#i think i've become her new personal hero

[infimace-blog]

Keep coming back to this and thinking about the asker's perception of the Weatherlight Saga, because it's definitely not free of 'identity first' storytelling.

Tahngarth's entire plotline revolves around his identity as a minotaur, a racial characteristic in Dominaria. He's forced to question whether he's still himself, still a minotaur after Phyrexia captures and disfigures him, and the payoff for that is that a minotaur tribe starts decorating themselves after his new, distorted form when he helps rescue them from Phyrexia later on. So, you know, having identity issues during a apocalypse, like having a gender crisis during a Bolas invasion.

Mirri was discriminated against for having heterochromia, forcing her to leave her birth family. The desire to belong weighs on her so much that one of her big choices is whether to abandon her best friend and secret love for another tribe of catpeople who do respect her. It's less of a factor in her story than her doomed love for Gerrard, but, frankly, her willingness to get herself killed over a nice white boy for whom she was third-place (after Hanna and Rofellos) makes a lot more sense if if you take abandonment and isolation issues into account.

Maybe the asker didn't notice because these identity issues were put on the non-human side characters. But, you know, they were still there. They're some of my favorite parts of the Weatherlight Saga to talk about, besides the competition to become evincar and Urza's bizarre behavior. And while this happened with funny animal people, the structure is analogous to things the anti-woke crowd would hate. Tahngarth's identity issues are reminiscent of those of black people living in largely white societies. And there's a lot of people under the 'DEI' banner who've had to deal with getting kicked out of their home for being born wrong, often queer or disabled or neuroatypical people.

This is how you give characters good storylines, especially with Magic's limited ability to get the story in front of people who just play the cards. You find an aspect of themselves that they care deeply about, something fairly obvious and easy to communicate, and see how the external world impacts that. And we're still seeing that now. Chandra's putting herself through death-defying adventure in Aetherdrift because it might help her lover, and her love for her is a major part of her identity. Tone's certainly different than the lovelorn motivations of Mirri or Gerrard or Ertai over the course of the Weatherlight Saga, but it's the same building blocks.

I think more of that kind of characterization would have been beneficial for Sisay, honestly. I can't speak for Mark or Michael, but I've never really been interested in her because most of her story is about what she does rather than who she is. Gerrard bores me for similar reasons; I find it difficult to get a read on his personality besides 'heroic' and 'white savior'. It strikes me that the two greatest heroes of that era were raised and, in one case, born from Jamuraa, Dominaria's stand-in for Africa, but that never really comes up in the saga. Gerrard's background exists to give him an evil black stepbrother and the most important part of Sisay's is growing up owning the Weatherlight - I generally forget that she even fought in the Mirage Wars.

So yeah, I think anyone on the same page as the guy who asked this is not interested in getting good stories out of Magic. I'm regularly unimpressed by Magic's story output over the past decade, but I can't tolerate anybody who thinks the answer to that is 'make the characters less interesting. Shave their identities down'.

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[lannisterdaddyissues]

AHHHHHHHHH i had such a nice experience at quarantine again today!! the cats were happy to see us and we showered them with love :’) and i was able to corner one of the feral kittens and he let me pet him for a couple minutes which is progress!!

[starry-bi-sky]

tales of the passerine - danny fenton being bruce wayne's first kid

okay okay. so this is like a continuation/elaboration of my oneshot/prompt i wrote about the idea that Danny was the first batkid. We have a lot of aus where he joins the family after the rest of the bats do, right? So hey! Lets shake things up a bit. Danny is the first to be adopted by Bruce Wayne.

Danny's parents and unfortunately Jazz die shortly after the events of TUE -- how so? I was gonna say an ecto-filter explosion, that would call back to the TUE explosion and trauma behind that. But lets do something new! Carbon-monoxide poisoning.

It's not too unexpected for something to break in the Fenton house, especially with the Fenton parents' questionable understanding of proper weapon handling and lab safety. The water heater broke from a stray shot by one of the weapons, and was promptly MacGyver'd incorrectly. Danny went to stay with Tucker for a guys' night, and came back to a dead silent house.

(Danny's neighbors got a very unfortunate shock when he ran to the next house over in hysterics.)

There was a lot of shuffling around with CPS, the police. People had to be called in to handle the equipment in the lab, and the GIW was rumoring to show up in aid to clearing the scene. When Danny heard of that, he immediately went and dismantled the ghost portal to the best of his abilities. He burned the physical blueprints of all his parents' inventions, their blueprints on the ghost portal, and their most dangerous weapons were destroyed beyond recognition. Anything to prevent the GIW from getting their hands on his parents' tech.

It opened up another investigation, but he was not under the list of suspects. He was placed in the care of Vlad Masters, where they then went back to the rebuilt castle mansion in Wisconsin. Danny, terrified of the future that has once passed and may do so again, shuts down in his grief. Inadvertently, he ends up somewhat repressing his ghost half. Something Vlad, who is grieving Madeline but relishing in Jack's demise and his custody of Daniel, is not very happy with.

Vlad's... gone into a bit of a mental health spiral. He's becoming increasingly possessive over Daniel, the final remnants of his friends and a liminal being like him. He doesn't like that Danny's repressing his ghost half -- both out of genuine concern as a ghost, but also because of his desire to control Danny and groom him into the perfect son. If you ever had a phase where you read Dark SBI found family fics, first off; me too bro, and second off; those are the vibes I'm thinking of.

Danny's mentally shut down from grief! And fear. He's dropped into a bad depressive state -- paralyzed with grief and the terror of the inevitable. Clockwork saved his parents because he believes in second chances, but what's the point of that when his family ended up dead anyways? Danny doesn't wanna believe that he's destined to become evil, and he's holding out onto that hope, but it's a thin line, and he feels utterly hopeless and trapped. He hasn't used his powers or ghost form since he trashed the lab, and Vlad has alarms set up to prevent him from trying to escape.

He's also unintentionally cut off Sam and Tucker -- both of whom are so scared and concerned for Danny too, and are trying their damndest to reach out to him. He keeps ignoring their texts. Danny basically haunts Vlad's manor. He goes out to eat if he has to, attends parties Vlad drags him to, and stays in his room all day if he can.

At parties, Vlad doesn't allow Danny to leave his side, or really talk to anyone -- not that Danny wants to. A product of Vlad's increasing possessiveness. Well, he almost doesn't let Danny leave his side. Danny has a habit of slipping off to hide somewhere for the parties whenever he can, and Vlad reluctantly allows it so long as he stays alone.

This becomes an advantage when eventually, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham after missing for years, and holds a bright charity ball to celebrate the return. Vlad has been chomping at the bits to get his hands on Wayne Industries, and with the return of its owner there is no better opportunity to wipe out his rival. He goes, and he as normal, brings Daniel with him.

Vlad thinks Wayne will bleed his little heart out for Daniel's poor orphan sob story -- he's a fellow orphan himself, after all. He's not wrong; Wayne's little heart will bleed, just not in the way that benefits him.

Bruce sees Vlad and Danny approaching before they're even close enough to introduce themselves - and like with many of the children he will soon come to care for, it's like someone set a mirror into the past right in front of him.

Danny Fenton's suit is tailor-made for him, and despite the fact that it's his perfect size, the sag in his shoulders, the ducked down head, and the way he hunches into himself all pictures the image of a child in shoes too big for him. There's a far away, glazed over look in his eyes and grief marble-cut into the lines of his face. There's not enough makeup in the world that will hide the dark circles under his eyes.

("My nephew, Daniel Fenton." Vlad's hands are possessive on Danny's shoulders. Bruce immediately notices the way the boy tenses under his touch. "His parents passed recently, and as his godfather I was designated his guardian.") ("I'm so sorry, the loss must've been terrible.") ("Yes, carbon-monoxide poisoning caused it. Daniel was out with friends, when he came home... they had already passed.") (Bruce immediately dislikes that Vlad shared the details of their death unprompted -- he likes it even less when Danny flinches at the reminder and hunches into himself.)

Danny runs off at some point earlier into the charity. At this point, parties are still being held at Wayne Manor (because iirc google search mentioned that was a thing at first before it was changed), so he disappears and hides in one of the empty rooms nearby. It just so happens to be the same room Bruce Wayne hides in when he needs a break from all of the socialization.

Thus begins a long, long process of trust. Bruce can't reveal his hand as being smarter than he looks, but he can be compassionate. Kindness needs no measure of intelligence. He keeps Danny company for as long as he can before he runs the risk of being found.

Rinse and repeat. Vlad insistently wants Wayne Industries, and he'll go to as many Wayne parties as he can to get his hooks into the man. The problem is that Bruce Wayne is never alone, and getting him alone is impossible. Finding him too. It's like the man never stops moving. Always talking to someone, always circling somewhere. He orbits around the room as if he isn't the sun of the Gotham Elite's solar system.

Danny's had such repetitive behavior that Vlad never thinks to believe that Bruce Wayne is disappearing to go talk to him. That "Vlad's" son is even interacting with him at all. Danny never gives him a reason to think so, and neither does Bruce.

Danny doesn't actually acknowledge Bruce until a handful of parties in, where he hands Bruce a small slip of paper he smuggled in that says; "don't trust Vlad". Danny's face stays carefully blank, but he's so tense that his hands are trembling, and he's purposely looking away from him. Bruce plasters a smile onto his face, slips the paper into his pocket, and tells him "okay".

(he's been busy with his own goals with the mafia, but he sets aside time to investigate Vlad Masters. He was holding off. Until now.)

Danny does eventually start speaking to Bruce, he's starting to really like the guy. He's starting to see a little hope, even as Vlad is starting to get more and more agitated with him the more he refuses to use his powers.

He reaches out to Sam and Tucker again, and starts trying to reconnect with them. Vlad has spyware on his phone, and he limits the amount of times he can talk to them. A weird parental control lock of some sort that leaves a time limit on how long he can talk to them for. 30 minutes. Danny doesn't tell them anything about Mr. Wayne.

Danny, slowly, wants out of here, and he's slowly gathering the motivation to do it. Vlad is genuinely scaring him -- and Danny wonders just how truthful the past-future Vlad was when he told him that Danny wanted his ghost half separate. He starts trying to come up with an escape plan.

Vlad has anti-ghost wards everywhere around the mansion, and while they're always on, they boost to full power at sunset. The doors and windows are always locked, all main exits have alarms set on them. The only reason it's not super extensive is because Danny hasn't tried leaving at all yet, so Vlad hasn't had to tighten anything.

At night, Vlad locks the door to his room and puts up an anti-ghost ward around the room. The mansion is on the outside westward side of Madison, more entrenched in rural Wisconsin. The closest town is a four-way stop sign with one house on three corners, and an open bar on the fourth. Not much to go.

He refuses to go to Sam and Tucker; Vlad would look there first. It's too dangerous. Vlad would sound alarm bells and have a manhunt looking for him, Danny can't risk going just anywhere. Too much risk of being found, sold out, or caught. There's really nowhere for him to hide.

Until there is. Bruce is telling Danny about the history of Wayne Manor, and says, as casually as saying the weather; "The manor has dozens of empty rooms, I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind filling another one if he could." And quietly, hesitantly, Bruce places a careful hand on Danny's shoulder, unrestrictive and gentle; "He wouldn't mind getting one ready for you if you need one."

And there it is. There's his out.

Danny, just as quietly, replies; "I'll keep that in mind."

The ball starts rolling.

Now I've been trying to summarize this au as much as possible for length convenience, but Vlad has been steadily growing more and more controlling. More emotionally manipulative. More agitated at Danny for not using his powers.

He wants Wayne Industries under his thumb but he's been steadily growing more and more concerned with Danny. He's started grabbing him, yanking him around, shaking him; trying to goad him into using his powers. He gets angry when Danny doesn't react, or tells him he doesn't want to use his powers. He hasn't outright attacked him, but he's getting there. This has been happening over the time it takes for Bruce to indirectly offer Danny sanctuary at his home.

It all comes to a head when Vlad stops going to parties at all -- something Danny has to pretend he isn't upset about -- because Vlad doesn't want him around other people anymore. Vlad rarely goes now without him, and only leaves to go to a Wayne function or to handle something at VladCo.

Danny can't wait for Vlad to leave long enough to escape. So he leaves during the night of a big storm. Vlad's locked him in his room, but Danny doesn't bother trying to go for it; he goes to the alarmed window instead. Danny's been repressing his ghost half so long that he can't access his powers immediately anymore -- he can feel it, he knows its there, but he can't quite reach it.

He breaks the lock by hand.

Immediately the alarm goes off through the entire castle, filling the room with red, and he scrambles for the rope the Wisconsin Ghost left for him a few months back. Danny's already out and climbing down the side of the castle before Vlad even reaches his door -- the only good thing about the entire room being ghost-proof is that Vlad can't get in that way.

