story in arkhamverse. jonathan gets to know the knight an’ becomes somewhat dependent on their ‘shared roles’, feeling betrayed an’ scornful, when the knight fails to save him from uh. a dragon. so he returns with a scheme to destroy his once savior, in the end finding out that his failed knight was prince all along. i suppose, the only big difference in this AU be that jon’s ft needle glove is similar to needle in sleeping beauty story, an’ once you get a ‘taste’ of it, you fell into nightmares, but like, literally fall asleep. it’s pretty much similar to what happened to him in the actual arkhamverse as he appeared to be borderline unfunctional in the end. 

but since in this AU they have a bit more time to themselves vs just plot, plot, plot. bruce actually has a chance to grasp jon’s emotions a tad better. having a more clear idea why he was so viciously upset with him. it won’t fix anything, knowing the reason when it’s too late. nothing can be undone with a kiss here. bruce was revealed as brooding prince, who took the persona of mysterious knight an’ jon is in a kind of slumber, that prob cannot be broken.

no happy ending here, either. but it’s a bit softer in nature. as there are just two of them in the ivory tower. the dawn comes, but doesn’t manage to bring any comfort nor break the spell.

at first, i drawn bruce’s mask similar to what a knight’s helmet might look like, but i thought that i actually like it more, when it’s unclear if he’s in the mask or not. when it's hard to tell who he is in the moment, when he looks down at jon. the fallen knight or broken prince. i also like how in arkham knight jonathan saw maskless bruce in his batman attire still, so it's a bit of a call back to this too.

like, this is one version of what happening there. i suppose, this also can be some sort of fever dream, that either *or both of them* have. in the end, it’s free for interpretations. i just wanted to draw smth kinda 'poetic', even if sad for them. i do appreciate all the gloom misery in arkhamverse, but i also like more sappy-ish an’ beautiful things too. esp bc with villains like crane or mysterio, it feels kinda wrong to not use tropes, that they might be familiar with via books / movies. an' that they hiliriously enough often fits into, despite being bitter, twisted middle aged men.

aaaan' that’s about it. 2 takes on arkhamverse canonical events. one is more grounded, the other one is flew off the rails lol. regardless, i actually really like these 2 drawings! i was messing around with colors, trying to use the shades an’ tones, that i usually avoiding. at some point, both of arts were greenish, but it was just such a wrong mood. an' i guess, otp holding each other in their arms is like one of my fav poses ever. it's just so precious to me.)

[shizunitis]

Luo Binghe & Tianlang-Jun: Origins. And a Bit of Projection.

Disclaimer: This is basically just a collection of quotes from The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Volume 3, accompanied by (adjective) thoughts, and then even more relevant quotes listed at the end. If I could, I’d paste the entirety of Chapter 18.

“As expected, I can’t bring myself to hate humans.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 21: Always Together

I will always be conflicted on the topic of Tianlang-jun, and it annoys me. There is so much I could say about him, and so little I can successfully articulate. He is, to me, more confounding, complex and tragic than Shen Jiu.

He’s pitiful and awe-inspiring, wicked and affable, cunning and wide-eyed in his curiousity. He is a compelling, heartbreaking character. He alternates between emotionless wisdom and mournful apathy. I admire how his knees don’t buckle under the weight of his grief, but how he crumbles at the barest hint of hope. How rage claws at him and, still, he can’t figure out how to make it stick.

I empathise with him. I understand him.

But then, in the distance, Luo Binghe's indifferent voice disturbs the silence, causing me to drop my drink onto the floor and this post onto your screen:

“He’s not my father.”

It’s an interesting exercise, exploring their relationship in reconciliation fics. To see them interact (semi-)honestly, watch them take turns filling up the chasm between them. It’s wonderful. Every fic I’ve read centred around them was a delightful read that I still think about.

However. I cannot see Tianlang-Jun, as I understand him, as Luo Binghe’s father. And not just because of the 3rd Novel’s events.

But because Binghe had hoped for something; he did have that wide-eyed wonder. He did hold one last window open, for the sake of an improbability he couldn’t quite, just yet, dismiss.

It’s what (most) orphaned and/or adopted childred do.

Though Luo Binghe had never said a word about it before, Shen Qingqiu knew that he harbored some fantasies about his birth parents. […] In fact, he’d always secretly fantasized about whether his parents might still be alive, and how well they’d treat him, and how they’d never let him suffer the mildest slight. — Vol. 3, Chapter 17: Tianlang

It is the most human thing; to want to be helped, accepted, invited by those given to you. A family is given to you. Whether you believe it an act of the divine, of nature, of coincidence, it isn’t something you fight for. It’s the first and, arguably, only thing you don’t have to fight for in life.

Depending on a multitude of factors, that can be a blessing or a curse; but where there is room for interpretation, questions left unanswered, most childred—Binghe included—will turn to their imagination, and try to make sense of it. Usually, to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves that surely, if their family could, they would have.

And, yeah. Most likely, if the Palace Master had gotten punted into the Sun like he fucking deserved, they would have. But does it matter?

In the face of a bleak reality, what comfort is a could-have-been?

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. […] Luo Binghe was in fact…someone who was unloved by even his own parents. — Vol. 3, Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

What use are good intentions to an abandoned child? What consolation is it, to say, They gave birth to you, when that child has seen no evidence of their care? Does it dry their tears, that their mother can’t be here, but she surely would have wished to be? That their father would protect them, if only he knew of them?

(And don’t make me tell you about the visceral horror I felt reading the Origins chapter. I’ve yet to make my peace with it. MXTX, Airplane, whoever: you’ve ruined me.)

The washerwoman was and continues to be, to Binghe, his only mother. And I would argue, that’s healthy. Even independent of his other traumas (Abyss, Shizun’s betrayal, Xin Mo’s influence, living on the streets, etc, holy shit Binghe) Luo Binghe will not accept anyone else as his mother.

“Who is this Su Xiyan?” Luo Binghe asked coldly. “My mother was a mere washerwoman.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 18: Origins.

It may seem callous. It probably even is! But it is a healthy line he’d drawn by his own initiative. It’s what helps him, what he feels he needs to do in order to do right by his mother, and his own heart.

And! Tianlang-Jun doesn’t seem to give much of a shit, either!

Won’t, probably, even in the future, once the dust will have settled. He is exhausted, weary with carrying the corpse of his love, the loss of his nephew. Whatever goodwill he shows, it’s a perfunctory sort, because he can’t afford more.

So. Uhh.

Tianlang-Jun is not a character I can love, nor one I can hate. Usually, I can’t help but be inclined to love complex characters. Like them, too—though that’s more of an action-based thing rather than just said character’s personality.

But with Tianlang-Jun, I’m stuck whichever way I turn. If I want to love/like him, I’m drawn back by Binghe’s pain and disappointment. If I try to hate/dislike him, I’m drawn back by his own history and grief.

In conclusion:

I don't know! I'm not really trying to, like, prove anything. I still love the aforementioned TLJ & LBH fics, I still love their dynamic. I started walking and ended up exactly in the same space. This, perhaps, could be considered a Heavenly Demon Family Mobius Strip!

I'm not really trying to say anything. It just… makes me feel conflicted, and angry, and whenever I allow myself to think about it a bit more, sad.

But.

However!

Alas.

Nonetheless, even.

As a reader and—on my better days—a writer, all I can say is:

As promised/threatened: some selected passages, for your reading pleasure:

So, it looked like neither the father nor the cousin had any intention of acknowledging Luo Binghe. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

Tianlang-Jun lifted his hand, took a look at Luo Binghe’s snow-pale face, and commented indifferently, “He looks like his mother.” “His eyes look like yours,” came a chill voice from the side. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

The faint hopes and dreams Luo Binghe had held in his heart for many years had been mercilessly pulverized into so much dust. […] [Tianlang-Jun] refused to speak a single word of their relationship and had been utterly ruthless back in the Holy Mausoleum. […] To his parents, Luo Binghe was an unwanted child. — Chapter 18: Origins

“If he was my father, why didn’t he bring it up earlier? Why not tell me?” The most Tianlang-Jun had said was that single line he offered while beating up Luo Binghe, devoid of either praise or criticism: “He looks like his mother.” He looks like his mother. What of it? But that was all. There was nothing more. — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe was indifferent. “He’s not my father.” […] Luo Binghe shook his head. It was unclear what he was stubbornly clinging to, but he repeated, “He’s not my father.” — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe raised his smiling face, his eyes shining brightly. “Mother was the kindest person in all the world to me.” — Chapter 19: Shen Jiu

[thecursedanon]

Rainy Day

Characters: Lee!Yuji, Ler!Nanami, Sukuna(only in Yuji's head), Megumi, Nobara, Inumaki (because I love this little dork, okay? lol) Genre: Comfort <3 Word Count: 3166 Summary: Yuji Is super down today, that and he's not been sleeping well due to the nightmares he's been having. His friends, concerned about him go to Nanami with their concerns, and the stoic teacher takes it upon himself to cheer Itadori up. A/N: Hey, Curse here! This was originally intended to be part of the Amusement Park Aftermath fic, but I couldn't organically fit it in so I split them up... so that's why there are similarities in the setting. Enjoy!

Though the mood had been upbeat and calm in the days before, today it seemed as though a rain cloud loomed over Jujutsu Tech-- both figuratively and literally. Everyone seemed a bit more somber today.

Even Yuji wasn’t immune to the effects as he gazed out his window at the bleak gray sky, winds whipping the trees around and causing the leaves to drift around with reckless abandon.

He sighed softly, leaning over and resting his face on his palms as he watched the gloominess outside from the edge of his bed.

He heard his door open, but didn’t turn around or acknowledge it. Nobara and Megumi had been peeking in on him periodically to make sure he was still alive, clearly unused to the pink haired teen being a recluse.

“He’s still moping.” Megumi sighed.

“Should we go get Gojo sensei?” Nobara asked.

“We want to cheer him up, not make him worse.”

“I dunno, he seems pretty good at this kind of thing...”

Inumaki poked his head into the room with them, signing as he spoke. “Bonito flakes…” Megumi is right… “Mustard Leaf.” Gojo would just overwhelm him more.

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

Inumaki paused, the blonde tapped his chin as he became deep in thought. Nobara shot Megumi a look that screamed; ‘this is who we’re taking ideas from?’ as she gestured to the other teen.

“Tuna mayo?” Maybe Nanami can help?

“If Gojo can’t help, what makes you think Nanami sensei can?”

“He’s right.” Megumi nodded in agreement with Toge’s idea. “Nanami is our best bet. If something serious is going on, Yuji might be more comfortable talking to Nanami about it.”

Inumaki nodded his head, looking quite pleased with himself as Nobara sighed. “Fine, let’s go find him…” With that, the trio headed to Nanami’s classroom and explained the worrying situation to him.

“That explains why he hasn’t been blowing my phone up this morning…” He sighed softly. Yuji had a bad habit of spamming his phone with an overabundance of positive texts, or any and all memes he found that he thought were funny… most of the time they weren’t.

