#i was ostracized as a child can you tell?

[writing-mlm]

saw you do familial reqs? damian with an older brother figure reader would be so awesome.. bonus points if he’s also some moody bat and just kinda sees himself in damian. he used to be a sort of outcast himself, so he can empathize with damian when dame feels like he’s sort of ostracized from the other robins or bat fam members.

Annual New Robin Trip

Summary: Damian’s been Robin long enough that it’s his turn to go on the Robin Trip Pairing: Damian Wayne & Brother!reader Wc: 4.5k tags/warnings: sibling bond, both were child assassins, Bruce is bad at parenting

Dick was the bubbly, bumbling Robin. People used to say he was truly a circus kid; flipping from chandeliers and being a little terror. Although everyone is pretty sure he was definitely out for blood whenever he had the chance. He would tell the most awful puns while fighting and Bruce wouldn’t even scold him. 

Jason was just happy to be there, he had everything he could ever ask for and he was taken in by Batman! Oh, boy- oh, boy! He would hide under the cape and yell boo to all the petty criminals Bruce let him fight. Until he couldn’t anymore. 

Tim had the easiest life prior to donning the R on his chest. After that, he was the worst Robin. Not because he was bad; Tim was arguably the best Robin during his career but because he never got to experience the things Dick or Jason had. He was left picking up the pieces after Jason’s death, holding Bruce together to the best of his abilities. He went out on patrols alone, with no cape to hide under or any grumpy adult to hold in a chuckle. 

Stephanie wanted to prove a point, she pushed Bruce in ways Tim didn’t. But in the end, she was pushed to the side. No one even remembers her time as Robin. The girl Robin, the blonde one. It was only what… seventy-five days? Why would anyone remember her? Forgotten in the murky waters of Batman’s timeline. Erased. 

Damian wasn’t as fortunate. He didn’t come from Gotham or a traveling circus hiding a cult. He came from the Ra’s Al-Ghul, he came from the demon head. Born a killer, bathed in the pit— his life was cursed from the beginning. Sorrow and rot; that’s what his life was even after he put on the Robin suit. Despite being the only Robin connected to Batman by blood, he was the biggest outside in the bunch. 

He couldn’t do anything right. He kept messing up— his father was constantly disappointed by him and he couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. He’s doing what he was taught— the blade. He hadn’t meant to take another life— he was trying to be better. But he doesn’t realize when he’s going too far because, for him, the limit didn’t exist until less than a year ago.

You could relate to that… all too well. 

“What do you want?” Damian grits when he spots you on his desk, messing with one of his countless knives. He hides his face, not wanting to show a weakness— his weakness. “I thought father threw you out.” Some time ago, maybe two months ago, you and Bruce had gotten into an explosive argument that ended with a frozen pork chop on your eye and a frozen bag of peas on his chin before he told you never to come back.

“He did,” You hum, unfurling yourself from the desk and standing tall. “I know the security system— and Pennyworth let me back inside.” You smile. 

“Pennyworth shows little loyalty to father,” He spits, sitting on the bed. 

“He shows plenty, Damian. He knows something that Bruce doesn’t, at the moment.” You tilt your head as you add the last part. Bruce will find out sooner than later anyway, might as well tell him.

“And what’s that?” He asks arms crossed as he glares at you. You look away and huff, rolling your head onto your shoulder. 

“I need his opinion on something, something important.” 

“And you’re in my room?”

“I also wanted to speak to you,” You admit. “You’ve been here long enough for us to continue the tradition.” He pauses, hand settling on the dagger he keeps in his pocket. 

“What sort of tradition?” The only traditions he’s used to are fights or death; neither of which is he in the mood for. 

“Nothing like the League, I can assure you. I.. I take all the Robins on a… bonding trip after they’ve settled in.” You explain, now sitting on a chair. “I took Jason to the arcade and a library in Prague, Tim to my family’s annual barbecue and fishing, and Stephanie to this spa retreat for the weekend. It’s your turn.”

“Why would I care for this… bonding trip?” He asks, setting the dagger down. “I’m not like the others— I’m better. I don’t need some stupid trip with a rejected hero,” Shrugging, you look at the mirror on his wardrobe. You see Damian, sitting while glaring at you. You see yourself, staring at the signs of age and tiredness on your, admittedly, not old body. 

“Talk to the others about it, just not Richie. He never got one.” Leaving, Damian thinks for a second before he follows after you. As quiet as a mouse, he slips into the cave after you, clinging to the darkness as he’s been trained to do. 

“Is it that time already?” Dick asks when you enter with your hands in your pockets. He’d been talking with Bruce about something, but he was too far to hear. Bruce spins around, looking you up and down with a watchful gaze. 

“I have news,” You roll your eyes when Dick pulls you into a hug. “About my assignment.”

“No one assigned you to it,” Bruce reminds you, guilt flashing over his eyes. You shrug and lean against your older brother, your head resting on his shoulder. He squeezes your arm, happy to see you again. He’s always been happy to see his first baby brother safe and sound; at home. 

“I found their base; took them down, too.” You tell them, fighting the urge to tuck into yourself. “They were hiding out in Australia.”

“Did you kill them?” Bruce asks. Damian pressed against a rock, his small figure hidden perfectly as he watched the three of you. You don’t answer, but your eyes drift to the ground when Bruce sighs through his nose. “I have one rule.”