The rope ends before it reaches the bottom, and he's still twenty feet in the air. It won't kill him if he lands it right. Danny takes his chances, and drops. He breaks his ankle, but he survives.

And he fucking books it to the back garden. He hears Vlad shrieking over the thunder and rain.

I'll save the full experience for a future oneshot, but Danny makes it out into the nearby woods and forcibly experiences what it's like to be in a horror game, trying to hide from the thing that's hunting you. There's only one thing going through his mind; "i'm going to die"

I have this mental image for this scene. Very stereotypical horror imo. Where Danny is hiding behind a tree, with a hand over his mouth, and Vlad is a few feet away from him, glowing ominously red through the trees, trying to search for him.

Danny doesn't get away from this unscathed, but he does get away alive. That's all he could ask for. He gets away by getting his ghost half awakened long enough to transform into Phantom and fly to Gotham.

But he gets to Wayne Manor, he gets to Bruce. Or, at least, Alfred answers the door from his insistent pounding. Danny's just in tears and Alfred gets him in the living room, wrapped in a towel, with ice on his swollen leg before he has to step out and alert Bruce.

Bruce already breaks multiple traffic laws on a nightly basis. And that's just with the sheer existence of the batmobile itself, not including the speeding and military artillery attached. He breaks double the amount trying to speed back to the cave and get out of the suit.

Right off the bat: Bruce will know, at least before Dick enters the picture, about danny's powers. He'll figure out something considering the fact that Danny traveled from Wisconsin to New York in a single night. That'll be a bit of complicated affair, but I've already got something in mind.

Actually it'll probably be very soon after Danny joins the family, because Bruce tries to offer to fight for custody for Danny - the state Danny was in at arrival is clear enough evidence for a trial. But Danny immediately shuts it down, says it's not going to work and then Vlad will know Danny's with him and he won't be safe. He tells him that Vlad cannot know Danny was with Bruce.

Danny's biggest regret was not telling his parents he was a halfa, and while he doesn't want to tell mister wayne (yet), he does tell him about Vlad being one. He needs to know why Danny can't be seen with Bruce. So he tells him, and Danny's current plan is to just hide out from Vlad until he turns 18. That way, he has no more legal jurisdiction over him. After that? He's not sure.

And to wrap this up, since this has already gotten very long and I can make more posts about this au later; I've thought about it, and I'm going to say that Danny does become a vigilante before Dick enters the scene. He goes by, as you probably guessed; Nightingale. "Gale" for short.

[smallblueandloud]

i have to go to bed very soon so instead i'm lying here being overcome by clintasha emotions

[teambyler]

My video "A LAWYER'S EVIDENCE that Mike and Will become a romantic pair in Stranger Things" is out!

Many of you have followed me ( @teambyler ) or read my essays analyzing Byler (I've linked some of the most-shared ones below). I am actually also a LAWYER who has a YouTube channel called RONALD OFF THE RECORD, and I just released my big video on Byler! (I also have another YouTube channel with 45K subscribers that I mention in the video)

I'm prepared to put my professional reputation as a lawyer on the line to comment on a piece of science fiction, because goddammit this is important to me! It is not "delusional" to think Will and Mike will become a couple, and there is nothing wrong with you if want it to happen! This is a video essay I've been planning for at least SIX MONTHS, and I put a lot of work into it. Please share, and please leave comments. Enjoy! =D

0:00 Why this video 1:38 Hate for Byler on the internet 10:16 Case for Mileven 15:21 Case for Byler: Starting premises 17:56 If Will were a girl… 25:30 The evidence! 29:05 EXHIBIT A: The Snow Ball 31:34 B: Mike's reactions to El and Will being upset 34:21 C: Season 3 ending montage 39:16 D: Airport reunion 47:51 E: Rink-O-Mania argument 51:28 F: Heteronormativity, audience expectations 58:25 G: Throwing away the letter 59:55 H: 2nd heart-to-heart scene 1:05:43 I: Mike can't say he loves El 1:13:27 J: Platonic reunion 1:15:12 K: Will's role convincing Mike to say "I love you" 1:20:08 L: Effect of the "love confession" on El 1:39:54 M: The Painting Lie 1:43:22 Honorable mentions 1:45:27 Non-diegetic evidence 2:01:23 Actor statements 2:10:34 NOT how you write an unrequited love story 2:16:07 Why Byler SHOULD happen (queerbaiting, etc.) 2:28:21 A more powerful story 2:35:45 A personal note

I'm now making this my new pinned post, so I'll list a few of my posts here for people to check out.

ADDITIONS: -28:00 On "We should normalize same-sex friends being affectionate, they don't have to be gay," I should have been clearer. HOMOPHOBIA is the reason for that stigma. Straight friends feeling like they can be affectionate in our society HAS to include normalizing LGBT+ people. -1:16:55 I should've said this more clearly: Will reminded Mike that who HE is, HIS unique qualities, make him worthy of love and make El love him, not dumb luck. And Will of course could convey that because Will loves the actual nerd MIke and everything he is. -1:17:06 Mike making El "not feel like a mistake" doesn't fit El, because she says that Mike looks at her "like I'm a monster, too". Nor did she "push you away because she was afraid of losing you". That's Will, not El. Mike felt love because Will was describing himself. -1:52:36 I forgot to mention that, in the original Nina opera, Nina's lover is ALIVE and DOES return. The Duffers changed the story so that Nina's lover does NOT return, to further suggest Mike won't return! -2:35:22 I'm kicking myself for not being more specific about Mike and Will being heroes in more than one way: I think the theme of bullying from s1 will return, with Will (and also Mike) having to face bullying for being boyfriends in Hawkins.

EDIT: I hit 1000 subs, only to discover THIS VIDEO CANNOT BE MONETIZED. ='( I think I put over 100 hours of work in this video, and this isn't sustainable for me unless I get support. This also means I can't make public videos with the same quality -- using show clips and music makes a stronger impact. I've considered deleting and reposting an edit, but that would losing all the wonderful comments and CUTTING OUT THE LAST SCENE. ='( ='( ='( NO. FUCKING. WAY.

So this is what'll happen: future videos NOT use clips and music to the same extent, except versions I post on my Patreon. And I need Patrons because I don't make money as a social-justice lawyer, and rely on that plus YouTube ads. Here's the Patreon link! (Any future video will be clipped, with the full version on Patreon) https://www.patreon.com/c/theruleslawyer

Some other @teambyler posts:

Mike was saying "I love you" to Will

Questions to ask if ever you have Byler doubt

How the Duffers have set Will up to have a happy ending in Season 5

The most heartbreaking way Byler can culminate (and how I predict it will) (I know this is less likely than an "escape from Camazotz" possession scenario, but I still want this to happen =D )

How the Duffers likely will make the general audience AWARE of Byler and CHEER for Byler

-teambyler

[natsaffection]

heyy this is my first time making a request and idk if it's okay but what if reader is like an anti-hero or villian and when reader gets hurt she shoves up to Natasha's apartment thinking she would maybe help her? idk if it works but I've been thinking about something like this and it would be great if you actually write itt😭😭😭

Lines crossed. | N.R

Avenger!Natasha x AntiHero!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Gore and injurys

Word Count: 2,6k

A/N: These are the stories I like the most. 🙏🏻 And I feel honored, that I can write your first ever request! 🏆

The city of New York was no stranger to chaos, but in recent months, a new shadow had begun to loom over its streets. This shadow was not the kind of evil the Avengers were used to dealing with..This was different. And this, was you, a name whispered in fear among the criminal underworld, a vigilante with a taste for vengeance and a history stained with blood.

You had risen to the top of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted list, a place usually reserved for supervillains and global threats. Your methods were brutal and unyielding, your sense of justice unwavering. To some, you were a hero. To others, a menace. But to the Avengers, you were a problem that needed solving.

“Another one,” Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, murmured as she stood over the lifeless body of a notorious gang leader, his blood pooling around him in a grotesque halo. “It’s her again.”

Clint joined her, shaking his head. “She’s getting bolder. This is the third one this week.” Natasha's eyes scanned the scene, taking in the familiar hallmarks of your handiwork. The precision, the brutality, the unmistakable sense of finality. "She’s not hiding anymore. She wants us to know it’s her."

Nick Fury appeared behind them, his expression unreadable as ever. "We need to bring her in. She's crossed too many lines, and now the media's starting to pick up on it. The last thing we need is a vigilante making us look incompetent."

Natasha nodded, her mind already running through the many encounters she’d had with you. Each one had been a battle of wills, fists, and wits. You were good, damn good. But Natasha was determined to be better.

You wiped the blood from your hands, your breathing steadying as you looked at the man you'd just eliminated. He had been a monster, a predator preying on the weak and innocent. You felt no remorse. In your eyes, justice had been served.

You knew the Avengers were close. You could feel their presence like a storm on the horizon. Especially Natasha. Your fights had become a dance of sorts, each trying to outmaneuver the other, each knowing that one day it would come down to a final, decisive confrontation.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you from your thoughts. You glanced at the message: another target, another mission. Your work was never done.

Back at the Avengers' headquarters, the team gathered around a holographic display of the city, pinpointing the locations of your recent activities. "We need to be strategic," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. "She’s not just any criminal. She’s trained, skilled, and she's got a mission."

Natasha’s eyes never left the display. She knew you better than most. She understood your motivations, your drive. And she knew that stopping you would require more than just brute force.

"It’s personal for her," Natasha said quietly. "And if we’re going to bring her in, we need to understand why she’s doing this." The team nodded, each member resolving to bring an end to your bloody crusade. But for Natasha, it was more than just another mission. It was a challenge, a test of her skills and resolve.

You moved through the city like a ghost, your mind focused on the task at hand. You knew the Avengers were watching, waiting. You relished the challenge. Each encounter with Natasha had pushed you to be better, sharper.

But you also knew that the game couldn’t go on forever. One day, it would come to an end. One way or another.As you prepared for your next mission, you couldn't help but wonder: when that day came, who would be the one standing? You or Natasha?

The city was alive with the sounds of sirens and distant traffic, but your focus was razor-sharp. You moved through the shadows, your target's location clear in your mind. You knew the Avengers were closing in, but you thrived on the edge, where danger and adrenaline fused into one intoxicating rush.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your target, a corrupt businessman with ties to multiple criminal organizations. You slipped past his security with ease, your movements precise and silent. As you stood over him, your eyes cold and unyielding, you knew this would send another message to the underworld and the Avengers alike.

Just as you were about to strike, the window shattered, and Natash swung in, landing gracefully on her feet, guns drawn. "Y/n, this ends now," Natasha said, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency. You smirked, stepping back to assess the new threat. "You always know how to make an entrance, Romanoff."

The two of you circled each other, the tension thick in the air. You made the first move, lunging forward with a series of rapid strikes. Natasha countered, your fists and feet a blur of motion. Each move was calculated, each strike intended to find a weakness.

The fight spilled into the hall, your movements fluid and fierce. You were relentless, your skills honed by years of training and combat. But Natasha was no less formidable, her experience and agility a match for your raw power.

In a desperate bid to escape, you knocked over a set of shelves, creating a momentary barrier. You dashed down the corridor, but your path was blocked by Steve. "Going somewhere?" Steve asked, raising his shield.

You didn’t hesitate. You launched yourself at him, your attacks relentless. Steve defended himself with his shield, but your sheer ferocity pushed him back. You knew you had to move fast. Every second counted.

A blast of energy struck the ground near you, and you turned to see Tony Stark hovering in his Iron Man suit. "You’re surrounded. Give it up."

With a quick glance, you calculated your options. You grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher, using it to create a cloud of smoke. In the confusion, you darted through a side door, your escape route planned to the last detail.

In the aftermath, the Avengers regrouped, frustration evident in their expressions. "She’s good," Clint said, rubbing his bruised arm. "We almost had her."

"Almost isn’t good enough," Tony replied, scanning the area for any sign of you. "She’s always one step ahead." Natasha looked at the ground, her mind replaying the fight. She admired your tenacity and skill, but she also knew that each encounter brought them closer to a dangerous tipping point.

"We need to change our approach," Natasha said. "She’s playing a game of survival. We need to make her see that we’re not the enemy." Steve nodded. "Agreed. We need to understand her motivations. If we can reach her, maybe we can end this without more bloodshed."

Weeks turned into months, and the chase between you and Natasha became legendary among the Avengers. Your reputation as a formidable adversary was solidified, but so was Natasha's determination to bring you in. Every encounter became a game of wits and skill, a deadly dance with an undercurrent of something more.

One night, Natasha found herself on a stakeout at a high-end nightclub. Her sources had tipped her off about a major criminal deal going down. She knew you would be there, drawn to the opportunity like a moth to a flame. Natasha blended into the crowd, her eyes scanning for any sign of her elusive target.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. "Looking for someone?" your familiar, flirty voice whispered in her ear. Natasha spun around to find you, dressed to kill and wearing a mischievous grin.