“I’ll go talk to him,” He nodded, standing up from his desk. “Thank you for coming to me.”

Back In Yuji’s room, he had actually started to doze off watching the rain fall down his window when there was a knock at his door. He sighed, trying to ignore their efforts.

There was another knock, this one softer and a bit more hesitant than the first. 

“Guys, I’m not dead in here. you can stop checking on me.” He called out, half asleep.

“Itadori?”

Yuji perked up at the sound of the voice. “Nanamin?”

“Is it alright if I come in?”

The pinkette nodded, but realized he couldn’t see him. “Yeah, you can come in.” he responded, turning around to look at the door.

Nanami walked in and closed the door behind him, assessing Yuji carefully for any signs of distress. “I haven’t heard from you In a while… I wanted to check in on you.” He said, his voice softer than usual.

Itadori smiled a little, and when he did, Nanami could see just how exhausted the teen looked. “Yeah, sorry… I haven’t been on my phone.”

That in and of itself was alarming.

The blonde teacher approached him cautiously. “Yuji, you look like you haven’t been sleeping.” He observed out loud. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Itadori brushed off his concern, trying to shake off the fatigue. “Just didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Watching too many Jennifer Lawrence movies, again?” There was a note of teasing on his words as he spoke to the pink haired boy. (Okay, more than a note.)

Yuji felt his face heat up. “Noooo…” He subtly nudged his chair to conceal a stack of Jennifer Lawrence movies he had in fact been watching the night before. 

Nanami, of course, saw this. He let out a small chuckle as he idly picked up one of Itadori’s blankets from the floor, folding it as he spoke. “Yuji, if something is bothering you… you know you can talk to me, right?” He asked, glancing up at the teen as he neatly set it down on the bed. “Even if you think it’s something minor…”

Yuji bit his lip and looked back out the window. “Yeah… I know that…It’s just my thoughts are so scrambled right now… I don’t even know how to start talking about what’s bothering me...”

Nanami frowned, picking up another blanket and approaching the pinkette with it. He carefully draped it around him and sat down next to him. “I understand…”

A memory flickered to the forefront of his mind, he recalled saying something similar to his best friend when he was Yuji’s age. Haibara had responded by looking for the fluffiest, most comforting blanket he could find in their dorm room and damn near smothered Kento with it as he wrapped him up in it and hugged him tightly.  

It was times like this that he wished Yu had still been alive, he’d be much better at this sort of thing than he was… “I’m sorry.” Kento said softly, his hands firmly grasping his students shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Yuji looked at the window, the rain and wind had kicked up even more outside. “Can I… have a hug?”

Nanami nodded, not hesitating to engulf him in a big protective hug at his request. “Of course you can.”

Yuji smiled, the warmth from the blanket and the warmth radiating from the tight hug was soothing to him. He wrapped his arms around Nanami in response, resting his head on his shoulder. 

As he sat there with him, the room silent save for the rain falling outside and the soft breathing, he felt his racing thoughts slowing down a bit… making more sense rather than being incoherent whispers speaking over each other.

But that soon became a problem too, as the reason for his anguish presented itself.

He was sad.

He was really fucking sad… He missed his grandpa. He was exhausted from trying to put on a brave front all the time, when the truth of the matter was; he was still just a scared, sad kid who missed the only family he had ever truly had...

As Nanami sat there holding the student, he felt him begin to tremble in his arms. “Itadori?” He asked softly, holding the teen tighter to try to silently reassure him he was okay.

“I’m… sorry…” Came the small, whimper of a reply. Small sobs escaped his shaking form as he buried his face in the blonde’s chest, his tears soaking into the blue fabric.

“Hey… don’t be sorry.” Kento responded, keeping his tone low and gentle in an attempt to soothe the boy. “It’s okay… shh… you’re okay.” He began rubbing circles into the pinkette’s back as he spoke. “I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere…”

If Yuji hadn’t have already been crying, he would have been now. He clung onto his mentor like a scared child as he sobbed harder.

It became clear to Nanami just how much pain the boy was in, his muffled cries sounding anguished and terrified. It absolutely broke his heart, he wasn’t sure how to take the pain away from the usually bright light hearted teen, and he desperately wanted to.

“I’m so tired of being scared, Nanami!” he cried into his chest.

“Yuji… It’s going to be okay, you have nothing to be afraid of here. I’ll protect you.” The usually stoic teacher whispered in response.

“But who will protect you?” Itadori whimpered, burrowing further into his protective hold. “I can’t lose you too!!”

“Yuji…” Nanami felt his heart twist at the student’s outburst, he wished more than anything he could say that he wouldn’t lose him, and that everything would be okay in the end… but he knew from his own experience that wasn’t the case. He knew how cruel this line of work was… it didn’t discriminate with the lives it claimed.

“I can’t lose you…!” The boy sobbed, his frame shaking like a leaf in the blonde teacher’s strong arms. “P-Please…!”

“Shhh… hey, listen to me okay? I have no intentions of going anywhere.” Kento whispered, gently rocking Itadori in his arms. “Why are you so worried about me? I haven’t died yet.”

“I…” Yuji pulled back, looking up at Nanami with tears falling down his face. That also broke his heart. “I-I’ve been having these nightmares… Where y-you… you…”

“Shhh…” Nanami reached forward and gently pulled the crying pinkette back into his warm embrace, stroking his hair gently as he guided his head to rest against his chest. “Yuji, they’re just bad dreams… do you hear that? My heart is still beating. I’m still here. You’re okay… I’ve got you.”

This seemed to soothe some of anguish the boy was feeling, his sobs becoming small whimpers as he began to calm down at the sound of Nanami’s heartbeat in his ear.

They sat there In silence together for a while, the only other sound in the room was the rain hitting Yuji’s window and his sniffles and whimpers.

But soon those would silence too, and Itadori would slowly pull away from Nanami again. His eyes were puffy from all the crying he’d done, and his face was tear stained. “N-Nanamin?”

“Yes?”

“Th-Thank you…”

The blonde smiled softly at him, gently wiping away some of the remaining tears from his face. “Of course…” 

Yuji giggled a bit as Kento grazed against his neck when wiping his tears away, causing the blonde to pause and give him a confused look. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Itadori said quickly, smiling nervously as his mentor stared at him.

Oh?

Nanami smirked, ghosting his fingers along Itadori’s neck, causing him to squeak and recoil with a giggle. “Nothing? Are you sure about that?”

“Nanami…”

“Itadori… you wouldn’t happen to be… ticklish, would you?”

“W-Well would you look at the time? I’m gonna be late for my training session with Gojo and-- ACK!”

“Oh no you don’t.” Kento grabbed onto the pinkette before he could escape, pulling him back into his arms and pinning him against him. “Even if you did have training with Gojo right now, which you don’t because he’s out of town… I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”

“Wh-What did I do?”

“I told you I’d protect you… that includes from yourself and your sadness.”

“But Nanamin… I’m not sad any--eeeeehehehehehe!” Yuji’s protests were interrupted by a squeal followed by adorably bubbly giggles as Nanami began to tickle him.

“Oh please, don’t insult my intelligence… I know you’re still sad, you’re just not crying anymore.” Nanami rolled his eyes fondly at the boy, squeezing at his side teasingly.

“Nahahahahanami! Ihihihit tickles!” Itadori whined, but despite his complaints he made no attempts to get away.

Nanami chuckled at his reactions, sneaking his hand underneath Yuji’s shirt to lightly tickle his bare side. “Does it now~? How unfortunate for you… because I have no intentions of stopping until you feel better~”

Yuji giggled harder as he leaned into Nanami’s hold. “Ihihihihi’m not sahahahahad anymore!”

“Itadori, It’s okay to be sad…” Nanami said soothingly, skittering his fingers up and down his ribs as he spoke. “It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you suffer through it alone.”

The most adorable thing about this whole thing? Yuji wasn’t resisting, he was actually angling himself in ways that would give Nanami more access to his ticklish spots… which he found utterly adorable.

“Itadori, you know… you could at least pretend to want to get away~” Kento chuckled in amusement at his student.

“I dohohoho want to get ahahaway!” Yuji lied… because If he really wanted to get away, he totally could.

“Oh, you do, hm? Is that why you’re rolling around like a puppy trying to get me to scratch its belly?” Nanami couldn’t help but tease the boy, his fingers drifting to Yuji’s stomach. “Is this what you were looking for~?”

Itadori squealed as he felt Nanami’s fingers lightly dance across his toned stomach, practically melting in his mentor's hold as he laughed harder. “EHEHEHEHEEK!”

It’s now coming to Itadori’s attention that he may… and I repeat; may be… enjoying this. (He is.) 

Sure, every once In a while he’ll get the occasional poke here and there, or Gojo will be… well, Gojo… and tickle the absolute snot out of him but… Nanami’s tickles are much more gentle and affectionate. It’s almost relaxing in a sense… plus he never knew his parents, and his grandfather wasn’t exactly the most physically affectionate so it’s kind of healing to his inner child right now to be tickled by someone he views as a father figure.

Also, he just really loves playing around with him like this… this isn’t a side anyone sees of Nanami.

Did I mention Yuji is an adorable ball of sunshine yet? because he totally is.

“Ah, that was definitely what you wanted…” Nanami teased, his fingers tracing teasingly along his stomach, producing the most adorable giggles he’s heard in a very long time.

“Nahahahahanamin! Nohohohoho! Nahahat the behehehelly!” Yuji squealed, covering his face as his half hearted protests fell on deaf ears.

“Not the belly? why not? It seems like as good a spot as any…” Nanami hummed thoughtfully, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Hmm… Nope, sorry. I think I’m going to stay right here for a bit longer, you’re a tough kid, you can take it.”

Yuji squealed again as his stomach was tickled with more vigor.

‘Seriously, brat? He’s not kidding… You really are like a dog who wants his stomach rubbed. The only thing you’re missing is the damn leg kick.’ Sukuna taunted Yuji internally.  

‘Suhuhuhukuna shuhuhuhut up!’ Poor Yuji couldn’t even escape the teasing in his mind.

‘You know you could easily get this to stop, don’t you? Just allow me control and--’

‘Absolutely nahahahat!’

‘Why not? Don’t tell me… you actually ENJOY this, do you?’

‘Ihihihim not gonna lehehehet you hurt him!’

‘How pathetic… you truly are an annoying brat.’

“Nahahahanamihihihi plehehehease!”

The blond relented his attack, allowing the pinkette to catch his breath. “Are you feeling any better yet?” He asked gently, keeping his unofficial son trapped in his grasp as he calmed down.

Yuji nodded, giggling a bit still. “Y-Yeah.. thanks dad.”

Oh fuck.

He didn’t just…

Nanami froze as he heard those words come out of Itadori’s mouth.

Itadori panicked inwardly, his distress making Sukuna chuckle in amusement in the back of his mind. “I-I mean… yeah, thanks dad.” He said much more sarcastically this time, hoping that Nanami would go for it.

He did not. 

“Yuji… did you just… call me dad?”