“I know,” You stress, pulling away from Dick. “I know! But I didn’t mean to! But they wouldn’t give me any other choice; do you think I wanted to kill them? I tried to save them,”

“Clearly not hard enough,” Bruce blinks and Damian falters in the same way you did. Bruce had said the same thing to him not even three hours ago. “You should’ve contacted me. I could’ve saved them.”

“I tried,” You stress. “I called and I sent letters. I- I— You never answered me! I didn’t want to kill them!” 

“B,” Dick puts a hand on your shoulder as you sniff and look away. “You know that they wouldn’t go; he had to.” 

“We could’ve—“

“God! You’d think after raising one child assassin he'd be better at this.” You spit and wipe your nose. “You’re still shit at helping us.”

“(Y/n),” Bruce sighs. “You know I love you and I love Damian, you’re my sons.” He holds your shoulder and you falter, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Hell of a way of showing it.” He doesn’t apologize, Bruce doesn’t know the word sorry but he hugs you. You don’t hug back, just pat his shoulder until he pulls away.

“I’m glad you’re home safe.” He whispers before he finally pulls away. “It’s a shame you had to kill them.” Nodding, you look at Dick. 

“I had to kill my parents,” You admit, trying to keep yourself composed when he frowns and immediately hugs you. “They kept calling me and calling me, begging me to join them again. I couldn’t… I’m tired of killing. I see them when I sleep, their faces. Their blood was so warm.”

Damian looks away, flashes of the people he’s killed plays through his mind and he leaves the cave. He needs to be alone. His eyes are stinging and he’s sure if he breathes any harder he’s going to be spotted.

“Aside from that,” You clear your throat and fix your clothes. “Damian’s been Robin for… some time now. It’s nearing the time where I take the new Robin out for a trip.” 

“If he agrees,” Bruce nods. 

“I still haven’t been taken out for a trip,” Dick dramatically sighs. 

“You’re older than me. You’re supposed to take me.” 

“Can I?” He gleams and you shake your head with a smile before walking away. “Please!”

“No, Dickie. You suck at planning,”

—

You don’t spend the night at the manor; it hasn’t felt like home in years. You hate your old room, you hate how Bruce hasn’t touched it since you’ve gone; everything besides that stupid broken picture frame. It’s been swept up, and replaced with a different frame. 

And somehow, the picture that was inside sits on your kitchen island. 

Your current place is temporary, rented out on a monthly basis with some shady landlord you don’t truly care about. The lease is hardly a day old, so for someone to have known where you lived they must’ve been recently following you. For them to have access to the picture they’ve been in the manor. Because that’s the same picture, you know because there’s an inky, smudged fingerprint on the back. 

“You were close to my father?” Damian asks as you enter the living room, still holding the picture in your loose grip. 

“Thick as thieves,” You grin, although there’s no happiness or warmth behind it. Setting the table on the side table, you sit next to Damian. 

“You mentioned your family's barbecue earlier but they’re assassins. Assassins don’t do family barbecues,” He should know. 

“Different family,” You breathe in, staring down at him while he looks around the dingy apartment. “I… My blood family are assassins and yeah; no family barbecues. But eh… I’m sort of married,” You laugh and his head snaps to you. “Yup, I got married at twenty. Love of my life, they’re wonderful. I consider their family my own,” He tuts at the idea of love and you remember yourself doing the same thing when you were his age. 

“I assume they know?”

“My spouse does, yes. Their family… do not. It’s not exactly something they’d want to hear about their son-in-law.”

“Does father know you’re married?” 

“No— maybe,” You shrug. “If he does he’s never mentioned it. I don’t hide it but I never bring them around him.” He tuts and stands up. You watch with a careful eye as he struts into your kitchen and steps up to the counter, climbing to reach the cabinet and then standing to reach the top shelf to grab a cup. He rinses it out before opening the fridge. 

His nose turns up at the options and you hold back a laugh, watching as he picks out the water jug before pouring himself a glass. He sniffs the water, eyeing you wearily before holding the cup to you. 

God, you’d done the same exact thing to Bruce when you first arrived. 

Taking a sip, he seems content when you don’t have a reaction other than pouring yourself a cup and slowly sipping his drink.

“I assume you’re from the Shadows?” He’s strutting back to the couch while you lean against the counter, holding the cup by the rim with the ends of your fingers. 

“Shadow adjacent. Subsection created about fifty years back,” 

“So you were born into it?” He sets the now empty cup on the table and picks up the picture, carefully examining it, and then checks the date on the back. “For twelve years before you met Father.”

“I was,” You nod. “Joined Bruce and Dickie.”

“Before you gave up.” He adds. You laugh, shaking your head before finishing your water in one big gulp. 

“Damian, I didn’t give up. I was… I couldn’t live up to Bruce’s expectations. It’s hard not killing but I tried. I tried for years. But every time I went out someone died. So, I learned to use computers, I stayed in the cave and watched over everyone. I was the Oracle before Oracle was a thing.” 

“You were a coward,” He corrects with a tight voice. “You gave up and hid inside of the cave when you could’ve helped people!” 

“Damian. It’s not cowardly to stop trying. Because I did eventually go back, but it was under my rules. I stopped listening to Bruce’s voice, his rules, his insane expectations. Dick mentioned you like Veil?”

“I do,” He gives one curt nod. “They’re effective and father gives them high praise.”

“That’s me, Damian.” You grin and for a moment, his jaw goes slack but he quickly composes himself. “You can call Bruce. I have the suit in my closet… help yourself, I guess,” Watching as he rushes into your bedroom, he shuffles through clothes before he pulls out your suit. 