"Yes, you." Natasha said, her voice steady despite the surprise. "You're getting bold." You chuckled, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "And you're getting predictable, Romanoff. I knew you'd be here."

Natasha moved closer, lowering her voice. "This ends tonight. You're coming with me." You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Are you asking me out on a date, or is this another one of your attempts to arrest me?"

Natasha couldn't help but smirk. "Depends on how you look at it." Before Natasha could react, you leaned in, your lips brushing Natasha's ear as you whispered, "Catch me if you can." Then, with a swift movement, you disappeared into the crowd.

Natasha's heart raced as she pursued you through the crowded club. The thrill of the chase was intoxicating, and she couldn't deny the electric connection between you. You were always one step ahead, leaving clues and taunts that kept Natasha on her toes.

The chase led them to the club's rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath them. You stood at the edge, the wind whipping through your hair. Natasha approached slowly, her eyes locked on you.

"You can't keep running forever.“ Natasha said, her voice a mix of determination and something softer. You turned to face her, your expression unreadable. "I'm not running, Natasha. I'm fighting. Just like you."

Natasha took a step closer, her heart pounding. "We don't have to be enemies, Y/n.. Let us help you." Your gaze softened, and for a moment, Natasha saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior. "You don't understand. I've crossed too many lines. There's no going back for me."

Natasha reached out, her hand brushing your arm. "It's never too late to make a different choice. You can Trust me.“ You looked at Natasha, your eyes searching for something. Then, with a sigh, you pulled away. "Maybe in another life, Romanoff."

Before Natasha could react, you leaped off the rooftop, landing gracefully on a fire escape below. Natasha rushed to the edge, but you were already disappearing into the night.

—

One fateful evening, you found yourself cornered by a gang of criminals. You fought valiantly, but the numbers were overwhelming. By the time the dust settled, you were grievously wounded. Blood soaked your clothes, and every step sent waves of agony through your body.

Desperation set in as you stumbled through the dark alleys. You knew going to a hospital was out of the question. The police would arrest you on sight, and SHIELD agents were everywhere. You tried to treat your wounds in an abandoned building, using whatever you could find. With shaking hands, you attempted to stitch a deep gash on your side, but the pain was too intense and your vision blurred.

Realizing the severity of your injuries and your inability to treat them alone, you remembered, „You can Trust me.“ You had placed a small tracking device on Natasha’s shoe during one of your fights, anticipating you might need to find her someday.

The rain pelted the city in relentless sheets, washing away the grime of the day. You stood in front of Natasha's apartment door, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You leaned heavily against the frame, your vision swimming. Despite the pain, you forced a playful smile onto your lips. You had to get inside. You had to see Natasha.

With a trembling hand, you knocked on the door. It felt like an eternity before it finally swung open. Natasha stood there, her expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"How did you find me?" Natasha asked, her voice cold. You tried to straighten up, wincing as you did. "Miss me already, Romanoff?" you said, your voice weak but carrying a hint of flirtation. "Couldn't stay away.."

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here. Why are you here?" Ignoring the question, you leaned against the doorframe, your legs barely holding you up. "Thought I'd drop by... see your lovely face," you managed, your vision beginning to darken around the edges.

Natasha's patience snapped. She grabbed her phone, her fingers quickly dialing S.H.I.E.L.D.'s number. "Enough with the games. I'm done with this."

Your heart sank, your body swaying. You tried to take a step forward but stumbled, your strength failing. You collapsed into Natasha, who caught you out of reflex. As your full weight pressed against her, Natasha's eyes widened in horror. Blood soaked through your clothes, warm and sticky, covering Natasha's hands.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her phone slipping from her fingers as she cradled your limp body. "Y/n, what happened??" Your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to stay open. "Guess I... pushed it too far this time..“ you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Natasha quickly assessed the situation, her mind racing. "We need to get you inside.“ she said, her tone urgent. She half-carried, half-dragged you into the apartment, laying you on the couch. Blood pooled on the floor, and Natasha's hands shook as she grabbed her first aid kit.

"Stay with me, Y/n," Natasha urged, tearing open your shirt to reveal a deep, gaping wound along your side. The sight of old scars crisscrossing your chest made Natasha's heart clench. "God, what did you do?!“

She worked quickly, her training kicking in. She poured antiseptic over the wound, her hands moving with practiced precision. Your body trembled with pain, your fingers digging into the couch. "God, that burns," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face. "F-Fuck, Natasha, it h-hurts..“

"I know it does," Natasha said, her voice softening. "But I need you to stay with me. I don't have any narcotics, so this is going to be rough."

Your eyes were glazed with pain, your breathing shallow. "Just do it…" you managed to say. Natasha threaded a needle, her fingers slick with blood. She began to stitch the largest wound, her focus intense. Your body shook with each stitch, your teeth clenched to hold back screams. The raw pain was almost unbearable, and low moans of agony escaped your lips despite your best efforts.

"You're doing great," Natasha said, her own voice trembling. "Just a few more." Your fingers clawed at the couch, your knuckles white. "Natasha... please, hurry," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper.

Natasha's heart ached at the sight of your suffering. "I'm almost done," she said, her tone soothing. "Just hold on a little longer."

Your eyes fluttered, your strength fading fast. "Sorry... for your couch...and for everything," you whispered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. "I never wanted it to be like this.."

Natasha's eyes were full with understanding. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. Right now, I need you to hold on." She finished the stitches, then bandaged the wounds as best she could. Your body relaxed slightly, your breathing still labored but more steady.

"It's done," Natasha said, sitting back and wiping her forehead. "You're going to be okay." Your eyes closed, exhaustion overtaking you. Natasha grabbed a blanket and covered you, then sat beside you, holding your hand gently. "I'm here," Natasha whispered. "You're safe now. Rest and we’re sorting everything tomorrow out, okay?"

You whimpered softly, your body shaking from the pain and the cold. Natasha gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, her expression tender. "I never thought I'd see you like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes fluttered open, focusing on Natasha with difficulty. "Guess... I can't always be the strong one.“ you murmured, a weak smile playing on your lips.

Natasha's heart tightened. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she said softly. "It's okay to let someone help you." You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting closed again. "Thank you, Natasha.“ you whispered.

Natasha squeezed your hand gently, "You're going to be alright," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to you."

As she sat there, watching over you, Natasha knew that this was a turning point. You had come to her for help, and that meant there was still hope. She would find a way to bring you back from the edge, no matter what it took.

Part 2

[arc-misadventures]

Whom do you Relate?

Winter: Jaune, can I ask you something?

Jaune: What is it?

Winter: Among the, Specialists there is a tradition of sorts that we ask our newest members; This question is meant to help us gage the mentality of our newest members. Would you care to answer this question for me?

Jaune: Oh, newest member? Am I being drafted into the, Specialist?

Winter: No, you're... Well, if you're interested I could put in a word with, General Ironwood for you. I told him about your reasoning for seeking to destroy the, Karnivair, and how you planned, and managed to destroy the, Karniviar within a matter of minutes. General Ironwood was most impressed. He would be honoured to have a, Huntsman like you under his service.

Jaune: Oh...

Jaune looked to the side as he took in, and contemplated the words that, Winter had spoken.

Jaune: Thank you, Winter... I'll think about it...

Joining the, Specialist's? Jaune couldn't help, but contemplate the possibility of, joining, Winter, and becoming a, Specialist. Maybe after she was dead he could join...

Jaune: So... what is this question you wish to ask?

Winter: The question we ask new, Specialist members is this: 'What fictional character do you most relate to?'

Jaune: Fictional characters? Why fictional characters, and not some historical figure instead?

Winter: It's fictional characters because it is easier for a person to relate to a fictional character than a real person. A fictional character can be changed, and molded to fit a person interests, desires, and character beliefs. But, a real person is already set in stone, they are who they are. So, we ask what fictional character a new recruit feels like they can relate to as a way to gage their potential, and mind set. So tell me, Jaune: 'What fictional character do you most relate to?'

Jaune looked away from, Winter once more as his contemplated her question before coming to a rather peculiar answer to her question.

Jaune: Before I answer... Who did you most relate to?

Winter: M-Me...?! Well... I-I most related to... The Rusted Knight...

Jaune: The Rusted Knight? The character from the children's book story?

Winter: It is my favourite book okay! I've always like the, Rusted Knight so I always related to him...

Jaune: Can you tell me why?

Winter: Well... Alyx was always protected by the, Rusted Knight. He didn't do it because he wanted anything, but because he wanted to protect her, because it was the right thing to do. And, I feel like that is what I should do, as a Huntress, and even more so as a, Specialist. So.. I relate, and feel inspired to be like the, Rusted Knight. You know...?

Jaune: Ha... Now that's cute...

Winter: C-C-Cute?!

Winter's face was flushed red from embarrassment as she stuttered out her indignation at, Jaune. A soft smile playing across his face as he watched her.

Winter: Excuse me! How is me finding the, Rusted Knight relatable cute?!

Jaune: Well... when I look at you, Winter... It always feel like you're... far off...

Winter: 'Far off?'

Jaune: Distant. Closed off. You are a reserved person by habit, Winter. You're upbringing, and military training made you a quiet, and reserve person. To know that you relate to a character from a children's book makes you feel more human. And... And, it's cute to think of you as a little girl looking up to the, Rusted Knight. A cute little girl looking up to her hero. Isn't that such a nice thought?

Winter's face was flush red as a raging blush spread across her face. She muttered a dew words as she look away from, Jaune.

Winter: N-Now you're just making fun of me...

Jaune: Oh, only just a little.

Winter: Jerk...

Jaune: Haha...

Jaune chuckled softly as he looked out on the frozen tundra of, Atlas.

Winter: Do you... relate to the, Rusted Knight as well?

Jaune: Hmmm... Well... I've always had this weird feeling about the, Rusted Knight... I relate to him... but it doesn't feel like I relate to him as a character, but it feels more... familiar... familial relation...

Winter: Familial? Like a brother?

Jaune: Something like that, but... different. I don't know how to explain it, Winter. Its always just felt that way ever since my mom first read me the story about the, Rusted Knight. I never understood it myself, it just felt that way.

Winter: That's... interesting... In that case, back to my original question: 'What fictional character do you relate to most?'

Jaune: Hmmm...

Jaune's mind went back to her question, and he came back to a simple answer. But, Jaune doubted, Winter would understand.

Jaune: I... I don't relate to anyone... anything...

Winter: Nothing? You feel like you don't relate to anyone?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: I don't think so... I never felt like I did... I was inspired by stories of knights; slaying the monster, rescuing the princess, saving the day, stories like that... I mean look at me, I'm a literal knight in shinning armour. Oh...?

Winter: 'Oh?' What's, 'oh?'

Jaune: I guess I relate to the ideal of a knight in shinning white armour. That was a childhood dream of mine, to become the knight in shinning white armour, just like in the stories. But, reality has dulled it's allure, and luster. It's hard to see yourself as the knight in shinning white armour when your armour is covered in mud, and blood...

Jaune look down looking down at his gauntlet, notice now, how much it could do with a cleaning.

Jaune: Well... I'll let others seem me as the knight in shinning white armour... I'll make sure they live long enough to be seen that way.

Jaune clenched his fist, and squeezed it as he made this silent vow to himself. All the while he was unaware as, Winter stared on at him. Shaking her head as she dispelled the scarlet blush creeping across her face.

Jaune: So, does that answer your question, Winter?

Winter: Yes... That answers it beautifully.

Jaune: B-Beautifully? Why did you answer it like that?

Winter: A childhood dream ,and the desire to live it out even when the world throws everything it has at you; That's such a beautiful thought, isn't it?

Jaune: Hmm... I suppose it is...

Winter walked aver to, Jaune her hands behind her back as a radiant smile flashed across his face.

Winter: So, Jaune... I will ask, General Ironwood about the possibility of you becoming a, Specialist. You don't have to say yes, just think on it, okay?

Jaune: Okay. I'll give it some thought.

Winter: Good!

Winter walked past, Jaune before turning on her heel to stare back at him.

Winter: And, if you become a, Specialist... I'll become your new partner!

Jaune: Uhhh... what?

Winter: Tee-hee~!

Winter tilted her head, and winked at him before leaving, leaving a stunned, Jaune just standing there trying to comprehend what had just happened.

Jaune: ...?!

Jaune: The hell...?!

: Oh~? I think she likes you, Jaune.

Jaune turned on the spot to see the ghostly visage of, Pyrrha Nikos standing before him.

Jaune: W-Winter Schnee... l-l-l-likes... me?!

Pyrrha: Yep~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Bullshit...

[artsekey]

Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

 When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”).  She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too!  Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

              What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

              But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

              In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

              While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.  