Yuji felt himself tear up, fearful that he just ruined the relationship he had with Nanami. “Y-Yeah, but I meant it in a joking way.”

Kento frowned, he knew by the way the boy’s voice quivered that he was lying. “Yuji…”

“I-I’m sorry.” Yuji shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to contain his emotions. “I-I didn’t mean to… I-It… It jus-- EEK!”

Yuji shrieked as Nanami resumed his ticklish attack, now holding the teen’s arms above his head and tickling under his arms.

“NAHAHAHAHANAMI?? AHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHYHYHYHYHY ARE YOU TICKLING MEHEHEHE??”

“Because you’re sad again.” Nanami answered simply.

“AHAHAHAHAREN’T YOU MAHAHAHAD AT MEHEHE??”

Nanami leaned down a bit so he could speak directly into Yuji’s ear. “Why would I be mad?” His voice was low and calm, as if he wasn’t completely annihilating Yuji with tickles right now.

“BEHEHEHECAUSE IHIHIHI CALLED YOU-- EeEeEeEeEEEEK!” Yuji shrieked as Nanami blew a raspberry against his neck, cutting him off. “NAHAHAHAHA!!”

“I seem to have missed the part where you did something to make me mad…” Nanami smiled a bit, his fingers not slowing their pace against Itadori’s ticklish armpit whatsoever.

“BUHUHUHUT IHIHI… IHIHI CALLED YOUHUHU DAHAHAD-- AIEEE!”

Itadori was interrupted by another raspberry against his neck. “And?”

“IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHORRYEEEEHEHEHEHE!” Yuji shrieked again as he dealt another massive raspberry against his neck. Before he could form semi coherent sentences again, Nanami laid him down on his back on his bed and pinned his arms down above his head.

“Yuji Itadori… If you apologize to me again, you’re going to regret it.” Nanami said sternly, though his green eyes sparkled as his gaze remained gentle on the teen. “My cursed technique isn’t just useful for inflicting pain…It can also be used to make ticklish troublemakers even more ticklish…”

Yuji took a moment to catch his breath, and tried to collect his thoughts before responding. “N-Nanamin… Why aren’t you mad at me…?”

“I told you, you haven’t said anything to upset me.”

“But… I called you… D-Dad… That doesn’t upset you?”

Nanami smiled. “No… It doesn’t.” He let go of Itadori’s arms, and just let him lay there instead.

Yuji frowned, tears quickly flooding his eyes as he looked away. “You can’t possibly mean that… you’re just trying to reassure me-EEEE--” the pinkette squealed and began cackling again as Nanami blew a raspberry on his stomach.

“New rule, every time you apologize for no reason or overthink, I’m going to tickle you.” Kento smirked, watching as the boy composed himself again.

“B-But…”

“Yuji… I’m not just trying to reassure you. I meant that.” Nanami’s voice was gentle as he spoke. “If calling me Dad makes you happy then… you can call me that any time you want.”

Itadori sat up slowly, his eyes still sparkly with tears. “Y-You… really don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” Kento reached forward and wiped Yuji’s tears. “I happen to care about you.”

Welp. That did it… again.

Yuji started sobbing again, leaning forward and burying his face in Nanami’s chest as he ugly cried

Kento pulled him into a comforting hug, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “Shh… It’s okay now… You’re safe.”

‘You truly are a pathetic creature, you know that?’

‘That may be… but at least I’M loved sooo… suck it.’

After a few more minutes Yuji began to calm down, and he pulled back from Nanami. “Thank you… I needed that.” He smiled, wiping his eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me for comforting you, you know…” Nanami mused. “I really don’t mind.”

“Heh… Yeah I guess you’re right… sorry-- EEHEHEHE!” Yuji shrieked as Nanami reached forward and tickled his stomach, after using ratio to make him even more ticklish, of course.

“You never learn, do you?” Nanami sighed, though his words may have come out as disappointed, the playful glimmer in his eyes betrayed him.

It seemed It was going to take some time for Yuji to learn not to be so apologetic and overthink so much, and Nanami was content to keep tickling him until he got that message through his skull… Yuji was also content to let it happen.

[lemonswoop]

Stray is one of my top 10 games of all time, so I decided to do a little replay to remind myself why I love it so much.

Full journal entry under the cut

Stray

Start date:8/18

End date: 8/27

Platform: Steam Deck

Hours played: 14

Rating: 5/5

On the day I finished Stray I sat back and said "I can feel this game is going to be very special to me." It's an odd game to be in my top 10 games of all time. I knew the simple concept of playing as a little cat (with me being a huge cat lover) would be an instant favorite, but I didn't expect that the message of the game would hit a particular soft spot in my heart.

What I thought would be a silly little cat sim set in a cyberpunk city turned out to be a twist on the classic dystopian future filled with hope, love and the beauty of the human spirit.

The game starts off with a cat falling into a walled slums of a domed society where humans have been dead for thousands of years. Our tiny cat protagonist meets the very last known human in existence, B12, a scientist whose consciousness gets uploaded into a tiny drone. Disease and plague ravaged the futuristic city, leaving nothing but memories and the robot companions programed to serve its lost inhabitants. But something special happened;

In the forsaken slums, gritty and filled with despair, hope thrived before the humans passed. When energy was capped, rebellion lit up the city with neon lights. When things seemed bleak, humans created art, tended to thriving plants, and hugged their loved ones tight. They went to bars to get sloppy drunk and laugh off the dark times with friends.

They Lived.

"Humans often said that making art is important in desperate situations. There are certainly desperate times."

Humans may have passed, but humanity lived on in the companion robots who gained sentience. The only models they had was what humanity had left behind for them. In the lowest levels of society is where the beautiful parts of humanity survived. The robot citizens didn't need to eat, wear clothes, love one another, but they did so because of the examples that were left for them. They fostered a community to protect one another all while dreaming of it all being better somehow.

The main goal of a small group was to open up the domed city, see the blue sky and go back to the long abandoned outside. It's what the humans would have wanted, and a place the robots have only ever heard about in stories.

One of my favorite aspects of the game is that while it reaches far beyond the scope of a little cat plot-wise, the cat represented a larger theme of hope for better still existing and it was time to start trying to reach it again. The cat inspired brave and bold actions in the robots, all resulting in finally reaching the top of the walled city. A sterile place where the rich and powerful operation controllers all lived; now gone. And in that city no culture, no art, no humanity survived. The robots were just robots, forever following the last directive they were given before humanity perished.; A pristine wasteland.

B12, the last human, sacrifices himself to take down the system and open the walled city to the bright blue sky. No longer did B12 feel the need to carry the weight of humanities past because they never left. They just belonged to a new society lovingly passed down. A future existed where our best qualities as a collective are what survived.

Sometimes I feel as if the beautiful message of this game gets overlooked, which is a shame when its a message I feel we all can use when the world at large feels bleak.

Nothing is ever wasted or in vain. The beauty of humanity is in what we leave behind. Even the small and whimsical things that only exist to bring us joy; they all matter.

Making music, art, reading, tending to a garden, hugging a loved one, holding onto hope... and yes, loving and finding companionship in a little cat.

"But I see a future in the companions, and in you."

[hezekiahwakely]

I would actually kill to hear your post 200 jmart messy divorce thoughts you alluded to in those tags

Woof OK let's get into it then

My foundational piece of thought for this comes from the fic it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies on ao3. That fic is basically the closest I consider canon to the 'jon and martin managed to survive somewhere else, with consequences' ending (if you're an 'optimist' like me and you choose to believe in that option :P) Their relationship in that fic has similar tones to the show-- the writing captures the feeling of TMA well--and the fic in general is very bleak and cathartic, clinging to the edge of a damaged relationship that's about to fall apart. So, I enjoyed this fic A Normal Amount and it's stuck with me ever since.

Now I don't actually have the brain cells or the energy levels to write the fics that're floating around in my head atm, but here are my scattered thoughts on the subject of jmart post-mag 200:

Basically, they can never truly come to terms over the final decision

(Jons desire to end the world's suffering, vs Martin's POV, the betrayal of their relationship and Jon's self hating suicidality)

At least, definitely not in the first few months when they're forced to live together bc they're stranded in this brave new world and have no one else.

Both fall back on negative habits. Jon starts smoking, withdrawing, becoming paranoid; obsessively searching for signs of the fears.

Not one person in the world understands what he's been through. What kind of sacrifice he made. And they don't know how much he failed them all.

And his body hurts. All of his wounds hurt. His head struggles to clear and the empty space in it seems so silent. He sometimes gets mentally lost without the eye to guide him.

He almost wishes they had died. He wishes he hadn't cut the tether. But hes so happy Martin is alive---even if he seems to hate him right now. That's ok, hes alive. Even if he can't smile at him anymore.

Jon craves any sort of comfort. But the only man who had ever wanted to give him that is now enormously angry with him and maybe rightly so. And besides, of course, he's so unworthy of comfort that it's shameful to even desire it. He deeply wishes he could stop wanting it, to stop feeling so disgusted with himself.

He feels disgusted with himself regardless. Helpless and hopeless and confused in this floundering relationship and so very guilty of the things hes done.

He's sinking deeply, deeply into self hatred and despair.

But he still lashes out at Martin occasionally bc he's a bastard

(And bc he deserves to a little bit, y'know? He's angry about a lot of things right now and he has a right to be! And some of those things might be bc Martin uhhhhhhhh. Did not always treat him with the most compassion, understanding, or patience during the apocalypse.)

NO I don't think their relationship in show is toxic or abusive. I think it's realistic that two people who love each other very much in terrible circumstances are going to fuck up. and them hurting each other makes for good drama. anyways

Martin also withdraws, becomes cold and passive aggressive. Assumes the caretaking role for Jon (again) and walls off his feelings

He just can't forgive Jon for leaving him like that. For betraying his trust. For abandoning him. For hurting him immeasurably deeply by forcing him to kill him

And he can't understand his reasoning for doing so, when he thought that there was a chance for them to get out and be ok, and it could have all been so easy, but Jon didn't seem willing to take it. He chose to die instead because of his guilt, and martin is so, so angry at him for that.

And now he's stuck. Again. Forced into caring for someone who has treated him badly, AGAIN.

And he has no one to talk to. No one outside of Jon to go to for comfort, and being around Jon hurts. He is increasingly alone. Again.

Martin's fine. Everything is fine. He doesn't want to talk about it. Would you like some tea? I.e., it's time to shut the fuck up, Jon.

His anger and resentment sometimes turn his tongue as sharp and cold as an icicle. In those moments of icy rage, Martin thinks his voice sounds like his mother's.

Except when he finally can't hold it in and he explodes at jon like a sadness volcano, because Jon can't even look him in the face anymore. And then he leaves to go cry alone in their bedroom

Eventually communication breaks down. Then I have a few fun ideas for what might happen

Jon has a full-on mental break. Becomes catatonic. He's paralyzed by the need to stay here for Martin... but he's also held in place by the webs he sees now tying around his whole timeline. He was never going to be able to stop what they had planned for him. None of his choices ultimately matter --so he stops doing or wanting anything. It will all be taken away from him eventually. Whatever's going to happen will happen regardless of what he does

At the same time, he is experiencing so much pain and so much guilt and self hatred and lack of love in their relationship that he's desperate to escape it. When he finds no relief from any quarter, he becomes extremely suicidal. The only two things holding him to life are 1. not leaving Martin alone, and 2. his hopeless resignation to the web.