“I suppose you’re not a coward.” He settles in when he neatly puts the suit back in its spot. 

—

“Yes, Bruce?” You sigh, phone placed between your ear and shoulder as you’re sorting through laundry. “What do you want from me? My soul? My last piece of self-worth?”

“(Y/n),” He sighs that old man sigh he’s started doing after Jason came back and he realized he had to deal with two homicidal sons. Three now. “Damian has requested you at the manor.”

“Tell him I want to experience the Robin Trip.” You hear Damian say and you smile. “Father, tell him!” He demands and you think you can hear him stomping his foot. 

“He wants you to take him on the Robin Trip,” Bruce relays. 

“I’ll be there in an hour. Pack enough clothes for about five days. Nothing fancy, either.”

You arrive in your trusty mom van. It’s a lovely seven-seater with plenty of trunk space and a rack on the top. Of course, Alfred wouldn’t let you just stay in the driveway. No, it was late so of course, you had to stay for dinner and you’ll leave in the morning. Pinky promise. 

“Reject is back,” Jason grins, giving you a tight hug. You hug him back, swaying him from side to side. You’d missed him when you came over the week prior; something Dick says he simply will not stop complaining about. 

“Oh, hey,” Tim looks up from his dinner plate and offers a nod. You never did get too close to him; he never wanted an older brother. He wanted Bruce and you simply weren’t him. You nod back, running your fingers along Jason’s head before he shoves your hand away; chiding that he’s not a kid anymore. 

“Hmph!” Damian stands between you and Jason, arms crossed as he looks between the two of you. You smile and ruffle his hair despite his protests and threats. 

“Staying for dinner?” Bruce asks from the head of the table, reading the daily newspaper. Even though it’s well into the afternoon, almost night. 

“At Pennyworth's insistence,” You nod, detaching yourself from Jason and Damian. “Unless there’s an issue with that.” You add. 

“No,” He shakes his head while setting the paper down. “None at all, please, stay. There’s always a room open for you.”

“Aside from the times he kicks us out,” Jason pretends to whisper while Dick barrels down the stairs. You think he did trip at some point but he caught himself. 

“I missed you!” He squeezes you just as tightly as you’d squeezed Jason and you cringe, patting his back. Jason snickers while Damian tuts and heads to his seat at the table.

“You saw me last week, Dickie.” You’re put back on your feet and Dick sighs, leaning away from the hug but holds you still. 

“After not seeing you for months!” He adds, the smile dropping as he checks you over. This time in proper lighting. “God, leaving me here alone with Bruce. I’ve had to smile every single day with him waiting for you.” He mutters just loud enough that you can hear. 

“Not like I had a choice,” You grit, eyes flickering to the table. “Dinner?” You sigh. 

“Yes, do take a seat.” Alfred smiles. “I’ve prepared your favorite, Master (Y/n).”

“You shouldn’t have,” You smile at him. 

“You really shouldn’t have,” Jason sighs and turns to Damian. “He has the worst taste in food.” 

“Jason, not everyone likes burgers dipped in cheese and barbecue sauce.”

“Exactly,” He nods as if you’ve proved his point.

Surprisingly, dinner goes off without a hitch. There were not more than ten snarky remarks, not once did someone awkwardly fake cough to move the conversation along, and everyone’s food remained on their plates. 

“Where will we be going?” Damian asks after insisting he walks you to your bedroom. 

“You’ll see,” You grin. “I think you’ll like it.” 

“I do not like none-answers,” He huffs, crossing his arms. “You could be leading me into a trap.”

“Bruce approved,” Is all you’re willing to give him. It satiates him for now and he stands at your door, waiting for you to go inside. “Be ready by five, we should leave early.”

“Alright,” He nods and walks away before stopping midstep. “Sleep well, (Y/n).”

“Goodnight, Damian.” He nods and continues into his room. 

—

At five on the dot, Damian knocks on your door. You open it, already dressed and packed. He’s the same, with a large bag slung over his shoulders and an almost happy expression on his face. 

“Head downstairs, I need a couple of things.” He hums and turns on his heel while you look around your room. Grabbing one of the first books you’d fallen in love with, you slip it into your bag and then your first-ever sketchbook. 

Once you’re downstairs, Alfred hands you a metal mug with your favorite breakfast drink, then a neatly wrapped breakfast sandwich, and then a light lunch. He knows you won’t stay for breakfast and wishes you farewell. You thank him and load up the minivan, Damian sits in the passenger seat and you have to question if he should be in the back. And in a booster seat. 

For some reason, you don’t think he’d take to sitting in a booster seat. 

Driving off, you play calm music and sip your drink. He’s quietly eating next to you, careful to not get crumbs in the car. He falls asleep halfway into the drive, his head hanging in an awkward position so you maneuver to lower the seat for him. He stirs awake, grabbing your wrist as you’re moving away but he drops it once he realizes it’s you and slowly falls back asleep. 

Eventually, you reach your farm. A lovely place in a lovely town that has flea markets every Friday and everyone keeps their doors unlocked. 

Your land is sectioned off by a lovely oak fence, spreading across the eight acres, a dull red mailbox with the hand up greets you and you check the box. There’s a small package and two letters that you toss onto the dashboard. 

Damian wakes up as you’re driving up, his eyes finding the cows and chickens you keep lazily chewing on the grass. He sees a wild fox, chasing a wild rabbit through the lawn, scaring a group of pigs inside of their pen in front of a horse stable.