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

              But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

            It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

 But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

              Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

              It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

              They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

 The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

[khattikeri]

genderbending svsss is a really interesting mental exercise.

let's say PIDW is still meant to be a jerkoff fuel harem novel, but luo binghe is its female protagonist.

there are many ways this can go. instead of being a zero-to-hero male revenge fantasy, PIDW could instead have our plucky yet bright MC luo binghe, dogged by misfortune, slowly turn dumber and bustier with every arc. the plot eventually disappears entirely so she can stumble into trouble and get fucked (with widely varying levels of consent) by different attractive men.

it'd be a misogynistic, pornographic logical nightmare that ignores any interesting worldbuilding. peerless cucumber melons ragequits at the end and the new shen qingqiu begins lesbian mommy hours. but as shen yuan fills plotholes, it becomes apparent that luo binghe didn't legitimately turn dumb.

her bimbofication was a defense mechanism of her own-- in a sense, that IS her equivalent of blackening, because nobody will care or bother to help her unless she gives them a taste of her body in exchange. her shizun and the rest of righteous human society hated her from day one. it's a hypocritical madonna-whore complex society out there, and luo binghe will never be accepted as a pure or good maiden. why not just collect men who might dote on her a little?

unlike a male luo binghe, who embraces his demonic side to chase after the masculine ideal of powerful domination, a female luo binghe might cling to her whatever remains of her own humanity, and in doing so atrophy in pursuit of a useless ideal of submission.

her manipulation is playacted mindlessness. she won't ever reach the top of anything meaningful. but that doesn't matter, because this PIDW isn't about girlboss girlwin. it's still male gaze-y porn. the story maintains a thin veneer of framing luo binghe collecting men while staying submissive to them in bed as "her own power", but in truth, she has utterly and completely given up.

being taken advantage of is totally power! appearing unwilling, naive, virginal, and shy is power. she's just a girl... who happens to be half-heavenly demon, and fetishized like hell for it by anyone who knows. her place in the world can't be on the top; that's too ambitious and demonic for a girl like her. her place will be beneath someone else, and she can live with that. she can learn to like it anyway, what with the universe itself conspiring to make her have sex everywhere she goes.

she'll never get the love and care she really craves. so why bother trying to struggle and think and fight for it?

(a moment of silence for the bleak picture i've painted.)

anyway, after shen qingqiu's qi deviation and strange personality shift, i imagine luo binghe would become far less apathetic (and far less interested in men). she'd become closer to the cunning yet sweet and softhearted powerhouse we know her as. and in her desperation to not be thrown away, she'd go to any lengths to prove herself...

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I've been rereading I Hate The New Hero over and over. I love it so much! But while I was reading chapter three again and an idea hit me.

What if, on his way over to the toy chest, Tim's foot caught on a floor board?

He's able to immediately recognize that this floor board looks as if it's been pulled up multiple times due to some wearing down along the edges. He thinks he's just found some super secret area where you keep something you don't want anyone to find. So he lifts the board.

And immediately sets the board back in place again, gently because he's having a dissociative panic attack. Tim goes to leave, gets confronted by reader's father, and gets shocked out of his episode when he calls you a slut.

Tim is grabbing this man's hand and twisting the guy into a police hold and pressing, pressing, pressing til the guy is on his knees, then with his forehead to the floor. The reason he doesn't just slam the man down is because it could wake you up. With as little noise as possible, the father is on the floor with both arms behind his back practically licking the dirty boards beneath them.

And Tim whispers -no hisses!- into the quiet of this tiny apartment.

"If I ever see, or hear, about you calling her that ever again, Gotham will keep finding your body. I'll even start with those rotten fingers you use to communicate. Do you understand me?"

The man was chocking on shock.

Tim wanted a fucking answer.

"I said, Do. You. Under. Stand. Me." Tim punctuated the sentence with violent shaking of this man.

Reader's father nods frantically.

Tim let's him go. Takes a step back. His chest is heaving in rage. How dare this low life talk about you like this?

(How hypocritical of him, Tim vaguely criticizes himself. After all, he would have probably joined in on mocking you, or just walked out the door, if he hadn't seen what was under the loose floor board.)

Tim is still seething.

"I understand why your throat was cut. You must have made enough enemies yapping lies as if they were true. It makes me sick to leave you with even one of your digits. Let alone, all of them. But [Name] would get stressed or cry if I hurt her family. So, until I can convince her to leave this hell hole, you will not sign or glare at her. Even once. And don't tell her about this. At all. I still need to get a room ready, and I can't have you spoil her surprise."

Tim knows he has JJ's smile right now. His manic eyes boring into the man. Who was trying to prop himself up or curl into a ball; Tim couldn't tell which. All that really mattered was the man was looking at him. Tim's body was jittering from holding back laughter.

Aranea's suit was the most damning thing he could probably find. Tim had to mull over whether to believe you were the hero he viewed as a sister, or if you were someone else entirely.

Of course, Tim hates the thought he treated his sister so awfully. But! There's the chance you're not her! Maybe you're her friend?

Oh! You have a scholarship for engineering. You make Aranea's tech.

Well, if that's the case, he can see about getting you away from here so you're able to make better gear. Which explains Aranea backing out of patrol tonight! If [Name] isn't there to be her person in the chair, Aranea probably didn't feel comfortable going out.

You're probably Aranea's friend on top of that. She may even think of you as a sister! After all, she probably trusts you with her identity so you could make the custom suit. And all her tech.

Which also means that all your supposed hate was just a way to disguise the fact that you know her.

Of course.

No one could actually hate the spider hero, she's too sweet.

So you're behavior was you trying to protect her.

Tim is manic with joy at being one step closer to getting to know his sister. If that means becoming friends with you, it won't be hard.

He forgets to tell Bruce.

Tim greets the reader warmly the next day, saying about how she's not so bad once he ignored her being mean about Aranea. He then makes a comment calling the reader a Tsudere.

Bruce still threatens the reader and Tim freaks out about her skipping school to help Aranea with a day patrol. He then finds out what Bruce and Damian did and spams them to apologize.

Holy shit, Aranea is probably pissed at the Wayne's now! First with Tim being hostile, then Bruce and Damian. They were picking on her tech engineer and Aranea had to go release steam from being so angry.

Him just furiously texting, explaining that he found out reader was the creator behind Aranea's tech and the hater behavior was to protect her identity.

But he's only texting them, not the group chat. So no one else knows. Jason goes to give the letter letting go her mother and Dick still pours ice water on her. Which Tim, Bruce, and Damian find out through the chat. And promptly lose it.

(Excuse me, I'm very out of it right now but still wanted to send this to you. Have a lovely day!)

I love this!! It's been in my inbox for a while and I keep reading over it and forgetting to respond 💔

When Y/N wakes up she'll be in for a shock, her dad is avoiding her??? The stuff in her floorboard is slightly skewed??? Oh... Lucky her.

Tim greets her warmly and acts oblivious? She's holding back her punch right now, the nerve he has.

Then, she slowly realizes, Tim isn't treating her like he does Aranea, something's different. Surely he can't be that dense, right?

I think eventually Y/N confronts him on it, asking him what he thinks the connection between her and Aranea is. When he answers Y/N's shoulders literally drop.

Tech.. Engineer..? That could work, she guesses. But, she doubts the theory will last for long - she can't be in two places at once.

[8em-em-em8]

After that last chapter I've got an idea where Izuku and Katsuki ends up as acquaintance more that real friends over the years because post canon Katsuki tries to put distance in between them to try to move on. Izuku often thinks about him and what they had but thinks the fact that they fell apart is more because they are both busy with their jobs than anything else. Doesn't realise he broke Katsuki's heart and no one tells him (they know, they just don't want to get murdered by Bakugo/make it worse since Midorya apparently chose Ochaco).

Bakugo gets married 2 years later, his partner is a fellow hero, a man, and he becomes a bit of a queer icon because of course Bakugo takes no bullshit. But yeah, most informations Izuku gets about Bakugo are either on the news or second hand from their mutual friends (Dynamight's affiliated to high risks fights missions and Deku more of a rescue guy now, helping when he can, so they don't meet often on the field).

Until one day several years later, Izuku has been living alone for a year, since he broke up with Ochaco, and someone is at the door at 9pm.

Opening the door is like a punch in the face : Katsuki looks tired, and his eyes are red rimmed, and even if Izuku hasn't seen him do so often in his life, it's obvious he cried. He has a big bag thrown over one of his shoulder, and on the other is resting the head of a sleeping toddler.

Izuku's only seen the baby in pictures before but she has the same face as her father even though her hair are a strong black rather than an untameable blond mop.

''Kacchan?''

''Hey nerd.'' Katsuki sounds embarrassed, but maybe too tired to be angry about it. ''I know we- I know we're not really friends anymore but... Can we crash here tonight?''

You don't have to ask Izuku twice, and maybe he doesn't understand yet, but he doesn't hesitate one second before taking Katsuki to his room.

''You sure?'' Katsuki hesitates on the threshold. ''Were are you going to sleep?''

''I'm sure. There is not enough space on the futon for two person and I'm pretty sure you'll want to stay with her. Haru, right?''

For a second, Katsuki looks at him and it's maybe the first time Izuku gets to see such a heartbreaking emotion on his face. He looks thankful, maybe even fond, but also profoundly sad.

''... Yeah, her name is Haru.'' he confirms, kissing her little forehead- and isn't that a sight. ''Forgot you never seen her before.'' Katsuki adds before putting a knee to the bed and carefully bending down to put his daughter on the wall side of the bed. The little girl doesn't stir, and after making sure she's well tucked, Katsuki follows Izuku out.

He let the door half open, probably to be sure to hear if Haru wakes up before he goes to bed.

They end up on the couch, Katsuki with his head in his hand. And Izuku is struck by how much he doesn't know his childhood friend anymore when he goes to rub his back but holds back, not sure how it will be received.

''Do you want to talk about it?'' he asks.

For a second silence rings in the appartement, only broken by the sound of the fridge, but then Katsuki's shoulder start to tremble and just like that he is crying again.

''I made a mistake.'' He says, voice rough while he rubs furiously at his eyes. ''I made a huge fucking mistake. I should have known, we should have talked about it, I should have seen the signs-''

When Izuku sees Katsuki's fists starting to fizzle, little tendrils of smoke escaping from between his clenched fingers, it's like all caution flies out the window : he immediately grads them, trying to soothe his friend.

''Kacchan.''

''I'm divorcing my husband.'' Katsuki spits, and here is the anger. The hate is so clear in his tear soaked eyes that even tho Izuku himself never men him, he despites the man instantly.

''Did he... Did he cheat on you?'' Izuku tries, wanting to understand.

Katsuki's laugh is bitter and cold.

''If only.'' he rubs at his eyes again, but then he puts his hand back in Izuku's and Izuku is embarrassed to feel warmth at that gesture, to see that even after all these years, he can still be a source of comfort for Kacchan. ''This afternoon we... We learned that Haru is quirkless.''

Oh.

Oh.

Izuku feels like he was doused with an ice water bucket. Involuntarily his fingers clench on Katsuki's hand.

''What happened?'' he asks, not even sure he's ready for the answer.

''Ueda he- it's like I didn't know him anymore. He started to shout at everyone, he insulted the doctor, called our surrogate mother all the names he could think of, as if it was her fault. As there was any fault to have.'' Izuku can feel his eyes fill with tears, his eyes bored into Katsuki's panicked ones. ''I swear 'Zuku, I tried to talk to him about it, I fucking swear. But he didn't want to hear anything, he- he called Haru useless. I thought she was in her room, I didn't want her to hear all that shit but she came out to ask for a drink and he just pointed at her and said he wouldn't have an useless kid.'' another sob breaks Katsuki's voice and now they are both gripping at each other. Their clenched hands are uncomfortable with sweat but it's the last of Izuku's problems, because right now Katsuki needs him. ''I swear she's the only reason I didn't kill him on the spot. I just took her overnight bag and we left. You were the only person I could think of.''

Izuku nods, and hesitantly he lifts a hand, just a suggestion, but Katsuki doesn't seems to think about it long before Izuku is engulfed in a desperate hug. He can feel that Katsuki is still crying, he knows it's better not to say anything about it. Instead Izuku rocks his friend, just a little.

''You did good. The both of you can stay as long as you want.''

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Hey, saw your new story and I love how you write. Do you do yandere requests? If so, how about doing a Legend story paired with an isekai reader that looks shockingly like Marin? She fell into Wild’s world and tried to help him get rid of Calamity Ganon and now she’s stuck in a love triangle between Wild and Legend. Woe is her! /lh

Thank you!

Aaa, my first request! I'm really glad you liked my writing and I hope you like this too!

EDIT (like five months later mind you): So I've been neglecting this request because the only yandere content I've written has been wildly non-con and generally pretty frightening, but I think I've finally found a way to get the best of both worlds <333

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard Place

Pairing: Legend x isekai!reader x Wild

Warning(s): Yandere behavior/unhealthy perceptions of relationships, dub/non-con, and smut (fem reader b/c requested)

Notes: FINALLY my first request has been finished. Rejoice my brethren

Masterlist

You knew they were watching you. 