Starts having severe panic attacks.

Has that PTSD 'avalanche' where, now that he's finally somewhere he can be relatively safe, everything that happened to him is hitting him all at once.

He's scared of everything. He's scared of what might happen to Martin. He's scared of himself. He's scared of Martin.

Then there's the vomiting, anorexia, agoraphobia, bodily neglect, other passive self harms, the whole nine yards. He's physically falling apart.

Jon has a very bad time.

And he's moved almost entirely beyond Martin's reach

Martin is suddenly forced to come to terms with the fact that Jon needs immediate, intensive medical help if he's going to survive

Fate turns slightly in their favor, and they find a good physical rehab doctor, a good psychiatrist, and a good therapist for both of them. Perhaps at this point they're separated, maybe just bc of a hospitalization, but they're attending counseling together.

In my happiest ending, Jon responds well to the meds and is able to start talking to someone about his overwhelming feelings. Martin is actually able to find therapeutic help for his trauma, finds other people to help him and Jon so it's not all on him anymore, and he starts getting more of the love and support he deserves from his boyfriend

they recommit themselves to the relationship and to making it work. slowly, they start healing.

While also beginning to rediscover all the reasons they loved each other in the first place :)

In a sadder ending, one of them dies ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Eventually both, if we're being honest. One would not last long without the other. Not with that kind of connection

Or perhaps they do separate. Maybe they keep in close touch, in which case I think it would lean more towards a happy ending. Orrrrrr they make a hard break of it. Maybe it's sudden, urgent, painful and messy. Maybe they dont see each other again for years.

Regardless of what they do, I don't think they could truly be apart forever. They would visit. Even if it hurt every time. They would want to see each other again.

Because they care about each other.

But maybe, in one timeline, they need some space to heal and rebuild their lives and themselves. Maybe when theyre ready, they'll try again.

I may continue this later with my other branching ideas possibly but I wanted to get this bit out while it was fresh and I was thinking about it. This line of thought continually haunts the back of my subconscious so I'm always happy to share it

[yanderes-galore]

Hello! First time requesting here!

I have this scenario for Underverse with Cross Sans/X-Tale Sans: Cross and female human darling have know each other since childhood. Well, they always meet each other when the overwrite happens as if they were meant to be together. But then, the incident happened. Cross lost his family and his universe. He also thought that his lost his best friend. But little he didn’t know, she was with Ink and Sans (she lost her memory) trying to stop him. And with the help of Nightmare, Cross was doing everything to get his home back and the human he started to love.

Here also some prompts:

34 and 40

Welcome! I'm not too far in Underverse but I fell in love with the concept after watching X-Tale... here you go! It's 12 AM and the brainrot struck!

Not fully proofread, there may be mistakes but I hope everything is enjoyable >:) This was fun!

Yandere! Cross Prompts 34 + 40

"No one else understands me except you!"

"Do you really remember nothing? It's me! Your partner!"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Angst, Kidnapping, Violence, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship, This is all just very sad :(.

Despite everything he's gone through... Cross still remembers a human that he held dear. Not Frisk/Chara when he was still just Sans... another human girl. A human girl he found himself adoring... even after every Overwrite.

Perhaps Chara knew about you... or maybe this fondness he's feeling is just Sans. Either way, Cross recalls the human girl, you, meeting him in every timeline in his universe. It was like fate drew you two together... which made him fall hopelessly in love.

But does love even matter if it's so easily torn away from him?

Even when his world became a white void, Cross still thought of you. Even when he fought with the two halves within him... he still thought of that human girl. The human girl he saw as a childhood friend when his world was bleak.

Cross was convinced you had perished when his universe essentially collapsed. He tried to find companionship in Ink, even mentioning you in conversation. Ink could tell Cross was fond of this girl... but tried to ease the pain with distractions.

Cross wanted nothing more than to persist. He wanted to have his own world, he wanted to be happy. More than anything... he wanted to be able to act on the feelings he had towards you.

Now all he has are memories.

Even when teamed with Nightmare Sans, Cross's thoughts still wandered. Even Chara seemed affected by the echoes of you. Perhaps both halves craved love they couldn't have.

All of this creating negative emotions for Nightmare to feast on.

When Cross eventually saw Ink again, he was annoyed that he kept tracking him. He somewhat expected Sans to be there too due to taking half of his soul to persist. But what he didn't expect... was you.

Cross was stunned when he saw you with the other two. At first he tried to tell himself you were just a copy. You may even be a copy.

But did he really care?

It was you.

You really were another part of his dying universe. You looked so clueless... even more so when you saw him. It was like you didn't remember him...

"She doesn't remember you... get used to it... they never do." Cross hears Chara hiss to him. "We've been through this song and dance time and time again."

Cross wants to ignore the pessimism, but Chara had a point. Memory loss was a common side effect of being Overwritten. X-Sans could vouch for such a thing.

But perhaps... he can make you remember.

"I want to try." He replies to his other half, eyes never leaving your confused form.

"There's no point... do you really expect her to love you? Us? She won't." Chara replies, a frown on his face.

"I don't care." Cross, X-Sans, answers... once again bickering to himself. "I refuse to lose her again."

Chara keeps saying it's pointless, but his pleas are ignored when Cross acts. With reckless abandon, Cross attacks. However, he never harms you.

He's careful. He can harm original Sans, he can even harm Ink... but you're the target. Ink notices this and does his best to defend you. Unfortunately... Cross manages to outsmart the guardian and grabs you when he can.

Nightmare finds the whole thing amusing. Cross seemed so desperate to keep you. He could sense positive emotion brewing in the tortured soul pair... but not enough to drive him away.

By the time you regain your senses, you're in a universe completely unknown to you. A doomed timeline? A doomed universe? You couldn't tell....

Your eyes and head hurt...

But soon a figure in front of you comes into view... a golden locket around their neck.

You try to regain your senses, a hand hesitantly touching your shoulder. It feels vaguely familiar... yet you could tell the source of the touch was in disbelief. When you focus on their face... his face... you see a red and white set of eyes staring at you.

"It's you..." The person in front of you murmurs... eyes wide. "It really is you..."

You stare at the figure in front of you. You can tell they're who Ink told you about. Cross... that's his name, yeah?

Cross can see your confusion and appears pained for just a moment. He appears to be listening to someone for a second before scooting closer. He grips the locket around his neck, before his attention swaps fully to you.

"Do you remember this?" Cross asks, gesturing to the locket. You feel like you've seen it somewhere... but have no clue. You try to move away from him but his grip quickly switches to your ankle, gaze swapping to purple and red for a moment.

Sensing the tension in the air... you shake your head softly. Cross pauses at your response and you swear you see tears form for a moment before he composes himself. He appears to listen to another voice again before moving closer again.

"Do you really remember nothing?" Cross asks, denial in his voice. Chara nags him again but he refuses to listen. "It's me! Your partner!"

Cross recalls the many times you two met. It wasn't until timeline X that you two managed to graduate from childhood friends to new lovers. Of course... that was taken from him...

Yet here you sit with him once again... a possible new start for the both of you... it feels wrong to be optimistic.

Cross is only met with more confusion. You stare at him as if he's delusional. The thought finally brings tears streaming down Cross's skull as he stares at you again.

Why must he be tortured in such a way...?

You try to say something when you notice the tears flow... but are cut off when Cross lunges into a hug around you.

You see him shift into another human for a moment... once you aren't sure if you recall... but he swaps back into the usual skeleton self soon enough. You feel him sob into your shoulder and you sit there awkwardly.

You want to comfort him... but he's dangerous and out of his mind... isn't he?

"No one else understands me except you!" Cross pleads. "I just want you back! Please remember... we were perfect for each other!"

His grip tightens and your breath hitches in response.

"We had finally become boyfriend and girlfriend... I was so close..." Cross continues but he pauses, perking up as another idea is whispered by Chara. His gaze then snaps to you again, red and purple haunting your vision.

"... but I can still have that." Cross whispers, pulling away to look you in the eye. "I have you now... I just have to make you remember..."

He then leans closer and you freeze, his eyes still remaining that haunting color.

"I'll make it happen again... it won't fail this time." Skeletal fingers hold your face in a loving manner. "We'll be lovers again... you'll be all mine... no one's going to take you from me again."

Cross can see you attempt to protest but he quickly cuts you off.

"Neither Ink or Sans will take you from me." Cross vows, eyes holding a possessive yet desperate glint. "Even if you try to refuse me... I won't let it happen."

Cross then pulls you into another crushing embrace, knocking the wind out of you. You feel power radiate from him. It scares you.

"We're meant to be... always were meant to be..." Cross whispers in your ear. "I'll have us back to what we were before... even if I have to force it to happen again."

Completely at his mercy... you find yourself hugging him back to appease him. Cross seems to accept the gesture and stays in your arms. There's a deafening silence between you...

Yet Cross feels this is a step in the right direction...

Fate really does want you back together.

[toowildintheseventies]

Trade Mistakes

Chapter 4: Used To Be My Girl

A/N: oops 🫣

Pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: You’re a woman with many vices. Smoking, drinking, spending time in shitty clubs, and your undying love and obsession with your ex-boyfriend, Bruce Wayne. You had spent your entire adolescence with each other until he had unexpectedly broken your heart and disappeared. For the last few years, you two had lived separate, mysterious lives. Until you are reintroduced under strange circumstances and fictitiously rekindle your relationship.

Warnings: none! 

Tag list: @midnightmystic @doetic @toowildintheseventies-fan @avengersgirllorianna @allgaslynobrakess @1lellykins @elliesbabygirl

You adjust quicker than expected. 

The first evening is too slow. You sleep for most of the afternoon, on an old, worn couch in a room near Bruce’s. When you wake up in the early evening, your belongings have already been brought into the East wing of Wayne Tower, which sat abandoned without guests or visitors for two decades. It’s a quick move, without many things belonging to you, and the large space seems even emptier once all of your things are thrown onto window stills and inside drawers. 

It’s painfully unfamiliar, even if your special wing of Wayne Tower is almost identical to the one you frequented years ago. The walls are darker, the floors colder. You find yourself getting lost looking for the bathroom in the bleak darkness. Without Bruce at your side, the Tower seems foreign. You hate it. 

You call Bella as the sun begins to set on your first evening back as Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend. She’s already seen the news articles online, and she’s pissed. Rightly so, you think. 

Bella tells you that you’re being “a fucking idiot”.  You don’t disagree. 

She eventually calms down, after a few, long minutes of scolding you on heartbreak and irrational decisions. You promise to visit her at least once a week, along with the promise that you’ll still be paying your half the rent. Even though she says she loves you before hanging up the phone, it takes her a few days to answer your texts in the days that follow. Her life continues, along with the hidden life of the Lounge and the dirty night that you once recognized. Now, it seems as if your life is at a total standstill. 