He sniffs the air, confused. It doesn’t smell like livestock and he knows how livestock farms smell. 

“Where are we?” He asks, craning his neck to look behind him. There’s nothing but open fields for miles but he can see a house in the distance. 

“My house,” He turns back to you. “I have a homestead— it’s just a fancy word for living on a farm, really.” 

“You do believe in botulism, correct?” He sneers, stepping out of the van. You bark a laugh and nod. 

“I’m not crazy about it— I just raise my animals and tend to my crops when I’m not out being Veil.”

“Why would you decide to live here?” He asks and you notice his tone isn’t as harsh as it once was. His eyes scan over your fields with a look almost similar to contentment. He looks at the cow with a fondness you can share while you collect your bags. “You’re an assassin, not a farmer.”

“I can be many things,” You shrug. “I’m a farmer, a vigilante, a painter, a former assassin. I’m not bound by one thing. Don’t you have hobbies?”

“I have no time for such trivial matters,” He turns his nose up as he pushes inside the house. 

“Ra’s is a doctor on the side. Dick is a detective. Jason takes care of the orphaned kids. Tim runs a company. I’ve seen his skateboard collection. I’ve seen Dick teach gymnastics at the local gyms. Bruce has his charities and all of his foundations. Jason has an enormous collection of books.”

“I only read informative books, anything else is a waste of my time.”

“Maybe,” You shrug. “Let me show you to your room, you’ll settle down and then meet me in the kitchen. Take as much time as you need, there’s no rush.” He nods and you show him to the guest room. It’s incredibly plain but nice. You shut the door behind you and text Bruce that you’ve arrived without any hiccups. He doesn’t reply but you see that he’s read the text and you go about your day. 

You have a pair of old working boots from your spouse's nephew visiting; they should fit Damian just fine. Setting them on the bench, you slip yours on and wait for him. He doesn’t take long, walking down with careful eyes until he sees you. 

���I assume I’m to wear these?” You nod and he tuts, slipping them on. “What type of training is this?” 

“You’re going to learn patience and to enjoy life.” You smile, ruffling his hair before tossing him an egg basket. 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

—

Dick reacts with hearts as you're sending him pictures of Damian collecting duck and chicken eggs. Videos of him milking cows and cleaning out the pig pens. He’s glad that Damian is having fun, each picture and video seems to have Damian in a better mood. You send him pictures of his drawings and he remarks that he’s already talented with a pencil. You don’t tell him that he’s gotten into reading, too. But you do tell Jason, swearing him to secrecy. 

You look up at Damian as he sits on your porch, an easel and canvas in front of him as he paints your backyard. It’s only been three days but you’d like to think you’ve made an impression on him. He’s woken up earlier than you to feed the animals, he enjoys talking to them and tells you that your defenses are subpar. So you took him into town to grab items to make your fence stronger. 

He hated when the townsfolk would coo at him, remark that he’s such a strong boy for carrying the wood and bags while you carried the metal and other bags. You wonder how he’s going to like the flea market. You hope it won’t be overwhelming for him; you know it was for you the first time you went. 

“What happens when they die?” He suddenly asks, still painting one of your cows. Looking up from your phone, you stare at the back of his head and then the painting. 

“You know how I’m a metahuman, right?” He nods. “I can… see how much longer anything living has. And I can communicate with animals, so, I tell them. I tell them that they don’t have much longer. Sometimes they ask to be left in peace. To die naturally. Other times they tell me to get it over with; they’re ready. If they ask that, I’ll… take them to the butcher. They agree, of course.”

“So the meat we’ve eaten these past days…”

“That was from my chicken Mile and my cow Dan-Loop.”

“Why? How could you?” You notice that his grip on the paintbrush is tightening and you inch closer to him. 

“Because it’s what they wanted. They know they’re farm animals, they know that humans eat their meat. They know. And some of them don’t care. They live happily here. And I give them the option of what they want to do. One time, one of my pigs was dying and SeaSaw told them that he wanted to be released. Travel as far as he could before he returned to the Earth. I watched that pig run and run for a while before he turned and looked at me. He thanked me and went up that hill and stared at the sunset.”

“Isn’t it hard?” He asks. “Raising all these animals knowing you’re going to outlive them.”

“It is. But I also know that I’m giving them an amazing life. It’s better than them being stuck in cruel mills. They’re seen and heard. And trust me, if those ducks and chickens were angry, your hand would be picked at for trying to take their eggs.” Damian nods, looking down at you. You’re looking at your animals, taking in the setting sun. 

“Do you think father would let me start a farm?”

“Maybe. Ask him on a good day. If he does, you can take Jerry. He likes you,” Damian beams, knowing exactly which animal you’re talking about. 

“Okay, thank you.”

—

“Why did you leave and come here?” Damian asks as you’re driving to the flea market. “You mentioned you couldn’t stand being around father.” The question makes you think about your years with Bruce, all the things he’d taught, and the things you spent years unlearning. Things weren’t all bad with Bruce, though. You still cherish your fond memories like the first time he’d taken you to the ice cream parlor or when he’d taken you to the Monterey Bay Aquarium after he saw you watching Nemo too many times in a row for it to be a simple obsession. 