Dusk had barely fallen, the golden rays of the setting sun bathing the clearing in a thick tangerine light. The fire crackled as you unrolled your bedroll, gently patting it down and trying to ignore the twin gazes burning into your back, belonging to none other than Legend and Wild. While the reason behind their incessant watching eluded you, it was clear that they weren’t going to stop anytime soon. 

You took a seat on the bedding, gaze flitting around the clearing as the other members of the chain prepared for sleep. Dinner–hearty clam chowder, courtesy of you and Wild’s efforts–had concluded minutes earlier, leaving you full and satisfied after a long day of traveling. 

Not that you weren’t used to life on the road, having lived in Wild’s world for a good three years after waking up, alone and scared, in a grassy field–where you met when he saved you from a guardian. With nowhere else to go, you had joined Wild in his quest to defeat Ganon, though he hardly let you do any defeating considering your limited combat knowledge. The rest was history, as was your inexperience with a sword, thanks to another member of your rag-tag group, Legend. Once ornery and sarcastic, he had warmed up to you significantly quickly after you fell (literally and figuratively) into his world through, you guessed it, another portal. 

But, as of late, things had been… strange. It was no secret that you and Wild shared a close bond from the years spent together, and while nothing had ever become of such closeness, you always felt that there was something more behind his casual touches and glittering grins, not to mention the way he always seemed to pout when your attention was stolen by something or someone else. It got particularly bad when Legend would sidle up to you during the long treks, claiming you were their “weakest link” in a snarky tone while somehow managing to be good company through the ordeal, though sometimes you wondered if the stories he told of his adventures were a bit… exaggerated. You weren’t an overly distrustful person by any means, but doing five separate dungeons in one day seemed excessive even for (one of) the heroes of Hyrule. 

You suppressed another shiver as Legend’s gaze seemed to burn a hole through you, slicing past skin, muscle, and bone to examine your very soul. If his burned, then Wild’s seared, like you were a piece of meat in a pan. 

It was for protection, you reasoned; weakly, pleadingly. There were countless creatures loose in the woods, and you were close to the treeline.

The campfire crackled. You wished it would grow tall enough to obscure you from their gazes.

Setting down the fabric, you patted your knees and stood up. "I'm going on a walk."

"'S gettin' dark, darlin'," Twilight said from his place against a nearby tree, casting a suspicious glance at the approaching night, brows furrowed. Wild and Legend's gaze left you for a split second, and you felt sick at the way they glared at the Rancher; united and divided in equal, terrible measures.

Several heads nodded in agreement.

You bit your lip. Fuck, he was right. You couldn't even use the excuse of needing fresh air because that was all you had been getting–you were in the middle of nowhere, for Hylia's sake!

"I'll go with you," Wild's voice cut through the still air like a knife. His eyes were bluer than the holy steel of Sky's blade, glowing with an almost otherworldly light as he studied you over the licking tendrils of the fire.

Legend dusted the skirt of his tunic-dress, boots crunching over the dead grass as he stood on two feet. Feet that could chase you down in the blink of an eye, and had traversed every nook and cranny of countless nations. "Me too," he spoke softly, with only a fleeting trace of his usual biting sarcasm. There was something devastatingly similar about both of them, and you knew there was no way you could back out now.

The bid was up, and now it was time to reap the rewards.

Your legs felt as wobbly as a newborn foal when you began to walk, knowing they would be two steps behind you. Past Warriors (concerned, eyes never leaving the hunch of your shoulders), Wind (oblivious, but not blind), Four (kaleidoscope of caring, not stepping in), and Time (the only Hero who could, though it was a long-standing debate on if he would).

The camp faded as you pressed on, guided only by the frenzied, rattled beat of your heart, and the last fading rays of the blazing sun through the rustling canopy. Fallen leaves crackled beneath your boots, and you felt more high-strung than a puppet. Wild and Legend's stares tore holes in your back, flaying your soul for their perusal and sending dreaded shivers down the metaphorically-exposed bones of your spine.

A huff of breath.

You shoved a lock of rose-red hair behind your ear.

Wild coughed.

The trees seemed to laugh at your cowardice.

Legend's age-ridden, joint-pained sigh was palpable in the chilled air.

Your heels stung from how quickly you whirled to face them.

"What the hell, guys?"

Both men froze. They were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. United. Divided. Legend brushed a lock of strawberry-lemonade bangs behind his pointed ear, gaze measured, while Wild was the picture of the soldier he would never be: stiff, mouth tight, irises alight with an emotion you didn't dare decipher.

The Veteran's huff was gruff, far too casual for someone who watched you like you would disappear into thin air if he turned away for a mere millisecond. "...What are you going on about now? You scared of the dark or something?"

Your fists clenched at your sides, buried in the folds of your borrowed tunic. Was it Wild's? Legend's? You couldn't remember anymore. "I am not," you bit out, a bit harsher than intended. Then: "Is there something on my face?"

"You're perfect," said Wild without missing a damn beat. He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck with an expression that further convinced you that he would never be sorry. He was inching ever closer, as was Legend, and you wondered if sprinting into the darkness would grant you the modicum of space you prayed for.

Perfect? No. Petrified? Hell yes.

Crack.

All eyes snapped to the right, trained on the hazy treeline where the noise had emanated from. You couldn't remember the last time their gaze had left you, but the thought was quickly banished when a rumbling growl rattled the air, drowned out only by the loud shiing as Legend and Wild simultaneously drew their swords.

"Shit," you hissed, just as a gaggle of lizalfos drew from the wandering shadows. They moved like the predators they were; fluidly, without pause, eyes glowing gold in the firebright sunset.

Your heartbeat thudded in your ears when the first lizalfos lunged, lips peeled back to reveal hooked teeth that glinted in the tangerine light. Legend wasted no time parrying the attack with his sword, and Wild wasn't far behind, a hissed war cry slinking from his lips, pulled back to reveal a smaller set of canines that were no less dangerous.

The battle, if it could even be called that, lasted hardly a minute, with you standing to the side in a position that only enhanced the terrifying awkwardness of the situation. Heart in your throat, watching as your companions tore through the hoard like they were flies. Small, buzzing, annoying flies. It was no secret that they were strong–they were heroes, for Hylia's sake!–but there was something to be said about the feral glint in Wild's eyes, or the way Legend would look at you, blood on his hands, throat, sword, and not bat an eyelash.

You shivered, and not from the cold. An urge was building in your gut, not dissimilar from the kind you felt when confronted by an unfathomable horror. But it wasn't the same, not by a long shot.

The lizalfos fell quickly. Several carcasses lay strewn across the blood-soaked ground, slashed at the throat, belly, and face. Their eyes, lifeless, bleak, stared sightlessly at the star-speckled sky as blood wet the fallen leaves.

Wild and Legend turned. Simultaneously. United, but not together. United, but dangerously. United, but in love.

You ran.

Clouds of breath puffed in the chilled air as you tore through the forest, guided by nothing but your own, raging heartbeat. The trees melded into blurs of brown and green, branches stretching skywards like the twisted limbs of an eldritch creature. The ground crunched between your boots, and you could hardly find it in yourself to be mad about the obvious tracks your footwear left behind. Anything to get away, if only for a fleeting, torturous second.

Anything to breathe without the threat of one of them crawling down your throat.

Through the haze of adrenaline, you could barely make out the sounds of footsteps behind you. Barely make out the crazed, frantic huffs. Barely make out the fingers reaching, reaching, reaching for the back of your tunic.

Your heart damn near leapt from your throat when something grazed your back, then locked tight around fluttering fabric, and you were dragged backward, forced to skid to one of the most jarring halts of your life. A scream ripped from your throat, silenced only by the hand–heavy with fat rings, glistening in the faded light–cupped your chin and pressed your jaw closed, while a evergreen-clothed arm wrapped around your stomach. Legend's chest molded against your spine, fully trapping you in his vice-like grip, and you could only jerk uselessly when moist breath fanned over your neck, sending goosebumps skittering down the chilled skin of your arms.

"Why'd you run?" Legend breathed, tone heavy with the thrill of the chase. More breath hissed over your neck; soft, like a ghost, and just as terrifying. "We're just protecting you."

Moments later, Wild slid into the clearing; cheeks pink, hair a tangled mess that you just knew would be a bitch to brush out. He looked every bit the savage everyone joked he was and you hated yourself for daring to find that attractive.

"Damn, you're quick," he huffed, a hint of a pout infecting his tone. Blood dotted his cheeks and neck, and you didn't even want to look at the mess on his tunic. Damn Champion, always finding a way to make a mess out of himself.

Legend's arm tightened around your midsection, and he pressed his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder, unbothered by the thin layer of sweat soaking your skin. Something warm and wet darted to slick over your flesh, and you damn near bucked him off, a startled yelp slipping past your lips, zinging against the heat of his hand and dizzyingly-opposing chill of the rings.

This couldn't be happening. You were in the middle of nowhere, for Hylia's sake! With nothing to your name but a small knife and the clothes on your back. "L-Let me go!" you tried to hiss, but it came out garbled, the sound blocked by the thick fingers slotted over your mouth.

Legend's chuckle vibrated against your back. "Not a chance," he spoke calmly, with a smile you could almost see, and Wild was suddenly in front of you. They pressed close, closer than you had been with anyone, much less two crazed men with weapons that could end you in less than a second.

"You'll be safe with us," murmured the Champion, gently brushing the hair away from your sweaty forehead. He couldn't have been more than a few inches away, leaving you free to study every inch of his grinning face for hints of the mask he so obviously wore. What else was beneath those eyes–bluer than the sky, bluer than blood?

At long last, Legend's hand left your face, moving to splay at the base of your neck, only to be replaced by Wild's thumb. The Champion's calloused skin brushed over the plump of your bottom lip, dragging it a millimeter down to reveal the barest peek of hidden canines. He pulled back, letting the flesh pop back to cover your only true weapon in this situation, and leaned impossibly close. "Pretty," whispered the Hero of the Wilds with that sick, delicious, terrifying gaze.

"Very," whispered Legend, and you were momentarily shocked that they were capable of agreeing at all.

Wild's head ducked, nose brushing your cheek as his body molded to yours, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, abdomen to hardness--

Your thoughts snapped to a screeching halt as you registered the distinct... appendage pressing against the flat of your gut.

Fuck no.

Without warning, your head shot in a downward arc, smashing against Wild's nose. The hero yelped in pain, jumping back as he clutched his nose, streaks of crimson already leaking to stain his skin and tunic. Legend's grip loosened, likely in surprise at the sudden action, and you wrenched free, stumbling away from the two men, panting harshly. Well, that's what you would have done had a hand not sealed around your wrist like a manacle, yanking you into Wild's tight embrace. His nose was bleeding profusely–he really ought to have that checked out–but the look in his eyes was nothing but... was that hunger? The fuck?!

"Nice try," rasped Wild, arms curling around your back like the limbs of a tree. Unyielding, binding in ways that made you want to set something alight. The Hero of the Wilds leaned close, close enough that the blood from his nose began to drip on your skin instead of his. "Didn't know you were into that, Princess."

Outrage replaced terror as you registered the bulge still pressed against you. "Are you getting off on this?!" you seethed, unable to believe what you were seeing– er, feeling, but it was all relative when his fucking dick was pressing against you through his trousers.

Wild licked his lips, and, coincidentally, some of the crimson blood leaking from his likely-broken. He offered you a smile, and you shivered at the reddish tint his teeth had taken on. "Can you blame me?"

You were appalled. "You're fucking insane."

"Takes one to know one," hummed Legend as he reacquainted himself with your back; hands on your shoulders, breath on the shell of your ear. His tongue darted to flick the soft point, and you hissed: "Get the fuck–"

"–on?" interrupted Wild with a shit-eating grin. It was the most normal expression you had seen him make since this nightmare began. "I agree."

Your cheeks burned, and you rushed to rectify the situation. "That's not what I meant and you know it–"

Legend's arms wiggled to your hips, gripping them through the fabric of your tunic and trousers. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressed against your backside through that Hylia-damned not-dress, and it was starting to piss you off. Just who did they think they were?!

A droplet of crimson dripped onto your collarbone. Then another, until it was like someone had cried blood on you.

"You're bleeding," you pointed out in a tone dryer than the Gerudo desert. Just like your pussy.

"No shit," grunted Wild, though the grin remained, like he was having the time of his life. You could relate.

"Gross," you rolled your eyes, trying to distract yourself from the way they were all but rutting against you... and how warm your core felt because of it. No! Bad thoughts!

A yelp left your mouth when Legend delivered a sharp nip to your ear, hard enough that you wouldn't be surprised if your own blood had been drawn.