You don’t see Alfred on the first night of your stay. At first, he seems to be hiding away, same as Bruce, as if you’re a secret guest that cannot be disturbed. But the next morning, he’s at your door with a cup of tea and a warm smile. You sit together in the dining room, discussing simply just as you always had. He doesn’t mention Bruce, but you don’t expect him to. For years, the two of you met once a month and had a friendly conversation. Bruce’s name never once came up, an unspoken rule. Instead, the two of you pretended to be old friends. You discussed work and city life, and Alfred shared a few memories of his life before working for the Wayne’s. It was obvious that he cared deeply for you, and you returned the sentiment. You don’t think you would’ve survived without him. 

The mention of Bruce never seemed awkward during those visits. Now, though, his absence is obvious and painful. If it was just another day like before, Bruce would’ve been sitting next to you at the table, ignoring his breakfast and instead, talking to the two of you. 

You assume that Alfred had already talked to Bruce about this new arrangement, only because it seemed to be his idea in the first place. Alfred always was strict about keeping up appearances and Bruce stayed true to his family’s name. 

In the middle of breakfast, you see a quick shadow appear in the hallway, just to quickly disappear again. You know it’s him. Expertly escaping just before you see him, but just dumb enough to make it too obvious. You look at Alfred with your eyebrows raised, daring him to mention it. He doesn’t, and your simple conversation continues until the food is gone and you go back to your bedroom. 

The next morning, after breakfast with Alfred, you enroll in classes at Gotham University and take your first class that same afternoon. You take the bus to campus instead of the black SUV that’s parked in front of the building, waiting for your command. The campus is old and dark, but small enough that it’s not difficult for you to find the English building and your first class. Classes are boring, but it’s exciting to continue what you once started. It feels good to be productive again and to have a goal. It’s been a long time since you felt like you were working towards something. 

Later that night, the first agreed-upon fake date begins. While getting ready in your bathroom, there’s a loud knock at your bedroom door. You’re quick to finish getting ready, putting in your last earring and finding your shoes, and then standing in front of your door, waiting. 

Waiting for what, exactly? You aren’t sure. Another knock at the door, maybe. Or him opening the door himself, instead of leaving the hard work to you. You’re hoping he would just disappear. You’d wake up back at your apartment, and this whole situation would just be some sick, depressing nightmare. 

Your hand reaches for the doorknob, and before you can change your mind, you open the door wide to find Bruce standing before you, his hands clasped behind his back. You haven’t seen him since yesterday morning when he disappeared into his bedroom after breakfast. He had given you a meaningless, polite smile and a funny little ‘good night’ that seemed to be an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t responded. 

No though, there’s no smile. Just a quick nod at your presence and a step back, letting you step into the hallway. Once outside in the light, you let yourself get a good look at him. He’s wearing white button-down and brown pants, looking brand new, as if he bought them just for tonight. (More likely, Alfred bought them just for tonight.) His hair is styled, and all remnants of black paint are gone from under his eyes. Instead, he’s clean-shaven and surprisingly, looks well rested. Well, at least as well-rested as Bruce Wayne can be. He looks…handsome. It makes your heart ache. 

“You look nice,” you murmur, walking past him down the hall. When you back at Bruce, he’s still standing in the same spot in the hallway, eyes wide and hesitant. 

“We have reservations, Bruce,” you say, trying to keep your tone playful. 

He quickly snaps out of his daze and follows you down the hallway. Walking down to the car parked outside Wayne Tower, Bruce is careful to walk a few steps behind you, as if he’s afraid to get too close. Even with him far behind you, you can still feel his overwhelming presence and pressing gaze. 

Once inside the car, Bruce turns to you. 

“You look nice, too,” he says, “I remember that dress.” 

You look down at your outfit, confused. You don’t remember the dress. It was just the first one you pulled out of your closet this afternoon after classes. It was a simple black dress, probably bought after graduating high school. 

“You do?” you ask, looking over at Bruce. 

He nods his head briefly, “You bought it directly after we received our first invitation to a benefit gala. The night before.” 

You stared at him, stunned. What a meaningless thing to remember. You think about the first benefit gala the two of you went to, probably at Gotham City Hall. The two of you were still trying to figure out your place in Gotham, outside of your family’s shadows. Even within the uncertainty, things were simple. Galas were always the most fun, with places to hide away and plenty of Gotham’s luxurious residents to ridicule secretly. You don’t remember the dress, but you do remember that night. How the two of you had shown up late with a swarm of reporters still awaiting your arrival, the dozens of politicians and influential people lining up to shake Bruce’s hand, and how the two of you had ended the night finding your little, secret door. 

You had found it on accident that evening, in a desperate attempt to hide from the crowds of people wanting to talk to you. You had pulled Bruce away from the chaos and into a darkened hallway, laughing and pulling him closer as you walked backward down the hall. Eventually, the two of you stumbled into an abandoned coat closet, with a tiny overhead light that flickered off and on, and broken furniture that you happily made your own. You had spent the rest of the evening in your secret room. 

It had become a ritual after that night. At every gala and event held at Gotham City Hall, the two of you eventually snuck away to the little room and spent the rest of the evening in total, hazy bliss. After that night, the two of you had it all figured out, and stabilized yourselves in the world of Gotham. Friendly, obnoxious smiles walking in, firm handshakes, fake laughter. All must be done. A few romantic moments, giggles in the corner, and a slow song dance as the night begins to end. Play the game, and excite the masses. Then, finally, release. Disappear into the little secret door, and become yourselves again. 

The car stopping directly outside the restaurant forces you out of your memory and back into the present, where Bruce is looking at you anxiously, awaiting instructions. 

You’re more nervous than you expected. Though, anxiety isn’t exactly right. It’s more of a feeling of absolute dread, something you hadn’t expected. Everything felt wrong as if you were expected to perform in a play you hadn’t read the lines for. You felt completely unprepared. 

You try not to let Bruce see your breathing hitch as he grabs your hand to help you outside the car, or when his hand finds the familiar spot on your back as he leads you up the steps. He’s not paying much attention to you, though. Instead, he’s busy shielding himself from the blinding lights and crowds of people waiting in front of the restaurant. 

The restaurant is quiet inside, enough to make you nervous. Underneath the dim lights, though, you find the anxieties disappearing. Sitting across from Bruce calms you in a small way, the familiarity is comforting. 

Possibly too familiar, however. Enough that you find yourself settling into your seat too quickly, and smiling at the waiter with your friendly, kind smile you haven’t used in years. Typically, your smile is used only as armor, like baring your teeth. Now, though, it’s genuine. A gesture of sweetness from Gotham’s favorite lover. 

Bruce reclaims his usual position, too. Ordering drinks and food for both of you and making friendly, common conversation as your order is taken. It’s unintentional, but the Wayne charm shines through just as it always had. A gentle smile that looks like his mother’s, and a polite handshake that represents the training from his father. He’d rarely notice it, never mention it. But it’s there, his rich-boy persona, the brilliant son skills. 

Once the waiter disappears and it’s just the two of you – the performance dissipates. You find yourself looking around the room, avoiding eye contact and instead freakishly focusing on the vintage flooring and shiny glass lights. The two of you are silent for a long time, the conversation already stalled. 

You’re distracted as two men are ushered towards a booth a few feet away from you by an anxious and jumpy hostess, who scurries away from them suspiciously quickly after dropping their menus on the table. They’re both dressed in expensive, vintage suits, with thinning hair combed neatly and a gold tooth poking through one of the man’s polite smiles at his companion. You think you recognize them, and as you continue to stare the man across from you matches your gaze, his eyes go wide with something like recognition. 

You fully recognize them now, as two frequenters of Iceberg Lounge, one of them the man who was beaten to a bloodied pulp two nights ago, who had run off with a broken nose, brought upon him by the man sitting across from you. 

      Bruce calling your name pulls you away from the images from that night, of drunken haze and bloodied hands. You look away from the table and towards Bruce, who is looking at you with intent, wild concern. 

  “What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head, trying to pretend that the man isn’t there, that he isn’t staring at you like he knows you. 

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks again, leaning towards you. 

He’s able to read you without fault, from your eyes alone. Even after all this time, and all your change, he knows you. It’s impossible to ignore, the way just a simple glance can allow him to know every thought going through your mind. 

“That man across from us,” you whisper, finally, “He’s the man from a few nights ago. He recognizes me.” 

You watch as Bruce tries to control an almost burst of laughter as if the thought is so absurd. He quickly contains himself, but still shakes his head in disbelief. 

“He doesn't recognize you. Is he staring?” 

“Staring, yes. Uncomfortably so.” 

“He’s probably just enraptured by the fact that he's sitting across from the most beautiful girl in Gotham,” 

Bruce says the last statement with such confidence, not an ounce of irony or sarcasm. There’s a sense of humor, though, from a small little smirk as he watches for your reaction. He says in the same way he once called you princess, a joke that eventually became something of total sincerity. His small smile and amused eyes show a confidence you hadn’t been accustomed to in the last few days, a confidence that only existed when he was seventeen years old and still hopeful. The familiar disposition comforts you for just a moment, but you’re quick to roll your eyes dramatically in response. 

“Be serious. He could recognize you, too. Like I did.” 

“You recognizing me was an unavoidable fluke,” Bruce says. 

He’s interrupted for a moment by the waiter coming up to the table with plates of food. Bruce leans away from the table with a polite, kind smile of thanks and when the waiter disappears – he leans back towards you, even closer. 

“You’re too smart, and you know me too well. You would have recognized me in any way during any circumstance. But you’re the only one who can.” 

“That’s a dangerous philosophy for the line of work you’re in.” 

Bruce shrugs with the same hidden, familiar smirk – then pauses for a moment to look over at the table away from you. You follow his gaze toward the men sitting there, noticing that they’re both talking and drinking, paying no mind to you. 

“Maybe,” Bruce says, looking back toward you, “But I’ve done this for three years now. I always knew you’d be the one I needed to look out for.” 

“Why?” you ask, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves. 

You hate this conversation. It feels as if you’re having a conversation with a part of your psyche, able to read your mind without you even speaking. His calm words ease you slightly, but make you feel like you’re going slightly insane. Not to mention the way he’s looking at you. It’s as if he’s trying to befriend a feral cat – like you’re something he has to be kind to or you’ll bite his hand. 

“Because I’d know you blind and deaf. I assumed it would be the same for you. And I was right, wasn’t I?” 

You copy his shrug, which makes him smile. 

“I was right,” he confirms, “You know me.” 

The rest of your meal is eaten quickly in comfortable silence until the check comes, when Bruce looks at you and begins again, already soothing the anxieties that hadn’t come. 

“They may recognize you if you throw on a pink wig and catch a certain look in your eye. But not now. Now, you’re completely unknown. It’s the same way with me, separate identities – only one of them real. I know you understand.” 