“Bruce and I have a complicated history. And sometimes, to love someone, you need to stay away. I can’t see your father too often; it’s too painful. I care about him; I’m sure he cares about me but it’s too much. We’re too different. And coming here was like…” You purse your lips. “I was finally free from what I'd become. I could live a separate life from my place in the family. I had no obligations here; I made it my own.”

“What’s your place?” He asks, sparing you a glance. 

“I wasn’t the best at what I did. I was angry, a lot. I don’t know if you’ve met yet, but Mr. Fox would say I was moodier than Bruce. I was violent; I wasn’t sure of my place in any of this. I kept trying to prove myself to Bruce but I kept failing. I felt like a mistake for a long while.” He looks down at his lap, messing with his jeans before he speaks up again. 

“What made that feeling go away?”

“Getting hobbies.” You admit. “I drew a lot. I made friends. I got closer to Dick and Jason. I removed Bruce from that pedestal and saw him for the man he is. Not as the man I wanted him to be.” 

“What man is he?”

“He’s like us. He’s flawed and he makes mistakes. He’s not perfect and neither are we. We’re all trying. Now, come on. Your father gave you five thousand so you can buy whatever you want.”

He smiles and grabs the bag from the dashboard, leaving you in the dust while he admires the homemade objects people are selling.

[forest-fire-witness]

i am in a constant state of searching for the crux of my being, so that i can destroy who i am, and find manumission from the rotten stench of my identity. and maybe then i would be a worthy recipent of love.

[thoughtspeaker]

Sometimes the only nonverbal moments are during moments of extreme stress or panic(and believe me, I've had plenty of those moments, having been known as the crybaby kid way back in elementary), where even when I wanted to say something, or even try to explain why I was upset, all I could do was hyperventilate, cry, and wait it out.

I've gotten better with it over time, but it really wasn't fun, going to school and crying basically daily.

And hey, I don't speak for even CLOSE to everyone whose autistic. I'm just saying how my own experience with it has been! I just wish I'd known sooner honestly...

When my mum looked into the possibility of me being autistic when I was a kid, the information she could find said I would have to be nonverbal and unable to read.

While it's true that some autistic people are nonverbal some or all of the time, or may struggle with reading or be dyslexic, neither of those are a requirement to be autistic.

Every autistic person is different.

(I'm pretty sure I was hyperlexic.)

[yanoverload]

Yandere Serial Killer

Here everyone! Again sorry for the mess with changing the order of release, but it is what it is, anyway *punching yandere serial killer into a pulp cutely*

I love detective x serial killer, but I always wanted to see a defense lawyer x serial killer, you two have the same principle, but took different paths you know? 

Also the hate from one and obsession from the other. Yummy.

Being a defense attorney was a herculean task sometimes.

Accusing people of anything is the easiest part, you thought, but to defend someone you just met a few weeks ago? Exhausting.

But you never got into law school to have an easy job. You made it so far, so you could bring justice to the crooked system.

Your father was accused of a crime he never committed, put on death row when you were still a babe. Never will your family forget the looks of disgust received. It's easy to frame a poor family. Imagine the anguish the rich guy, your dad's boss, the one that actually did the deed, must feel.

As if. He is probably snickering at how his attorney was worth every corrupted dime.

Never should anyone go through the tears your grandparents did when they had to say goodbye to their only son. Never again will your mom be ostracized for being a single mother, the wife of a criminal.

Defending the injusticed was your life goal, to bring the actual monsters to their own consequences was your pride and joy, and damn were you good at your job.

But things got a bit mixed when corpses started to show up.

Before the culprits you helped sentence could pay for their deeds, they would be found dead, put in a twisted artistic display by the freak that did it.

Exhausting.

Thank fuck you had strong alibis and a great reputation amongst the public, because if not, you figured you would be suspect number 0.

Whoever did it, was apparently playing vigilante with your own life. And you hated it.

But people talk. And they were starting to love it.

It's funny how public justice works sometimes. That was never your intent. It started as a form of revenge sure, but it was first and foremost to help the disgraced.

When your dad's old boss was found mushed beyond recognition is when your mind decided enough was enough.

You tell the people closest to you, your police colleagues, other lawyers you respect, the forensic doctors you spent nights with, that you plan to resign.

They tell you not to, that you should keep doing what you love. But you can't handle the guilt anymore. 

Saying goodbye to the police chief after your conversation about the retirement, you find a letter at your doorstep. It smells like fancy perfume. You are certain it is only a family member of one of your clients, but how would they know where you live?

The letter was like those with cut magazine letters, and you feel a shiver down your spine. While you read, you feel like you're being watched.

"Why would you retire? I did for you silly. To see your work, you defend the innocent. You don't understand how we are one in the same.

How would you feel if an innocent was convicted and you did nothing, because you left the law? Because it CAN happen."

You feel your blood rising, and you crumpled the letter full of hate

This motherfucker. They are worse than hell on earth.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Some more facts about him! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Heo Dae-ho (name is Dae-ho, surname is Heo) is a prodigy law student, he has everything, money, looks, and an influential family. 

His mom is a heart surgeon, his dad a forensic doctor.

His parents are strict but loving. They would do anything for their baby boy.

At first they were worried that Dae-ho would be a bum, since even though at school he was captain of the swimming team, had multiple trophies in whatever you could imagine, he had no passion in his steps.

They knew their child was different. But what else could they do apart from loving him and raising him? They also had an image to maintain.

That was until he mentioned wanting to go to law school. Dad was happy, it wasn't medical school, but it was still a great choice.

Mom thanked the gods her son wouldn't touch those in need of medical care, but she would never say that.