"Liar," the Veteran hissed, and you were mortified by the spike of heat that slithered down your spine. "You're enjoying this as much as we are."

"Fuck no," you snarled, hoping that your expression conveyed the sheer amount of disgust and contempt you held towards them. Behind you, Legend's eyes darkened. Behind you, the Veteran gave the Champion a subtle nod.

Your thoughts froze when Wild dropped to his knees before you, staring up at you with those big blue eyes that managed to be as innocent as they were poisoned. He glanced at the Hero of Legend again, and, before you could blink, there were hands at the waistband of your pants.

"What the hell?!"

Your first instinct was to jump away, but Legend's grip was too strong, holding you fast as the Hero of the Wilds worked your trousers and undergarments down in succession until they bunched just above your knees. 'Bare' was too easy a word to describe what you felt when the pads of Wild's fingers traced up your thighs, settling on the points of your hips, rubbing soothing circles that only served to spur your heart like a spooked horse. Pupils blown, hands shaking against your flesh. Was he nervous? Fuck.

"Stop, please," the words fell from your lips like a prayer. A plea.

The first touch against your pelvis made your gut clench, a hot, broiling warmth brewing in your belly. A whimper forced itself from your mouth, and you would swear up and down that it was merely a sound of despair.

"I'd do anything for you," whispered Wild against the skin of your stomach. Anything, but let you go, it seemed.

Legend's lips slid to the side of your neck, no longer hesitant as he slicked his tongue up the side of your neck, from base to ear. Tasting you, memorizing the flavor of your sweat for his sick purposes. "Good girl," the Hero of Legend cooed against moist flesh, and Wild's eyes fluttered shut, like he was the one being praised. You squeezed your thighs in a last-ditch effort to halt the insanity that was taking place before your very eyes.

Legend tutted, and a hand detached from your waist, wiggling between your legs with about as much difficulty as killing a chuchu. You yelped when his fingers immediately found your clit, pinching the small bud with enough force to make your thighs quake, creating the perfect opportunity for the Champion to slot himself between them once more, eyes wide and innocent and so, so wrong.

You were screwed.

Literally.

"Just relax," Wild cooed through the fog. Legend's hand returned upwards to secure you even more firmly in place, and the Hero of the Wilds took it as a sign to lean it, now a hairs-breadth from your core, which was uncomfortably, traitorously wet. You could feel the strings of slick against the skin of your inner thighs, the Champion practically purring as your scent washed over him in pulsing waves.

"I hate you," you spat. It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Wild only hummed, his breath fanning over every inch of your lower half. You cursed every deity in existence at the realization that it felt good. "That's okay," he said, like your words meant nothing, or he had already called your bluff. He wiped a droplet of blood from his upper lip, then gripped the bottom of your thighs, forcing them to hoist up on his shoulders. "You don't have to like me to like this."

Without hesitation, he closed the distance, licking a broad stripe up the entirety of your cunt, from clenching hole to swollen clit. The hero's eyes snapped shut, and a deep, sinful groan rumbled against your folds. Your mouth fell open in shock, only snapping shut when Legend chuckled against your neck. The bastard knew, and he was enjoying it. They both were.

"Wild..."

It was hardly a whisper, barely a breath, yet Wild heard it. He always did, and always would. Your mind flicked to your journey together; before the others, before the madness, when it was the two of you against the world. What you wouldn't have given to have had him like this months ago, but now... now, things had gone sour, good intentions--if there were any to begin with--buried beneath a thick layer of sickly-sweet desire.

That's not my name, Wild's beautiful eyes said. You ignored it, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly that you feared you would never see again. Maybe then, things would be right. Maybe then, you could do this right.

But it simply wasn't meant to be. There were no heroes in sight when you opened your eyes, only two men. Two men with blonde hair and the most gorgeous lips you had seen. Two men who wanted something they could have had in a heartbeat.

A fat, wet tongue rolled along the puffy bud of your clit, slicking a (un)healthy concoction of your juices and his saliva onto the tender flesh. Your thighs trembled around Wild's head, and a small, sniveling part of you was glad he had maneuvered you like that, if only to avoid them seeing the way a few simple touches could have your knees buckling like a newborn foal.

You choked on a gasp when Legend rocked his erection against the curve of your ass, one hand roving up to cup your right breast through your tunic. Deft fingers teased your flesh through the fabric, eventually settling on the pebbled bump of your nipple, twisting and pulling it until you were squirming, chest heaving for a reason embarrassingly different from mere panting breaths.

"Fuck," you hissed, forgetting yourself for a brief moment. WIld's chuckle was light, and it was almost easy to sink into the protective embrace of dissociation. You could pretend his nose was broken for a different reason than self-defense. You could pretend his hair wasn't mussed from chasing someone down. You could pretend that he wasn't staring at you like you were only thing in his universe.

The Champion pulled back, his chin shiny with equal amounts of slick and blood. You didn't look down, not wanting to know how much of it had gotten on you, much less the way his tongue swept out to lick at the combined liquids. "That's the idea, princess," he told you, and you debated crushing his head between your thighs just to prove a point, though the bastard would probably like that. Weirdo.

Without another word, the hero dove back in, lips molding around your clit once more. He gave a strong suckle, and your hands clenched into fists, a moan threatening to bubble put from the depths of your body. You mourned the loss of movement, as Legend had seen fit to cage your arms to your sides with his own, rendering them useless. Wild's hands had moved to your hips, gently massaging the tense flesh as his lips and tongue worked tirelessly over your bud. He had always been dedicated, so it wasn't a surprise that that... personality trait would carry over to the bed– woods, because you were all animals now.

"You're so quiet," the Hero of Legend murmured against your neck, hands still worrying your breasts, pinching and plucking at random, horrifyingly-tantalizing intervals. There was a harsh twist; he hummed, while you cursed the whimper that slipped between your teeth. "I think we both know you can do better than that, Princess."

You don't know shit, you wanted to say, but Wild's tongue slipped inside you and the words died on your tongue, replaced by a sharp, keening hiss. Fuck.

Legend's grin could have cut through rock. "Thought so."

"Go to hell," you managed to spit, but he was unfazed. A hand gripped your chin, forcing you to face him. Blazing purple eyes regarded every inch of your flushed, panting face, and the Hero of Legend gave a chuckle that couldn't have belonged to anyone but a villain.

"Only if you're there with me."

His lips were warm when they met yours, much softer than the rest of him. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, gentler than you would have expected. A tongue slowly slid along the seam of your lips, and it was a shock that he seemed to be asking permission.

Fuck it, you decided.

Wild's tongue swirled in a tight circle, forcing a gasp to bubble from your throat. Legend swallowed your noises like a man starved, eyes fluttering shut as he bore your weight, kneading above your heart in a manner that you were only realizing the tenderness of.

Link, the Hero of Legend, kissed like a dying man.

Desperate, unyielding, passionate. What the fuck was this?

"I love you," he breathed against your lips, and the words were far too sweet to belong to someone so rough, so calloused. You weren't sure they belonged in anyone's mouth tonight.

In one swift motion, you wrenched an arm free, catching the exact moment his eyes widened, expecting a retaliation of some kind. What he didn't expect was the harsh thread of your fingers in pink-blonde hair, nor the harsher pull that brought his mouth back on yours.

The kiss was messy, full of tongue and teeth in a manner that was so unlike the first one. Because you were in control–

You caught his tongue between your teeth, nipping it hard enough that the faint taste of copper temporarily overrode all others, small pearls of red drooling from the corners of your lips, slicking the point of your chin, eliciting a soft groan from the hero. If he wanted to play rough, you were going to pay it back tenfold.

–And you were going to make sure they remembered that.

Your other arm was freed without hesitation, leaving Wild to shoulder most of your weight, while Legend ensued you stayed upright. Good, they could work for it. Within a milisecond, you had Wild by the hair, yanking him from your cunt without an ounce of gentleness. He whined, like a dog being denied a treat, and you let a small scoff fall from your lips, eyes focused squarely on the Champion.

"If you don't make me cum in two minutes, I'll find someone who will," the threat slipped out far easier than you expected. Maybe you were angry, or perhaps this was how things were always going to play out. Either way, considering it would have to wait, especially when he was looking at you like you held the world in your palm.

Wild leaned forward, tongue out, waiting for permission. All he was missing were some dog ears and a tail.

You gave a nod, keeping your expression dismissive, and he all but descended upon your cunt. Gone was the previous gentleness, replaced by hard suction and a relentless, firm tongue that lapped at your entrance with a speed that would have made anyone jealous. It was only when you felt something different prod at your hole did you give pause to wonder just what the hell you were doing, though not for long when Legend reclaimed your lips.

The first finger inside you was uncomfortable. The second, less so, but you still found yourself hissing into the Veteran's mouth at the intrusion. Wild stilled his motions, studying your face for any signs of true discomfort, and, once satisfied that there was none, he began anew with renewed ferocity, crooking his fingers against your gooey walls as his tongue slicked a steady circle around your clit.

You broke the kiss with Legend with a soft gasp, letting your head fall against the Veteran's shoulder as the Champion practically fingerblasted you into oblivion, a familiar pressure building in your abdomen. It never came this quickly, but you were far too out of it to care. It had been a tough week, after all.

Wild's finger began to pump inside of you, keeping a steady pace as they curled and scissored. He was putting himself to work, as was Legend, who you were certain had been groping your chest for at least five minutes now. "C'mon," the Hero of Legend murmured, delivering a nip to the shell of your ear while his hands busied at your breasts. "Cum for us."

Shut up, you wanted to hiss. If that didn't work, you could kiss him again, and make sure his tongue would never leave your mouth. Heroes didn't need to speak, right? Wild certainly managed fine with sign language on his harder days.

Your thoughts were cut short when the Champion's fingers curled within you, rubbing against that one spot with purpose. His expression mirrored an intensity you had only seen in battle, or creep-watching session, and the sight of such single-minded focus was, well... it was doing things to you. Terrible, wonderful things. Things that made your cunt clench harder, spasming around war-gnarled digits, and, when a third was added, your only instinct was to bury your face in Legend's neck, eyes squeezed shut as you fought to regain control.

"It's okay," murmured the Hero of Legend, like that would fix everything. Like he could just slap a bandage over your heart and head, and it would be fine again. "Just let go," he coaxed, eyes never leaving you for a second. You didn't register the wetness on your cheeks until it was licked away by the Veteran. Had you been crying?

There was a thrust from Wild's hand fingers, a sharp suck of his mouth, and the world melted away.

Every nerve in your body fired simultaneously as white-hot pleasure streaked through your being, igniting your flesh in what had to be the most intense climax your hazy mind could bother remembering. Maybe you were screaming, or the pressure in your mouth was Legend's neck instead of your tongue, but it was all relative when basic thought had become this taxing.

Boneless and spent, you collapsed against the Veteran. Thighs shaking, fingers twitching, chest heaving. The fingers retreated from your core with a soft pop, and a hazy whimper left you at the sensation, which mophed to a louder whine when the Champion's tongue pressed against sensitive flesh. He didn't let up, seeming hell-bent on cleaning the cum from your twitching folds with a fervor that really should have concerned you.

"S–"

Legend's hold was gentle as he eased you back to Earth, careful not to jostle the hero nestled between your thighs. If anything, Wild seemed to relish the change, his hands sliding beneath the fabric of your tunic to grip your hips while you squirmed, exhausted, against the Veteran's chest. One large hand took both your wrists, trapping them in his vice-like grip while his erection settled firmly agianst your backside. Fuck, you had nearly forgotten about that.

The Champion's mouth reaquainted itself with your clit, and you hissed as the pain of overstimulation shot through your core. Too much, it was too much!

You yanked against the restraining hold, but the Hero of Legend merely tightened his grip, head dipping to murmur in your ear. "Almost there, princess," like his dick wasn't actively rutting against your ass. "Just one more."

One more? Refractory period who?!

"Unless you want something more," he paused to let the words hang in the air. A finger traced up the length of your throat; slowly, surely, and so devastatingy unlike the way his hips rocked against you. "filling?"

A low hiss rose from the depths of your chest, and you would swear up and down that it wasn't out of need, or the way Wild's touch was starting to feel good again. These fuckers hadn't even given you room to breathe before they were at it again, and the only thing holding you back was the fact that your arms were too exhausted to rip their balls off.

"Hate," was all you managed to grit out. The word felt wrong on your tongue.

"Love," corrected Legend with a sweet kiss to your temple.

"Bite me."

"Gladly."

You yelped when his head dipped and a set of teeth sunk into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to break skin. Hard enough that you felt warm blood trickle down your skin before it was lapped up by a soft, slick tongue that definitely didn't belong.