And you did understand. More than you felt comfortable with, honestly. You hate floating through different forms of beings, pretending to be a thousand different things. To Bruce, it seems to come as second nature. He’s able to become someone in the spotlight and become someone completely new in the shadows. It doesn’t seem to affect him, either. If anything, it makes him a better man. 

Bruce has the unique ability to close all the darkness within him into a crowded box and open it up only when there’s a funny little light in the sky and criminals in dark alleyways. The bloodied fists and anger hadn’t only come three years ago, at the beginning of his project. He had come home to you bruised and beaten a thousand times before. But when he looked at you, there was only kindness. That part of him had gone away. 

You aren’t sure you have that special capability. Instead, you bring little pieces of all your dead lives with you, nurturing them like ancient cracks on statues. Every part of you is muddied and connected, and you sit across from Bruce a mess of a person, unable to lock certain parts of yourself away. 

But maybe parts of yourself aren’t as obvious to others as they seem to be to yourself when you look in the mirror. Instead, now, you’re only one part of yourself to everyone. Bruce Wayne’s true love, Gotham’s special sweetheart. And no one is looking for anything else. 

The men from the restaurant stay in your mind for the rest of the night, even after Bruce’s comforting words. As you’re walking out of the restaurant, closer to Bruce than ever before underneath a dark umbrella, you can’t help but look over your shoulder one last time at the window where the two men are sitting, watching the commotion out on the rainy street. You’re quick to turn back to the cameras, though, smiling a brilliant smile and holding yourself close to Bruce, who has his familiar hand at the small of your back. 

Even in the car, away from Gotham noise and cameras, you’re still thinking of them. Specifically, thinking of all the terrible things that could happen in the evening, when Bruce disappears from the tower and onto Gotham streets. They could’ve recognized him, you think. It’s not completely impossible. And they’ll find him again, this time without the fear. There aren’t many criminals and underground vermin who are afraid of a billionaire son like Bruce Wayne, anyway. You try not to imagine the worst-case scenarios. 

You let the fear take over while he’s helping you out of the car and back into the entrance of Wayne Tower. You turn towards him frantically and resist the urge to grab both shoulders and shake. 

“Don’t go out tonight. Stay here.” 

Bruce’s face falls, and you realize you’ve just asked the question that he feared most. The question that probably convinced him to stop returning your phone calls and instead devote himself fully to a project that had nothing to do with you.  

“You can’t ask me to do that,” he says softly. 

“I know,” you say, shaking your head and taking a soft step back, “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re paying my rent now, you know. I need you around.” 

Your pathetic attempt at a joke is a failure. Instead, you just seem crazed and neurotic. Somehow failing as a fake girlfriend, being too needy and anxious in the face of some great design. If you ask him to stay, you know he’ll just disappear. 

“I’m going to bed,” you say at the stairs, “Just be safe tonight. That’s all I’m asking.” 

You leave him there, at the beginning of the stairs – watching you silently leave. You have to imagine he’s dreaming up a plan to get out of this game, cheat on the rules and kick you out of his home, and pretend nothing ever happened. At this point, you wouldn’t mind either. It would save you some embarrassment and sleepless nights. 

Hours later, you eventually find yourself falling asleep. You had closed the curtains tight in an attempt to ignore the glowing light that was beckoning Bruce toward danger. Your room feels more welcoming now, too. After a night out in Gotham and a halfway run-in with Iceberg Lounge pests, anywhere would feel like home. 

You try not to imagine what’s happening in the streets below you. Instead, you remember Bruce’s kind, faint smile – and distract yourself by eyeing the details etched on the wall near your bed, until you fall into a restless, disappointing sleep. 

—

“Are you asleep?” 

You look up at Bruce with heavy eyelids, watching as he towers over you on the bed. 

You shake your head sleepily, “Not now.” 

“Do you want to go for a ride?” 

“What?” 

Without answering, Bruce hands you a black riding jacket, which you take without further questioning. Sitting up in bed, you wrap the jacket around your shoulders and swing your feet off the bed. 

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs, where Bruce opens up a small closet near the entryway, rummaging through worn boxes in search of something. You take a moment to rub your eyes as they adjust to the dim light of the hallway and push your hand into the deep pockets of the riding jacket. 

You feel something inside the left side pocket, and when you pull it out towards the light, you see that it’s a magenta-colored pack of cigarettes, the same ones Bruce had given you the first morning, as a gentle peace offering. 

You extend them to Bruce with an eyebrow raised in silent questioning as he walks back over to you holding an oversized motorcycle helmet. 

He shrugs in response, taking them from you and putting them in his pocket. 

“Look around the place,” he says casually, “You’ll find a pack anywhere.” 

You’re too tired to analyze his response or to even really think about his reasonings behind keeping packs of cigarettes littered around his home. Instead, you take a moment to look at him as your eyes fully adjust. His hair is wild, and his eyes dark with smudged eye black. He has layers of clothing on, a dark hoodie underneath a heavy jacket, both dirty with late-night rain and oil stains. A completely different man than the one you left only a few hours earlier. Now, he’s a man visually stained with Gotham’s sins. 

He places the motorcycle helmet on your head, and you watch as he grins wildly at the sight, a small choke of laughter escaping him at the sight of the oversized helmet over your face. 

“I’ll take you around Gotham.” he says, “We still have time to see the sunrise.” 

“Sunrise? “Do you treat your other fake girlfriends this nice?” 

He’s still grinning at you, and as Bruce flips the visor down over your eyes with a quick swipe, he responds, “No. Just you.” 

There’s one thing that is still painfully true about Bruce Wayne – he knows his city. 

Once you are on the back of his old motorcycle, the same one he’s had since he was seventeen, Bruce takes you everywhere. Around the barely awake streets of Gotham, driving through late night traffic and broken construction sites, down old, secret alleyways, and through backstreets behind warehouses. It’s a different Gotham than you remember, one that you hadn’t seen in years. Though still dirty and damaged, the worn streets and skyscrapers are familiar. The only thing that’s ever resembled home. 

It’s nice, you realize, to spend time with him when the two of you aren’t expected to speak for a while. Instead, you’re expected to hold onto him tightly and listen to the sound of harsh wind against your face. The pressure is gone, without the cameras and onlookers watching every move. This is what you once wished for, though now it seems foreign and wrong. 

The two of you stop eventually on the outskirts of Gotham, as soon as the sun begins to rise over the city skyline. You’re in a forgotten spot, where trees still grow along boulevards and the paths are gravel and cobblestone. You can see the entire city from here, watch as it stretches awake from a long night, as cars begin to clog the streets, and lost church bells begin to chime. In this spot though, it’s quiet. 

It reminds you of the city that, for some reason, you love with your entirety. You’ve tried to run away a thousand times, ignore the city that raised you when no one else would. But it’s impossible. Especially with Bruce sitting beside you, who’s become Gotham’s prince, even within the shadows of his disappearance. 

Gotham isn’t a beautiful place. Maybe it’s only beautiful when you’re miles away from it. But you can’t ignore the way it makes you feel. 

“I’m going to sound insane,” you begin as you watch the sunlight hit the skyscrapers, “But I love this city. All of its chaos, its terrible faults – I know they’re terrible. But, there’s just something here, I think. Goodness that can’t be ignored.” 

Bruce steps off the motorcycle, keeping a firm hand on the seat to keep you steady as you swing your feet to one side and turn towards the skyline in its entirety. You watch as he grimaces against the sun for a moment, before turning back toward you. 

“Gotham’s killing itself. It’s hard to find the beauty in it.” 

You shrug, ignoring his common pessimism, “You’re Gotham’s hero. In more ways than one. You must notice something about it that keeps you going.” 

Bruce shakes his head, “Not exactly.” 

You lean forward, looking up at him with bright eyes, “Then why do it?” 

“That’s a great question. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” 

“Is it worth it?” 

“Barely.” 

You sigh softly and lean away from him, looking back toward the skyline past Bruce standing in front of you. The both of you are silent for a long time, looking at identical skylines, but imagining two very different things. 

“I know you love this city,” Bruce finally says, breaking the silence, “For a little while, it made me love it too.” 

“I loved Gotham because it was yours.” 

It’s a confession you hadn’t known you’d be making. Yet, it falls out almost too naturally, as if it had been dying to be said. 

“I protect it because it’s yours.” 

He turns to look at you when he says it, but you don’t match his gaze. Instead, you stay focused on the skyline, watching as the sky changes from a harsh night to a softer morning. 

He says your name, quietly, after a while. You finally look back at him and watch as his tired eyes follow yours. 

“I’d like us to be friends,” he says softly, walking back toward the motorcycle and you, “When you’re ready, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I’ll answer every question you’re afraid of asking now. Right now, I don’t want to make anything harder. So let’s try being friends.” 

You give him a faint, broken smile, “That would be nice,” you answer weakly, “I’d like to be your friend again.” 

Bruce smiles slightly as he mounts the motorcycle again, and as you hold onto him while he drives away from the little overlook, you can’t help but realize how genuine you’ve been – how much you meant every word you said.

[lickthecowhappy]

The three songs in the Small Back Room represent the three seasons

I want to talk about the three songs that play in The Small Back Room. They seem specific and I have thoughts on them but I would love to read more opinions. At the moment, I have two main theories about the choices and their sequence. There is probably more to it than I see but I’ll focus on just one here. I also think that threes are more important that we realize and the fact that there are three instances of the audience hearing music in the shop is significant. I also think it’s interesting that Aziraphale heard two songs and Crowley one, and which they each heard.

The three songs that we hear in The Small Back Room are:

You Don’t Own Me by Lesley Gore from the album Lesley Gore Sings Of Mixed-Up Hearts (This plays in episode 1 when Aziraphale goes to see Maggie about the “ugrent” matter.)

You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me by Dusty Springfield from the album You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me (This plays when Aziraphale goes into the shop to ask about the song Jim was singing. Maggie is “not crying” about being rejected by Nina.)

Comin’ In On A Wing And A Prayer (published in 1943) (This song is playing when Crowley goes to make sure Maggie is on her way to the Whickber Street traders and shopkeepers monthly meeting.)

For this analysis I will assume they represent the themes of Seasons 1-3, and that they are chronological.

You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys

You Don’t Own Me represents the abandoning of their sides. It’s a song intended to say “I’ll go along with you as far as I can but don’t try to tie me down.” The lyrics are a declaration that the listener doesn’t hold any ownership over the singer, the singer has full autonomy and won’t accept any attempt to be changed or restrained. This tracks with season 1. It’s heard by Aziraphale very early in s2e1, before Jim even shows up. Aziraphale and Crowley go along with their sides in season 1 but ultimately choose their own autonomy (what’s right) at the risk of destruction.

When I said I needed you You said you would always stay It wasn't me who changed but you and now you've gone away Don't you see that now you've gone And I'm left here on my own That I have to follow you and beg you to come home

You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me represents separation and the absence of commitment. The song details that the singer is in love with the listener who has seemed to change their mind and abandoned them. The singer insists that the listener need not make a verbal declaration of love but just to be accessible. It is heard when Maggie is “not crying” over Nina and their uncomfortable feelings, and while Aziraphale is trying to uncover (unbeknownst to him) another romance. This is consistent with the results of season 2. Aziraphale has seemingly abandoned their side after Crowley’s request to remain close at hand. A romance that has been, up until now, mutually unspoken but mutually felt.