His parents are Korean immigrants. He can speak English and Korean, a bit of French.

Never had any flings at college. He is saving himself for you.

Probably has a fanclub of people that love him at college, and one for his.... Other persona.

Has been in your trials before to "learn".

Height: 181 cm (5'11 feet)

[thelargefrye]

SWEET SORROW OF EVIL … series (21+)

CHAPTER ONE : ALL HAIL THE QUEEN | M.LIST

pairing : ateez x evil queen!f!reader

genre : mature, fantasy au, royalty au, angst, eventually poly relationship, dark

word count : 3.7k

warnings : language, ostracized (from family), kidnapping, weapons, murder / death, blood / body gore

co-author : @sanjoongie !!

she rules her kingdom well, sitting upon her throne, but what is a queen without her trusted advisor? what is a queen without making sure the rats stay in line? surely, even the queen has secrets that make her the most cursed of all.

You never understood why your siblings saw you as a threat. You, a simple child and youngest to the throne. And really... you'll probably never understand why, especially your sister. You can vividly remember her scowl that she always wore when looking at you.

She was always such a pretty girl, if it wasn't for that scowl and ugly attitude she had. You think she gets it from your parents.

"Ugh, get away from us, y/n! We don't want you near us!" your sister shouted before she harshly shoved you away from her and your brother. You let out a small grunt as you fell to the ground. The palms of your hands scraping against the dirt and uprooted tree roots.

"But why can't I play with you guys? You never let me play!" you wanted to know why your siblings pushed you away just like your parents.

Your sister let out an annoyed sound, like you should already know the answer for why she didn't want you around, "Because you're nothing but a freak. A monster," she answers as she crosses her arms.

You felt like shrinking away from her harsh stare. You wanted to disappear so you didn't have to hear her harsh words again. Carefully, you stood up and brushed your dress off. The palms burned from the scrapes from your fall, but you pushed the pain to the back of your mind.

"Mother and father should have just gotten rid of you, you bring nothing but shame to our family," she says and you feel the tears beginning to sting your eyes as they form at your waterline. No, you can't cry, don't let her see you cry.

You can't help but look towards your brother. He said nothing throughout all of this, just remained silent by your sister's side. Watching as she and your parents berate you. You could see he was conflicted about how they always talked down to you, but he never said anything. You hated how he was a coward like that.

"Why are you always so mean to me? You're supposed to be my big sister and care about me, not call me mean names!" You tell her and you see her look at you with surprise for a moment before her usual frown paints her face again.

She lets out another annoyed tsk before she's walking up to you, bending down slightly to meet your height. "Why would I care about a monster like you? You're nothing but a curse that stains this family."

You couldn't help the sudden rush of anger that flows through you. It all happened so fast with your sister's words continuously stabbing at your heart and your brother's pitiful stare. It was all too much.

So you shoved your sister harshly away from you and as hard as your ten-year-old body could muster. This sudden action took your sister off guard as she stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground. Her movements mimic yours from moments ago.

You also noted the loud tearing sound that accompanied her fall and all three of you noticed the large tear that appeared in her dress. You didn't have to say anything as your sister's screaming overpowered anything that you would have said.

"You fucking freak! You ripped my new dress!" Her shrill screams made you flinch and you noticed from the corner of your eye that your brother did the same thing.

"What in the world is going on here?" you felt a chill run down your spine as the sound of your mother's voice. Your blood ran cold knowing that this wasn't going to end well for you now that she was here. She would immediately believe what your sister said, because even though her words hurt, you would always be seen as a monster to your mother.

"Y/n ripped my new dress mother!" Your sister said, eyes immediately brimming with large tears. Fake, they were fake tears, yet they fooled your mother.

"What?" Your mother gasped looking at your sister with worry and then turned to you with a harsh scowl. Your sister is the spitting image of your mother. "How dare you rip your sister's dress! Who do you think you are?"

"B-but I didn't–

"Shut up!" She cuts you off with her loud voice and it makes you shrink away and into yourself. You hated yourself for being so afraid of her, but you had no other choice but to submit to her. She was more powerful than you and you knew what would happen if you disobeyed her. "Get out of my sight, child, before I punish you."

You didn't waste any time in turning on your heel and running in whatever direction would get you the furthest from your family. Tears filled your vision as you ran, making everything around you blurry and hard to see and before you knew it, you were lost. Lost in the garden maze with stinging palms and burning tears.

Rubbing your tears away, you took a deep breath before you made your way over to the stone bench that was nearby. Now alone, you couldn't help the thoughts that poured into your brain. You never understood why your family hated you, calling you a monster even though you have done nothing.

It just didn't make sense.

"Y/n!" you raised your head at the sound of your name. The voice brings a familiar feeling to your body as you feel your heart skip a beat. "Y/n! Princess!"

"Jongho!" you called back, hopping off the bench and walking towards the sound of your friend's voice.

Suddenly you felt an embrace wrap around you. Jongho held you as tightly as he could, his arms squeezing you and comforting you. The embrace felt nice and warm and you felt yourself tear up knowing that Jongho was here with you.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He asks when he steps away from you, just enough to look over you before he notices your scratched up palms. "Your hands," he gasps as he takes them within his own, "we have to get them treated!"

"What's the point, Jongho?"

"The point? Y/n, you're injured and need to be treated," he says, why does he sound so mature for his young age.

"When did you get so serious sounding, Jongho?"