Wild, having apparently decided that you had gone too long without acknowledging him, pushed his fingers against the throbbing entrance of your cunt. Your toes curled, heels digging into his back, but the Champion only groaned. He was merciful enough to leave your swollen clit to the mercy of the cool night air, focusing instead on spreading you beyond repair. You half-heartedly wondered if the others had gone looking for you yet.

"So wet," mused the Hero of the Wilds, and you nearly growled at the self-satisfied tone his voice had taken on. Asshole.

No thanks to you, you wanted to hiss. But you didn't. Who knows what kind of ideas they would get from a statement as loaded as that one.

A huff. Breath fanned over your nub. "You never answered his question," Wild hummed. He began to pump his fingers like they were a cock. In and out; stroke, curl, repeat. The accompanying squelch was nothing short of humiliating, but the Champion's grin only grew, and Legend continued to suck at your neck like a leech, though you knew his ears were perked in expectation. "Do you want his cock or mine?"

"Neither," you snarled with such confidence that you almost believed yourself.

The Heroes of the Wilds and Legend shared a glance.

"That's fine," Wild shrugged, like he was discussing what to have for dinner instead of which one of them was going to have you first. His pupils seemed to wink at you, so large that you could hardly see the blue of his irises anymore. Before you could blink, he had his hands under your knees, hoisting your lower half into the air as Legend fumbled with something between you. Something that sprung free as soon as it was released, slapping against the flesh of your cunt and forcing a startled yelp from your lips.

"You still have it?" Wild asked, thumbs caressing the sides of your knees.

Legend's eyes rolled, and it was the most normal thing you had seen him do tonight. There was more fumbling. "Obviously."

You blinked when a small yellow vial was tossed to the Champion, who caught it with his teeth. What the fuck? At your bewildered gaze, Wild shot you a wink, set you back down against the Veteran's legs--which moved in such a way that they prevented yours from closing--and popped the cap with his mouth, spitting it to the side. Then, he tipped half the vial into his mouth, not bothering to wipe the corners before slotting his lips back over yours. Your eyes widened when his tongue wormed into your mouth, the liquid following close behind. It was thick and sweet, with an undertone not unlike honey, though you were intimately aware of the fact that it wasn't honey. This was something new, something dangerous.

Droplets of golden liquid dribbled from the corners of your lips when Wild pulled back, treating you to another one of his self-satisfied smirks. Instead of downing the vial, like he expected, he took it in hand once more and tipped the contents directly onto your cunt, a healthy bit splattering the side of Legend's quivering cock. The Champion reached forward, massaging the surprisingly viscous substance onto your flesh with two fingers, taking special care to coat your clit in a thick, slimy layer. You whined and wriggled, the chill of the air contrasting with the warmth of his fingers and the liquid. "What the fuck, Wild?" you managed to snarl, but it felt weak. It was starting to get hot. Why were you so hot?

"Don't be scared," the bastard himself cooed. "It's just a tonic we swiped from Hyrule's time. You'll love it, promise."

You highly doubted that, but the time for thinking had apparently expired, because the second Legend's cock slid against your soaked walls, a moan that could have shattered windows erupted from your throat.

"Shit," breathed the Veteran, finally releasing your wrists so he could wrap his arms around your middle. He bucked his hips once more, and the head of his dick made contact with your nub. You groaned again. Loudly. Wild couldn't have looked more proud of himself. "You always like this, princess?"

"Hylia, I hope so," the Champion sighed dreamily.

Legend's breath ghosted over your neck as he panted; the tonic must have been affecting him too. Heat crept through your body, burning through blood and bone in search of your heart, your core, and your mind. It was so hot. Why was it so hot? You felt like you were burning alive.

You needed him. Them.

The jig was up, and you had bet on the losing side. You hadn't even bet at all, really, but none of that mattered when the only coherent thought you could hold was on how good they would feel inside you. How they would stretch you, take you apart like you were some kind of doll, and bring you back together in an amalgamation that not even a mother could recognize.

"Fuck me," you whispered, almost to yourself. Almost to whatever deity dared listen in. Legend's breath hitched. His cock pressed firmly against your cunt, and there were hands on your hips once more, coaxing you to rise, to make room within yourself for the Hero of Legend.

"Gladly."

All the air left your lungs when he pushed home in one smooth, uninterrupted thrust. Your head fell back against the Veteran's shoulder, fingers digging into his forearms for support. It was like your cunt had been set on fire, and every thrust stoked a fresh inferno within your depths.

"Good girl," he praised, beginning a quick, mind-numbing rhythm that had you all but drawing blood, writhing and crying like you were being murdered.

A new weight pressed to your front, and you barely had time to register Wild's appearance before he was kissing you. Reaching between your bodies to rub enticing circles on your clit, groaning into your mouth like he was the one being fucked, not you.

"You're so tight," Legend sighed, thrusting into you like he would die without it. His teeth grazed the bite mark on your shoulder, eliciting a full-body shiver before he bit down, drawing a scream from your throat. Wild swallowed your noises greedily, fingers flying between your legs with a ferocity that should have been terrifying.

The kiss was broken, and your blood ran cold at what the Champion said next; cheeks flushed, eyes like coals. "Not too tight for two?"

Fuck? Fuck!

Legend's teeth dug deeper as he slowed, still pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. He released you, and growled: "I'd love to see you try."

You were mortified at the throb your cunt gave at the pseudo-challenge. It was one thing to take a cock, but two? There was no way, no fucking way.

"W–"

But Wild's mouth was already on yours, tongue slicking against yours like a lover would, or someone trying to shut you up. Maybe it was both. His thumb returned to your clit, but there was something purposeful about the way he rubbed you. This was happening, you realized as soon as something thick and hot plopped against the top of your slit, a bead of shiny pre-cum leaking from the engorged tip. The preparation continued with a finger sliding into your cunt, joining Legend's still-moving cock, then another, and another, until you couldn't tell which way was up.

The tonic had certainly worked, though you would take the fact that you actually did love it to the grave. "Please," the word rolled off your tongue, ricocheting through the air, and you were unsure of who or what you were begging to. Wild? Legend? Both of them??

Legend and Wild were one and the same; two men, hellbent on destroying the sensible remnants of the person you were. You felt their desire through the Veteran's tender mouthing at your neck, and the way Wild splayed his fingers to ensue you could take him. The light of the moon bathed them in a ghostly light, accenting the stark differences in dress between the three of you. Where you were bare, clothed in only a tunic, they were in everything they set off with; pants pushed down, tunic-dress pulled up.

"Ready?" the Champion panted, cock grinding against your stuffed entrance, capturing your lips once more. You didn't know whether to kiss him back or bite his tongue until it bled. His nose had already ceased bleeding, but the flesh was beginning to swell in certain places. Setting it would be a bitch.

"Go fuck yourself," you hissed, a final act of defiance. A final cry in the roaring tsunami of heat.

"I'll fuck you," Wild promised, and, in one swift motion, he pulled his fingers from your cunt, replacing them with his dick. The world seemed to fall away when he pushed inside, blissfully slow to allow you ample time to adjust to the stretch. Legend had stilled, waiting for the Champion to sheath himself, and the three of you groaned in tandem when he finally did.

It was overwhelming, and all your thoughts scattered when the Hero of the Wilds gave his first thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure skittering across your body like spiders. There was no time to catch your breath when Wild set a punishing pace; hard, fast, and unrelenting. Legend was more than happy to follow suit, fucking you like he had something to prove while you moaned and writhed, clawing desperately at Wild's shoulders for even a hint of stability.

"Please," was the only thing you could think to say, the syllables slurring together as they continued to thrust into you, alternating in a way that ensued you were never empty. A small bulge was visible through your stomach from the combined side of the cocks in you, and both men groaned at the sight, snapping their hips to chase the high that couldn't have come sooner. You felt like a star, glowing and primed to burst, scattering droves of stardust in your glorious, final ending.

Legend's grip tightened. Two finger descended upon your clit, pinching and pulling at the abused nub, and you were done.

Your vision flashed whiter than the sun as you came, clenching on the two cocks inside you like a vice, so bright and brilliant that, for a moment, you feared you had died and gone to heaven. Wild's hips stuttered first, and he slammed home, a rush of scalding wetness filling you. Legend wasn't far behind, practically growling in your ear as he followed the Champion's lead.

The clearing was silent as you came down from your high, collapsing against Legend's chest with an exhausted huff. Wild cupped the back of your neck, keeping your head upright. His nose was bleeding again, and it took several moments to register the slow trickle of blood against the skin of your neck.

"Are you okay?" the Champion panted as soon as he regained his breath, blue eyes roving your face for any flashes of pain or panic. When there was none, his back straightened from its pleasured curl, and you felt a pair of lips against your own; soft, comforting, everything you needed.

"Okay," you mumbled, not quite able to banish the oozing sensation of cum running down your leg from your mind. Your brain felt soft, stuffed with cotton, and it would be a long time coming before you fully came to terms with what the hell had just happened. More fluid leaked down your thighs, spurting out around the cocks still buried deep inside you. Eyelids heavy, you let out a sigh more suited to a middle-aged man having an existential crisis. Wild shared a glance with Legend, and the Champion scooted backwards, pulling out of you with a noisy squelch.

A glob of cum blurted from your pussy.

You closed your eyes.

You let unconsciousness take you.

So the smut was NOT supposed to happen originally, but I got really inspired by "Mistake" by Stellar and here we are. Please know that this writing does NOT reflect the views of the author (me). I think rape, or anything that circumvents someone's right to choose, is a terrible thing and should be punished to the fullest extent of the law, but this is a yandere fic, so...

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed, and I sincerely apologize for procrastinating on this piece for so long.

[ultralightpoe]

Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

- 

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother. 

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life. 

She did it out of love. 

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person. 

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture. 

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out. 

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was. 

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were. 

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself. 

- 

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

- 

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife. 

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start.  “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend. 

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out. 

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more. 

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there. 

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression. 

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything. 

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly. 

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.” 

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit? 

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around. 

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain. 

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car. 

- 

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

- 

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away. 

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping  the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats. 

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you. 

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again. 

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw. 

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone. 

- 

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

- 

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you. 

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck. 

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.” 

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.” 

“Make a fortune.”

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it. 

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand. 

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around. 

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture. 

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about. 

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink. 

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over. 

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs. 

“He���s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it. 

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda.  “Let’s go find our seats?”

- 

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

- 

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head. 

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.  

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back. 

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back. 

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops. 

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm. 

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes. 

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.” 

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen. 

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.” 

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush. 

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.” 

“I can try.” 

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera. 

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

- 

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place. 

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away. 

“You always choose better!”

- 

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at. 

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet. 

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him. 

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.” 

“.....Fuck.”

[to-mah-to27]

Headcanon that Saiki Kusuo collects people with honest intentions.

This might be less of a headcanon and more of just a dissection of the series, but every time Saiki talks about people in general, it's always nihilistic and defeatist.

He doesn't like weddings because of hearing the guest's thoughts and how it directly opposes what they are saying.

He doesn't like Christmas because of how people are always thinking about themselves and what they want rather than about giving and being grateful, which is against the very spirit of the holiday.

Basically, people's thoughts show a darker and more egotistical side of humanity, and overexposure to this has added to the already mountainous problem of Saiki distancing himself from everyone and everything.

Almost every time a new character is introduced, Saiki treats them in this same way, expecting them to be secretly self-absorbed and immoral. But by the end of the short, they prove to be otherwise.

-That's- when Saiki goes all Tsundere and "well I guess I'd rather not owe him a favor or anything" and uses his powers to help them.

Saiki -does- hate Nendou. Until Nendou jumps in to stop him from getting mugged by two other students. Saiki knows he has been nothing but cold and dismissive to this guy, and yet while getting the shit kicked out of him for getting involved, all Nendou does and give him a thumbs up and tell him to run.

Saiki hates Kaidou, too. Sees him as another outcast trying to become friends with him on the principle that they are both alone. Until Kaidou actually jumps in front of the other student to save her from getting attacked by a snake. Kaidou is terrified, yes, and panics and thinks "Why did I do that?" but he still did it. He risked bodily harm and infection to save someone else and -that- is what heroes actually are.

Saiki doesn't necessarily hate Hairo, but he does admit they aren't the type of people who would get along. But then Hairo goes as far as to scrape his knee for Saiki, even if it was to keep him in a game he doesn't really want to play. He recognizes Hairo is someone who sticks to his morals, and he respects that.

Teruhashi took a bit longer, especially because at first she really was the type of person who says something the opposite of what they think. Their relationship is a little more complicated, I think and I've already talked about it before, but I do think that it was when she committed so hard to her appearance that she was willing to eat that "ramen" from the place Nendou showed them. Actions speak much louder than words, as Saiki as a character is a very good example of. At a certain point, is it really a facade if she is willing to go that far?

Basically, Saiki has a soft spot for people who are honest and true.