Comin' in on a wing and a prayer Comin' in on a wing and a prayer With our one motor gone We can still carry on Comin' in on a wing and a prayer

Comin’ In On A Wing And A Prayer represents reliance on hope in a desperate situation. This song is the origin of the common idiom meaning exactly that. “Things look bleak, but we have a chance.” Our plane is crippled but we’re all alive, we’ve achieved our goal, and we might yet land safely. It is heard when Crowley reminds Maggie of the meeting, and I think that it is significant that it’s the only one he hears and the only one Aziraphale doesn’t hear. If this song represents season 3, one driving force is out of commission; non-responsive. But there are still other forces at work and the listener should keep faith.

But what if these songs are all present as emotional manipulation?

[vorbarrsultana]

the vampire lestat reread, pt. 1 (lestat and nickistat)

also known as "i decided to reread tvl after the season finale because some takes i've seen online give me the impression i read a completely different book two years ago". i've finished it two days ago, and turns out i have more than 5000 words of notes that significally exceed tumblr character limit. so, i had to split them into three parts.

here is part one, all about dramatic theater kids full of love, sad violinists of infinite beauty, and friends-to-lovers romances doomed by the narrative.

i love lestat.

i forgot how fun and likable tvl lestat is from page one. and how different he is from his fanon characterization!

lestatposting is fun, i get it, but i am starting to get annoyed at the amount of fanfics where lestat needs someone to help him adapt to modern times. he is doing fine on his own, thank you. it took him less than two weeks to start a rock band.

(and the whole iphone thing from "prince lestat" is more about him not seeing it as something useful since he has a mind-skype ability to talk to any vamp on planet earth, and they cannot decline the call.)

lestat is not stupid. impulsive? yes. stubborn? of course. but clever, resourseful, and cunning when he needs to be. all of this makes him a great hunter! also, really thoughtful when the mood strikes, and his quiet, existential moments have some of the best prose in that book.

i wish someone smarter than me wrote a good meta about lestat & social class because he really seems to buy into the idea of "noblesse oblige" i.e. the belief that aristocrats are obliged to take care of those less fortunate. it's present in the way he kills the wolf pack for the villagers (who live on his father's land), and later takes responsibility for the theatre troupe & remnants of armand's coven, even though he doesn't owe them anything.

also, characterization of lestat as someone socially cluesless is simply untrue. sure, he plays dumb on occasion (and hates it every time because early life illiteracy trauma), but he is also good at reading people. like, he got a pretty accurate read of armand behind the angelic facade during their first face-to-face meeting. the only people he has trouble reading are those closest to him because he heavily projects his abandonment issues on them.

lestat's struggle of being "too much" contrasts nicely with the struggle of never being enough which is so crucial to louis. hashtag made for each other.

and juxtaposition of lestat's desire to be loved for who he is and louis's struggle with identity is also delicious.

this time i also related so much to lestat's "malady of mortality" and his search for meaning in the world. which ultimately fails because he is forcibly turned into a monster, and now every ounce of happiness he might bring into the world (and lestat desperately wants to do good!) is outweighed by him killing to survive.

and marius later reinforced the belief that vampirism has no higher purpose, and no wonder that nola!lestat is a shell of his former self.

lestat's turning is the most classic horror moment of the vampire chronicles to me. the mina harker of it all. the creature of night shrouded in terror snatching an innocent victim from the arms of their love right before bleak november sunrise.

also, all the implications of what magnus has done to lestat were even more clear during this reread, and i wonder if that was the reason rolin "i-love-narrative-parallels" jones added bruce into claudia's story.

the book also explains perfectly why lestat is so well suited for vampirism. his curiosity, thirst for new experiences, and adventuring spirit are his eternal engine on the devil's road :)

however, the downside of that personality facet is that lestat steamrolls over his trauma telling himself "this is fine! look, satan, i am making the best of it", which in turn leads to the iwtv nola mess.

and i feel like this constant search for positives in vampirism (that unwilligly turned lestat & claudia share) is why they can't really relate to louis, who chose it for himself. if these two start to get too existential, the temptation to throw themselves into the fire might become unbearable.

lestat equating his loneliness with his evilness is interesting, but i have nothing to say about that for now other than equation being there.

lestat's explosive temper is also present in the book. there is a constant pattern of lestat doing things he regrets the most (like the theater performance fiasco or eating people at notre dame's steps) when he is angry or upset.

let's talk about nicki. i love him, despite half of fandom hating on him for some reason.

lestat has a type, which is "good catholic boy" with narrow view of good and evil. except louis is of a parent's favorite, conforming variety, and nicki is the rebellious one, driven to the utmost cynicism by religious dogmas.

however, despite being a self-proclaimed cynic, nicki practically drowns in catholic guilt, almost reveling in the fact that everything he does, from playing violin in the boulevard theater to having an affair with lestat, is wrong. there is no meaning in anything, and he is doomed to die a sinner's death.

he is doomed! by the narrative though.

lestat and nicki's philosophical difference seems to be that nicki (unlike lestat) does not believe in inherent goodness of the positive emotions. for him, "sin always feels good", therefore happiness they bring performing = sin.

but still, nickistat's love is so touching. after lestat ghosts nicki to protect him, he still trusts lestat's love for him and the troupe, thinks best of him, and shuts down all nasty rumours. in turn, lestat equates all the good that was in his mortal life, all his hopes and dreams with nicki. he is a symbol of everything magnus took from him.

AND THEY COMMUNICATE THROUGH MUSIC, AND IT'S THEM AT THEIR BEST, AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL.

nicki almost became lestat's charlie. when they meet face to face for the first time after lestat's transformation, he can barely contain his hunger magnified by attraction.

the most terribly sad thing about nicki is the unfairness of all that happened to him. he had seen lestat being shot right before him, then he disappeared with dying gabrielle, then the coven kidnapped and tortured him until he lost his mind.

and for nicki, the dark gift is a confirmation of everything he believes in being true. the meaninglessness of it all. evil being the only certain thing in the world. the way to fall into a deeper, darker abyss than the one that was before the mortal him. and it is a confirmation that lestat's inner light he loved so much will eventually burn out.

(his spark in the dark, if you will.)

(and lestat's dream before turning nicki hurts, because he dreams of growing up and growing old together, of maturing past magnus's eternal lelio with sunlight in his hair and summer sky in his eyes. oh, the lesdaughter of it all.)

there is certainly a parallel between nickistat's bitter "in darkness, we are equal now" vs loustat's comforting "in the quiet dark, we were equals".

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hey, I’m sorry to dump this on ya but your blog gives me a lotta hope and I just wondered if you had anything to say to my current ails- I am but a very anxious teen and I am so scared. I see so many people talking of how the world “Will end in 2040” or how “damn the past was so much better because it was simpler” and I am lowkey starting to believe that. I’ve got a problem with romanticizing a past I wasn’t even a part of and I really don’t want to live in some awful dystopian future and I fear I’ve missed out on so much because of when I was born :( and how come no one can afford basic shit anymore? I don’t wanna have no money at all! I really would like to be happy in the future but with all the bullshit caused by social media and the lack of money it seems bleak. I’m sorry that this is such a negative ask but I am not doing so hot and was hoping you’d have an insight ? Don’t respond if you don’t wanna

Hey ya there sprout 🌱 it can be really tough out there!

Your feelings are valid, so valid in fact that those exact feelings are why Solarpunk as it currently exists is around! We've all been there!

Between the wages of the top 10% of ppl vs everyone else being greater then during the French revolution, the average citizen globally being worse off then when the great depression was happening, climate crisis after crisis, all while consuming endless bits of info both horrifying (ex Politics) and hopeful (ex Social Media activism) it's waaaay too much for anyone to bare alone! Much less constantly! That burden shouldn't be on any of us!! But since it is, I'm here to help at least lighten the load even if temporary.

The best thing to do when we feel like this is to stop. Find 5 minutes to be still. We are fight/flight/fawn creatures and we will only loop in our solutions without actual clear choices if we don't Chill Out. We're mammals our natural state is Chilling Out and Play.

Next, think about how cool the planet is and particularly how cool humans are?

How there's finger flutes on ceilings thousands of years old, smaller then average indicating that parents held their children up to draw on the ceilings.

Think about the invention of looms and spinning fibers! What other creature could do that? Think about the kids that could build Snowmans without aching fingers because of lovingly knit mittens.

We sing like whales do, like birds do, like wolves do, and we do it to share stories and ideas over food! It is the first things babies mimic! We have songs so old we no longer know their origin just that they came from love! We even have songs to herd cattle meaning music transcends just us but bleeds into our relationships with the planet!

That we have play behavior! Just like wolves and foxes and whales and octopus it is so built into our DNA to play its generally how we learn things! This ranges from agriculture (children tossing seeds around, blowing on dandelions!) To chores (parachute games > folding laundry, playing pretend > usually chores/job based) to hunting (tag! Hide and seek!)

Think about our interconnectiveness with the planet too, how we are guided by Honey guides to find abandoned hives to share in the spoils of bread and honey. How Sweetgrass needs us to flourish, how berries and nuts need us to spread across the land, how we fix other animals broken bones and beaks and help them return home when otherwise they wouldn't ever get home.

Now that you can remember we deserve to be here, that you deserve to be here. We can look at the current situation and bare it.

And we do that by doing small things. Jam out and listen to music while picking up litter on your block, go to a library and just hang out or research something you love, make seed Bombs and toss them I to abandoned lots, make silly cartoons. Whatever it is, it will be enough.

The weight of the world isn't ment for the individual no matter how much Capitalism and Elites will try and guilt you over their failures. That weight is ment for collective groups, but your job as a Person is to be happy where you can and to be kind so others can be happy. The last thing that I always keep in my heart is a quote from my fave author Ursula Le Guin:

Hang in there, a brighter tomorrow is gunna happen. I promise 🌻

[artycomicfangirl]

Princess Daisy’s Past, Her Family, and her Kingdom

Personal Headcanons List so far

—————————————————

Because it seemed like quite a few people were interested in some of my Daisy fan works. I decided to release this list of headcanons, which I actually found out I abandoned a while ago. Just decided to polish up and add more!

Before I go on, I just would like to add some context of my own kind-of AU and lore about Daisy’s father. (Since the fandom calls him Richard, I’ll be using that name too!) Some of these are just complete brainstorming. So in the future, info might change.

Now we got that out of the way, hope you enjoy this almost mini-book length lore, haha. Take your time, no pressure. But consider this as a little treat for those who love fan-lores and such!

—————————————————

Sarasaland’s History

Sarasaland was either a Barren wasteland, where 4 Kingdoms have been at each other’s throats for a long time in prior history.

Or, it was once a prosperous land. But one where it had been oppressed and enslaved by a crueler rule.