"Since I decided that I will be the protector of your heart," he says, his face the most serious you have ever seen it. You couldn't help but crack a smile at his words, "Don't laugh! I'm serious!"

"Sorry, sorry," you say, still laughing, but you're suddenly cut off by Jongho hugging you again.

"I mean it. I promise you will never cry like this again. Not by your family and not by anyone else."

"Thank you, Jongho."

“Y/n, are you listening?” the sound of Jongho’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back to the present. You let out a sigh before you’re straightening yourself up on your throne. Your eyes settle on Jongho and the line of councilmen before the two of you.

“What did you say?” 

Jongho sends you a curt look before brushing off some invisible dust as he speaks again, “we wanted to discuss dates for your upcoming coronation.”

“Coronation? Jongho, I do not need something silly and insignificant like a coronation when I am already queen.”

“But your highness,” a councilman says before shrinking a little under your stare, “i-it is mandatory for the new ruler to have a coronation for it to be made official.”

“Are you saying that I am not officially queen, councilman?”

“N-no, that’s not what he’s saying at all, your highness!” another one spoke up trying to save his fellow councilman and friend. 

“What they are trying to say is that a coronation would make it more official, your highness. Let the country and all the other ones know that there is a new and better ruler for Illimité,” Jongho says, finally stepping in and not wanting the councilmen to it up more than they already have. He internally rolled his eyes at how they were basically shaking in their boots in front of you. 

“I still don’t think it’s necessary,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning further back into the plush cushions of your throne. You note it had to be replaced after… that night. Which is probably for the better since this throne is a lot more comfortable than the original one your father and ancestors had previously. 

“But think about it, my queen,” Jongho says, leaning closer to you so all your attention becomes immediately focused on him. His scent of paper and ink fills your nostrils and brings a calming presence in the otherwise tense throne room. “By sending invitations out, we can see who really supports you as Illimité’s queen.” 

“Oh?” Jongho sees the gears begin to turn in your head, and he knows that he’s got you. “Well… I mean when you put it that way, I guess having a coronation wouldn’t be so bad. But make the responses mandatory! Anyone who doesn’t respond within a week we will pay some personal visits to.”

Jongho lets out a chuckle at your words, “of course, my queen.” He then turns to the awaiting councilmen, all still wide-eyed and waiting for either him or you to give a command. “Begin making the invitations for the queen’s coronation.” 

The councilmen all bow before turning and filing out of the throne room, muttering to themselves and you find yourself letting your thoughts consume you once again.

All you could hear was your ragged breathing. You couldn't decide if it was because of your anger or your heartache. You tried to breath through your mouth because if you breathed through your nose, you were sure you were going to throw up. 

The only thing that brought you back to reality was a commotion outside of the doors that your magic had kept shut. It was muffled at first, voices getting louder and louder, until finally one clear voice cut through everything.

“Y/N!” Jongho cried through the door. “Let me in, let me see her!”

“We are not the ones keeping the doors closed, young Lord Choi,” a guard said on the other side.

You took a shaky step towards the doors, which felt like they were a million miles away, and then another. You slipped and yelped as you crashed into something slimy and foul smelling. You gagged and cried out, throwing it away from you.

“Y/N! What’s going on? I can help! Let me in,” Jongho cajoled from the other side of the door.

“Jong-jongho,” You cried out pitifully, “You can’t.”

“Please y/n, please,” Jongho begged, “It’s my duty.”

Your hands slipped in pools of blood as you attempted to stand up again. “Your duty is to a monster!” You screamed back.

You had just murdered your entire family. Part was planned, but part was by accident. If only--! You couldn't risk Jongho, you’d never risk Jongho. You’d stay in this nightmare of a throne room for the rest of your life if that meant you kept Jongho safe.

“You’d never hurt me, y/n,” Jongho shouted, “You and I both know that. Now let me in!” 

“Jongho…” You weren’t sure if the wetness moving down your face was blood or tears.

“I command it!” Jongho said courageously, although his voice sounded like he was worried, “I’m in charge of your heart so you have to listen to me, remember!”

Somehow you managed to stand up, stumble towards the large doors but couldn't pull them open; they were too large for you, especially covered in blood… “I can’t, Jongho,” You sobbed through the door, “I can’t!”

Jongho breathed in and out, his voice still coming from the seam of the doors. “You can do it. I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to the seam. You imagined Jongho coming through the doors, the wide, gummy smile taking up most of his face. He was your constant in a dark world alone. You needed light in this darkness right now.

You backed up and threw your hands up. You imagined the doors opening and then with a groan, they did. You blinked and threw up a hand to shield your eyes from the stark light. Then something hit you.

“Y/N!”

Jongho embraced you in a hug that felt like it broke your ribs but it was so genuine, so full of worry and love, that you accepted it and prayed that the monster side of you wouldn’t see it as a threat. Then, just as fast as he was on you, he put you at arm's length, eyes moving along your body, but there was too much blood to tell if you were actually harmed.

“We have to get you in the bath immediately!” Jongho informed you with a frown. 

You laughed bitterly. “I don’t think a bath is going to wash this all away, Jongho.”

Jongho’s frown eased as he sensed the underlying words in your sentence. “The only thing that needs to be washed away is the blood. You are the queen, after all.”

“You are the queen, after all.”

You shook your head to dispel your old memories. Something about today had really made you contemplative of what you’ve got through. Perhaps it was Jongho, who’s own life was so interlaced with your own. 