He can't force himself to really truly push them away like he could do if he really wanted to. Because that's so rare in the world to find a person like that, at least for him, and so it is very difficult to force them out of his life when he knows they are only trying to help.

At least that's how it starts.

I can do another post about the rest of the characters if y'all want

[beetlesau]

Its Light Still Shines.

Chapter 1

(Chapter 2 here)

(Shadow x reader) (fem) - 1.5k

LoL yeah I don't know what's going on here. I don't know why I make everything I write complicated af.

This contains Mild spoilers for Sonic 3, but it's a mix of the movie but more Sonic Adventure 2 game, and of course just made up stuff. Reader is lab created along with Shadow, so has similar abilities. OKAY, enjoy, or not. bye!

It was a long and dreamless nothing. I wasn't awake but not quite asleep. The only moments of semi-consciousness came in the form of pain radiating around me. At first, I felt small, but I thought of myself as a more significant mass over an unknown amount of time. I collected thoughts and understanding. In every spurt of pain, I felt myself grow. It was slow, and it was all that could occupy my mind.

After, or before, came the memories of our life. An endless weaving of what was and what was. We saw through eyes that looked at a furry form of black and red. We saw the stars from the ARK, our home, our prison.

One day, We became I. I had her memories as well as my own newly formed ones.

I saw as I sat across from him, the wires that poked and prodded at his skin. He didn't see me; I wasn't really there just yet. But she was, Maria. We cared for him the same. I cared for her like he did; how could I not? When she was me. Once.

Maria was sick, and in her grandfather's desperation to cure her, I was brought forth from the nothingness of the Universe.

As was he. Shadow. We were one and the same in our purpose, though assembled in vastly different ways.

My mind remembers hers. It recalls all her thoughts and feelings and, at times, her pain. But most of all, it remembers her love, compassion, and how she cared. It was all for him.

Then, one day, my purpose was lost. My reason for existence is no longer a factor in the world, yet I still grow.

I see three heroes at odds with despair. The waters divide and make way for the behemoth. I see his Control of Chaos, powering the destruction. I feel his anger and his pain.

I think I'm awake. I believe my limbs ache as I move them for the first time. I find my face. I must be numb; I cannot feel the limb that protrudes from my face like a trunk when I touch it with my fingers, but I feel myself breathe into it as I realize I am surrounded by a liquid. It feels unnatural. I remember images from before but see only blackness now. I move my hands again, higher, and caress the two slight divots there. Eyes. My own. A foreign feeling, but the knowledge floods me like an unlocked door. I open them, and the light blinds me. There are flashing red lights, and I become aware of the unnatural blaring of sound surrounding me.

I am trapped. I feel my arms, and now legs flail on instinct and bang against the cylinder that contains me. I watch as the glass fractures and finally shatters, and my body spills out along the floor. The tube connected to half of my face, which I thought belonged to my anatomy, rips away as I get swept away with the water.

I gasp, a tear of pain, as my lungs inflate on their own for the first time. Shards of glass below me cut at my hands as I pull myself up on shaky legs.

I shouldn't be able to stand.

By all accounts, this is my first time ever doing so. I can feel the muscles under my skin, the ligaments that hold my frame together. It's all brand new but so familiar. I take my first steps to an unmanned computer terminal, flinching at the lights that bounce around the screen.

The date and time hover in the lower corner.

I've been ... growing... in that tube for fifty years. I can't be shocked by this alone, but as I look into the reflection of one of the monitors, I notice I don't have the signs of an aged person. Through my Maria's eyes, I recall our grandfather and his aged flesh and white hair. The wrinkles in his skin he'd earned with time. I looked older than the Maria I saw in my mind's eye. When she'd brush her long hair in the mirror, we'd stare back. I didn't look anything like her now. Even when I was made of her own DNA and whatever mix of mad science Gerald Robotnik concocted, I was entirely unique from her. Free of her imperfections, one half of an Ultimate Lifeform.

But Maria was gone. Why was I here? What was my purpose now? Why was I made? A shade of her.

A shadow.

Shadow.

Where was he?

Fifty years imprisoned with my own visions of what was and what will be, fifty years of knowing his suffering like it were my own.

I closed my eyes and spoke aloud for the first time in my creation. My voice wavered, and the word felt weighted in my mouth.

"Shadow."

My body tingled and compressed into itself.

Rain pattered down onto my face, and when my eyes opened, I was met with a blackened sky and a million neon lights.

I was unfamiliar with the place, yet I knew it was Tokyo. I knew things I shouldn't and yet did. Small tidbits of just enough information flooded my brain. I'd teleported to an alleyway, thankfully away from the patches of flame that blazed from explosions nearby.

Shadow stood less than fifty feet away atop an overturned vehicle. He'd already been loose and the cause of such destruction.

Above, I could hear the intense beat of a GUN airship propeller. A Mobian trio would descend any moment, and I would lose Shadow to Sonic and furious pursuit.

"Daijōbudesuka?" I turned to find a tiny old woman peeking her head out of a back door. Keeping an eye on the chaos outside her shop, she had a near heart attack when I appeared before her, mostly naked. She shouted at me in Japanese, and I responded similarly.

"So sorry, Auntie. Can I borrow your clothes?" It wouldn't be a great first official impression to walk up to Shadow nude. I bowed and spoke in words I wasn't sure how I knew.

She seemed taken aback but shook her head furiously and asked that I wait a moment. When she returned, she had a large blue and purple iridescent rain jacket and a threadbare dress. I watched as her expression turned from one of concern to fear. Why was I here in the alley? How did I get here, naked as I was? She must have surmised that I was connected to the disorder happening just out front and decided getting close to me was not in her best interests. She peaked again, leaving just enough room to toss the clothes across the way to me. I thanked her, but she didn't hear, having slammed the door shut.  

By the time I got to the mouth of the alleyway, I was dressed and pulling up the hood around my damp hair.

"Shadow!" I called. What was I even supposed to say? I saw visions of what was to come, but that didn't give me a clue about what would stop him from going down that path.

Then I saw him with these eyes for the first time. Electricity moved through me, and I couldn't breathe. Vivid flashes of Maria in her happiest times flooded my mind. I felt my eyes well with tears, and my lip quivered.

I moved closer to him; if he'd had the same connective feeling, he didn't let it show.

"Sh-shadow. You have to stop.. What you would do... you don't have to-"

"And just who are you?" he cut me off with a raspy anger I'd never heard from him.

"I-I'm... I'm Maria?" I stuttered; this was a question I did not honestly know the answer to, and my reply was weak and unsure. It didn't sound right to my own ears.

His eyes widened in surprise before a snarl replaced it with anger.

"What is this, some sort of trick? Are you working with GUN? I'll kill you for that, faker. Don't pollute her memory, disgusting creature." he raised a gun he'd taken from one of the officers and pointed it at my head, intent on ending my lies.

"Control." I spoke, and in an instant, I appeared behind him. "I won't hurt you, Shadow. I'm not with GUN. Though maybe you're right, maybe I'm not who I thought I was."

He spun around just as fast to face me, ready to make a move again, but it was too late. I dropped to my knees in a desperate attempt to reach him. "Shadow, please! I know you're hurting. I know what you're planning. It doesn't have to be this way."

My chance to change his mind had passed as three figures landed from the sky. His attention shifted to the others, likely convinced I was nothing but a distraction.

"Leave, before I kill you." he growled over his shoulder.

My head hurt. I had to go. I could not do anything now; I knew he was already on the path I'd wished to avoid.

"Some stars might no longer exist by the time their light is seen." I couldn't remember what that meant; but it was important to us. My head was splitting. I'd barely whispered the words to him before I'd had to warp away.

I missed the way his eyes lit with familiarity.

[chocol4tte]

Lately I've been dwalling into the Batfam fandom again, even obsesing more in a fic that I've been writing in my notebooks since 2018, but that's for another moment.

I don't usually read too many comics, and tbf, there are a lot and the timelines are a fucking nightmare, I do plan, however, in reading DCceased (?), I love the man that Damian became growing up, and sadly I spoiled myself with the ending, suffice to say, it will be heart-breaking.

Anyway, as I was reading some batfam fics, especially this one: Who tells a tale of unspeaking death? who will brave this bitter grief? by an orphan account, I absolutley loved it and I love Damian so much, so I wondered how things would've been if:

When Jon left to space with his grandfather to space, Damian was not supportive at first with that idea, as he was receiving some weird vibes from the whole situation with Jon's grandfather... and kind of Personal experience in a way.

Jon decided to ignore him and say that it will be fine, he needs and wants to learn more about his kryptonian side with his grandfather, Jon and Damian leave with a bitter taste of hteir friendship but, well, may Damian can do other things in the meantime then.

Damian decided to take the time for the Year of Blood penance and meets Maya and Suren; it happens like canon, except, Damian remains dead, things didn't work out and with Dick now being Ric, the family mourns the youngest and now they cannot resurrect him. They simply won't, against their wish, need to mourn and accept death.

In just a matter of a two weeks, the Batfamily are receiving the support they need, baby steps, however when Clark lears of the situation he is at the terrible position of notifying his son of his best friend's death. Its already heart breaking seeing his friend's grief over a child no older than 14... Clark is preparing with Lois to deliver the notice.

Its not until some week that Jon returns now almost 6 years older as a 17 teenager, with the determination of going home and speak with his family and best friend Damian, thinking how in response he will tell him an "I told you he was creepy af." and maybe, maybe go back with their friend shenanigans, save the cities and have more adventures... telling him a bout the people he met and the animals he saw in different worlds! Hopefully those 6 years haven't changed his friend much...

When he meets his dad, Jon has a heartfelt reunion with his parents, explains what happened as the years went by and the intergalactic heroes and community he met in his journey back home, and how Damian was correct about his grandfather and wishes to see how his friend has grown up!

Clark soon stops Jon from continue talking about meeting Damian very quickly, the atmosphere becomes akward after that and it's Lois who breaks the news to Jon, he has been out in space for weeks in the first place, not years, and even if he wants to see his friend, well... Lois doesn't get the words out of her mouth. She thought she could do it, but the words died in her mouth.

Jon is atonished, is that the reason why his mom and dad stayed so unchanged after 6 years? It was just weeks? He doesn't know what to think of it, until he just flies away from his parents without much of a thought but his heart beating faster and faster as he flies to a different direction and notices that everything is still the same, it dawns on him as he passes by multiple buildings he and his dad used to fly over years weeks ago ... how he was robbed of his childhood. Robbed!

Its not until dusk was setting that he realized he was flying directly towards Gotham City, he needed to speak with his best friend, unaware that his father was flying right behind him trying to stop him.

He wasn't fast enough, Jon is already knocking at the Wayne mansion and almost takes the doors down when there was no response.

Jon is taken aback by Alfred's appearence, he looked older, like he would supposed to look after some time, this already made him a little sick in the stomach, he knew grief, he saw it in his missions in space.

Alfred doesn't recognize Jon, not very much until he sees the Superman symbol in his chest, followed by the very same Superman behind him, apologizing to him and quickly explaining that Jon came back and they had a situation. Clark was planning on taking Jon away from the Wayne mansion until Jon asks where is Damian.

There is no response other than a slight flinch that doesn´t go unnoticed. Jon is insisting where his friend is, and cue Bruce, barely groomed and looking like someone has taken 30 years from him, he is a little surprise by Jon's presence, but when he is asked where Damian is for the third time, he just looks at a defeated and nervous Clark behind him and just... looks at him, either deciding what to do, if lcosing the door and ignoring a teenage boy who will most likely demand answers from him, but thankfully Tim and Jason arrive as well by seeing the conmmotion downstairs and they take it from there.

Jason tries to make small talk in the way, babling about a growth spurt or some cryptonain genes, ignoring that Jon aged faster in space, Clark is trying to explain the situation as well, following both vigilantes to a garden a little further from the mansion.

Tim and Jon are silent all the way, until they see Titus and Alfred the cat in a distance, Tim began talking about Damian going for a redemption journey from a mission he had years before where he had taken multiple lives in just one year, how he met the daugther of one of Damian's victims and the heir of an old Al' Ghul enemy who ended up befriending. They were silently listening to Tim until they stopped at a headstone, where it read in clear letters Damian's name, his birth date... and death date, plus a message and Robin Symbol.

Jon felt as if he was in space but falling into the Void. It was a lie. It has to be. He looked at his dad, saying that it was a cruel joke, but stopped himself from saying it out loud when Clark is looking away, from him and the tombstone.

Anyway, i haven't really given a thought to this, mostly I would love to read this scenario and Jon asking why they aren't bringing Damian back, and when he is being told that no, Damian will continue resting in peace, Jon would be devastated, at first angry... but later on crying on how if he had stayed, his dear friend would be alive and having a future... how he didn't say a proper goodby to Damian and their last interaction was a fight.

Just like Damian's family, all that is left are memories and regrets, something they'll carry for the rest of their lives. :)