Whichever idea I was planning, it’s important to know that before Current Sarasaland, it was said to have been a bleak and dark place where “Not even flowers would even dare bloom”. The innocent folk there always dreamed of seeing beautiful fields of flowers.

There was supposed to be a miracle event that was recorded in a historical book entry about the day that Sarasaland was saved. From an account written by someone unknown:

“…Gone was the grey, somber Plume Filled Sky. When the Rays of light shone through, For the first time in ages, we saw crystal blue. Blessed by a miracle, the sight of flowers blooming all across the land. We have been kept in darkness for so long, now finally free from a cruel ironic-clad hand.”

—————————————————

Daisy and her Family

Daisy’s Father

I had ideas that Daisy’s Father may not even have originally been of royal blood at all. However, he ended up being the ‘Hero’ of his time long ago, when he and his comrades swore to save Sarasaland. And because of his spirit in battle and admirable leadership, he was chosen to be the King of the Land. A bit like Mario and Luigi being the signature heroes of Mushroom Kingdom.

The way Richard was crowned Prince could be similar to how Princess Peach would go through a process in the Super Mario Bros movie 2023. A time period of training, until he was very much ready to be crowned.

I 100% believe that this is a like Father, like Daughter situation. Daisy has inherited much more of her personality from her Father than her mother, and it shows. People would wonder how a Princess can be so battle-ready, rough and brave? Just take one look at her Father, and you’ll see why! She has very much inherited her his stubborn, and often at times very energetic and silly nature.

Personality wise, I assume that current Richard is overall, a tough man. A Veteran. He might look a bit too intimidating. But deep down, he still has a good heart that cares for the well-being of those around him.

Even more so, he melts when he’s around his wife. He adores his daughter even more so, because she is all he has left. So I guess we can believe with certainty, that Richard is definitely an overprotective type over things he loves and cares for.

When he was his younger self, he was more of a Bright-Eyed and determined youth. Leaning towards more of the stereotypical hero figure. Over time, he did learn to become a stronger and good leader. But as he grew older, there show the traces of a slightly grumpy older man.

There was that point where he did made sure to keep a child Daisy in the confines of the castle, right after losing his wife.

At first, the subjects and other 4 Kings thought this was a necessary and appropriate idea. But a while after, they started to think that the Princess might be sad if she was to constantly be watched over and told to stop doing things and be careful.

The King’s mindset would end up changing, when he finds a Diary that his wife used to own around the time when they were both still Prince and Princess.

The contents of the diary contained deep, poignant feelings and emotions. The most that moved his heart, was when she would describe her love for the King. All in all, Richard got an insight of his late Wife’s thoughts. Her happiest moments showed how genuine, kind and free the Queen felt, and how much of a beautiful person she was inside and out.

It was then Richard decided to do what was right, and to raise his Daughter to not always just be cautious and meek. But to be brave, carefree and unafraid, letting her flourish to be her best self. So that in the future, he would be able to have more faith in Daisy being able to take care and fight for herself.

At the beginning, He began teaching Daisy at a young age on how to fight and defend herself, along with giving her scholars that teach her about Sarasaland’s history. It’s a bit later that Richard had the idea of Daisy being also mentored by the 4 Kings in Sarasaland. This is the reason why Daisy is so headstrong and strategic as she is now. Also opening for the idea of her having a close familal relationship with the other Kingdoms, and how much they trust and have faith in her.

I actually thought it would be an interesting take to get some inspirations from the 1993 Daisy in the live action Super Mario Bros movie. A personal Headcanon (And inspired from her original personality), is that despite being a tomboy, Daisy values and treasures history and culture. Being quite knowledgeable in some things across the cultures of the 4 Kingdoms under her rule.

It’s because Richard wanted Daisy to be able to know her kingdom like the back of her palm. In fact, Daisy’s vast knowledge with certain historical things comes off as a surprise to most others. It may be even implied that Daisy could even be able to read and speak certain languages. Funnily enough, Daisy is also quite savvy when it comes to financial things.

But with Daisy being Daisy, she is more of an assertive Soldier/Leader. A bit different to Peach being a calm and caring Diplomat.

On the Day Tatanga made his presence known, the King only found out about the invasion during his usual visitings with the Palace Scientist’s (A bit like their version of Prof E. Gadd).

One of the Scientists gave reports about how for the past few days, there have been strange activity of something entering and lingering within the world’s Atmosphere, Somewhere above Sarasaland. This strange activity would try to emit signals. which each time, seem to grow more powerful every day.

After Richard asks when the next signal could be predicted, all computers and systems were hijacked. Each and every communicative technology displaying a sinister message, Implication of an invasion. The King immediately took action, initiating an entire announcement throughout the entire land. However, they were little too late.

The Main Sarasaland Palace was seized as Tatanga and his army would make his appearance. But not wanting to give up, The King was able to cause a rebellion. Sparking the first Battle with the Alien Army.

At this point is where I thought of the idea that originally, it seemed like that Both the King and his daughter were going to escape together, trying to reach one of the Warp pipes.

However, the big reveal was that The King had only wanted to assist his Daughter in making sure the Future Heir of Sarasaland, would escape safety. Richard would stay and fend for the Kingdom he swore to protect. As he said “Much like your mother did in her last moments, before they took her away.”

Richard believed that because The Aliens had been above their land for quite some time before they attacked, they had been surveying the land down below. And in turn, knew everything on what to expect. If Daisy were to escape, it was highly likely that she could reach other Kingdoms in time and ask for help, places where Tatanga would have not been able to reach just yet.

Daisy initially refused to leave her Father. But at the end, Richard ordered the Sphinx King Totomesu to take Daisy away to the last warp pipe. And that once Daisy was able to be transferred successfully, to destroy the Warp pipe afterwards. The last thing that Daisy saw before she was knocked out from the Warp Pipe being destroyed, was her father and the other 4 Kings going right into battle.

Usually I would go the route of “Parents have died” route. But I’m juggling with a potential idea that in fact, both of Daisy’s parents are not actually dead. She may have initially thought so. But both her Mother and Father in both occurrences, have only been taken away. But in Daisy’s case, she has witnessed Tatanga perform the mind control across almost all residents of Sarasaland.

It is through her Father’s will, which drives Daisy to take back and free her Kingdom and her father.

—————————————————

Daisy’s Mother

(She is sort of like a Fan Character/Oc at the point. And because I have a name for her, I’ll be referring to her as such here!)

Queen Laelia. A woman of knowledge and intellect, A preserver and appreciator of history and culture. She is pictured to be calm, elegant, kind, gentle and wise. However, she is also known to be firm and confident when it comes to decision making. Yet also understanding and more willing to hear the perspectives of anyone to gain an understanding of them.

Her Namesake is inspired from the Laelia Orchid flower, known for its purple colour. She might have some hint of magical abilities, or has a connection with magical places or objects.

Laelia could potentially be a descendant of long past ancestors from Sarasaland. That, or her ancestors were known to have an old holiday home/territory/Base somewhere located within one corner or Sarasaland. However during her time before she met Richard, she only knew life of her own Kingdom, located across the sea.

Because of this, she always felt like there was a ‘calling’ for her to one day see Sarasaland. Yet, she couldn’t quite place why. Her name might serve as a little indicator that Her Ancestors adopted the floral naming ideas, showing how deep their connection with the homeland runs.

Surprisingly, It’s Laelia whose main role as the Botanist/Plant specialist in the family. Daisy just ends up sharing and taking up similar hobbies and passions as her Mother did. But Daisy might more under the Explorer/Archaeologist role.

A young Princess Laelia would have met a Prince Richard when she was arriving to Sarasaland. Her Royal family treated this trip as a big deal, as this would be the first time they were able to set foot on Sarasaland docks. About a year or more prior, was when the news of Sarasaland being saved became public celebration.

The Princess and her family were impressed at the efforts for the 4 Kings in making the most of their efforts to restore Sarasaland to its former beauty. And even moreso shocked, as the Princess was always told that for the longest time, Sarasaland had lost its beauty and flowers. Yet here, the land was now thriving with no more war.

Laelia’s Interactions with Richard began when the Prince offered to give her a tour of Sarasaland, when she personally asked to be able to learn more as a part of her research and studies. Surprisingly, the Prince took up the role of Acting almost like a guide or advisor to her and her family.

This would lead to The Princess being curious as to why he offered to personally guide her, instead of sending a subject instead. The Prince mentions how much pride and love he has for the land. And how he will always wholeheartedly be a supporter to advocate for how much the Land changed him for the better. It was his job to oversee as much of the responsibility he can, so all of the civilians can live life in peace and free from worry. However, he mentions that if the Princess would like to have interviews with some of the local folk, he’ll gladly let her.

While Laelia’s family had to return to their kingdom, she opted to stay in Sarasaland for a while in order to keep watch, and to learn more about the development and culture. She promised that she would come home some time after them.

However, during this window of time, the Princess was slowly growing attached to Sarasaland. And unbeknownst to her, The Prince was the first to Harbor feelings for her as time went on. This would all build up throughout more interactions with the Prince, and soon ended up falling in love with one another.

When it was time for her to go back to her kingdom, she of course felt sadness when Even when she promised that one day she will return. But at that point, the thought of not being able to see Richard again made her feel down.

This would later be picked up by a family member (Could be mother, uncle, aunt or sibling ect) who couldn’t help but be concerned about the Princess. At first, the Princess tries to hide this, as her time there was meant to be strictly professional. But said family member would put the pieces together. Commenting how they noticed that from reports they heard, Laelia looked like she belonged there. That she had a newfound happiness.

This would later become a process of Laelia discussing with her Father. The King arranging to return to Sarasaland again with his daughter. And after some further discussion between two Kingdoms, there would come to an agreement that re-uniting and reforming an alliance that was once broken, would be the first beneficial step for both Kingdoms.

After a Wedding being arranged and taken place in Sarasaland. The Princess would gain her title as Queen, and the Prince now became a King.

Some time after, The Queen would give birth to their first and only child, A Daughter. They decided to name her Daisy, after the Queen’s favourite flowers.

(*NOTE!! At this point I’m not so concrete and fleshed out on this part of the story next, so these are just potential ideas)

The Queen would be able to be with her Daughter throughout most of her early childhood. However, the first life-changing incident would happen at a festival at the Queen’s home Kingdom.

During the yearly festival, an attack was made where a Villain wanted to take something from the kingdom. Maybe an object that radiated energy or held ancient secrets and knowledge that kept the kingdom thriving. A planned mission. All in all, if this object was taken, the Kingdom would call into Chaos.

At this point, there may be an implication that Daisy’s Mother has a magical ability. ( a Hand Power?? Similar to Firebrand or Thunderhand?) Maybe always born with one. So even when the enemy had failed to take the Prized object. They unfortunately managed to take Daisy’s Mother away. And the little Princess had witnessed it all.

Both Kingdoms were left grieving immensely after the incident. And even as both sides tried to heal over time, this was where Richard would have developed that time period of protectiveness over his Daughter for a little while.