“I suspect that there are some that still see me as the sickly child that they only heard of,” You mused, eyes still on the rolling hills that sped by. 

Jongho’s lips pushed out and his eyebrows furrowed. “That was a lifetime ago. Even I practically can’t remember…” His words trailed off as he saw you hold your hands up, flipping them up and down.

Immediately, he grabbed them. “They’re clean, y/n. Even if they were covered in blood, they’re still clean.”

You sent Jongho a brief smile and then allowed your mantle of royalty slip back on. Your back straightened, your shoulders were back, and your chin up high. “Let’s hope Lady Danvers sees the blood.”

“That is, if she can spare a few thoughts for anything other than her dogs,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

“Perhaps that’s why she did not respond,” You mused, Jongho slowly but surely pulling you from your contemplative mood. “One of the doggos ate--”

A resounding boom that sounded nothing like thunder echoed through the carriage, halting your words. 

“What in the nine hells was that?” Jongho demanded. 

He stuck his head out the window but when you heard a scream, you grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pulled him back in. “Let the guards do their job,” You hissed. 

Riders whipped by and soon the carriage was slowed down. You gathered your magic around you, about to inflict walking nightmares on whomever dared attack you, when an arm shot through the windows on Jongho’s side and a knife appeared pointer at his neck.

“One wrong move and I slit his throat,” the bandit growled.

You felt all your magic drain from you, and all the blood from your face. You held up your hands in an act of showing you offered no harm, hoping nothing would happen to Jongho. 

“I'll do as you say.”

“Slowly now, old chap,” the bandit instructed.

Jongho stepped out of the carriage and all you could focus on was the knife at Jongho’s throat. You hadn't felt this helpless since before your family’s murder.

“You're going to deliver ten chests full of gold and jewels,” Another bandit said, drawing your attention. “We'll keep your advisor hostage until we receive our dues. Then, we'll give him back to you once we've carted away our treasure.”

“Alive,” You snarled.

“Alive, aye,” the bandit agreed. “So long as you don't follow us and try to murder us, your advisor will remain on this plane.”

Jongho began to struggle in the bandit’s grasp. “It's a trap, Your Majesty! They want you to appear weak. Kill them! Kill them all!”

You had to use all your control to not retaliate as blood appeared at Jongho’s neck. “Shut up and do as they say, Jongho.”

Jongho stopped at your command but his eyes burned still with suppressed anger on your behalf. Jongho would do whatever it took to uphold your image as the queen in control… even if that meant sacrificing himself in the process.

But you would never allow that. 

“I will bring you all that you deserve,” You vowed. “And you will return to me what is mine.”

Jongho's face became pink when your words sunk in. Good. Then perhaps he would truly understand that he was NEVER expendable.

“Until then.” The bandit swept his floppy hat in a bow and the other dragged Jongho backwards, fading into the forest around the dirt road you had been travelling along. 

“Your Majesty,” One of your guards approached, wincing at a wound at his side. “Are you truly going to give into their demands?”

“Of course not,” You replied simply. “But I will require you all to go back to the castle.”

“But--”

You held up a hand. “Leave two horses, that is all I need. But you will follow my commands to the letter. You’re not going to be very good guards if you die.”

The soldier saluted by pounding a fist over his heart and then he started to order the other’s to gather the injured and to leave two horses. 

Once they were all cleared out, you grabbed the reins of the horses and led them into the forest, following the bath of the bandits. It wasn’t hard; they left the forest a mess with broken branches and sliced foliage. Halfway you secured the horses to a low hanging branch and then began to discard your clothes. 

It was time to pull out your ultimate trump card: changing into the beast form you had been cursed with at birth. 

You bent to all fours on the ground, holding in your screams as your body transformed into a shape that was completely opposite of your human form. Your arms and legs elongated, as did your head. Your teeth became sharp and your human thoughts pushed to the back. You needed the animalistic brain to come to the forefront if you were to accomplish your task.

Once your cursed beast form was complete, you began to gallop the rest of the way. Your nostrils flared and you followed the scent of your prey now. Saliva began to drip from your lips. A red mist spread over your eyes, with only one purpose in mind: to kill. 

The first bandit didn’t see you coming. You simply impaled him on your horn with your head held low as you charged. You tossed his body to the side and he screamed. Other bandits stood up, unsheathing their swords at the first glimpse of attack. But quickly more were screaming.

“It’s a monster!” One man yelled.

“Stand your ground,” the bandit in charge bellowed.

But who had the nerve to stand in front of a raging, black unicorn?

You slaughtered the entire camp, almost as if you were creating the throne room after the christening of your powers. Blood sprayed the ground and the trees. Entrails and limbs were cast about as if macabre decorations. Not a soul was left alive, other than Jongho, of course. 

You carefully, cautiously walked towards Jongho, flanks shaking, and hot air escaping your nostrils in plumes of smoke. Your hoof pawed at the dirt right in front of him. Your monster brain knew he was important but your bloodthirst was barely simmering down.

“Y/N,” Jongho said softly, his hand level with the bridge of your nose. 

You whinied and shook your head. Some of your mane was matted with the blood of your prey. But you held still, waiting to see what he would do with that hand.

“You’re beautiful,” Jongho said, awe coating his voice. 

The hand landed on your nose and you allowed him to pet you and praise you. 

Slowly, but surely, as Jongho cooed at you, your bloodlust faded and your body shrunk back into your woman form.

You curled into yourself, shivering in the cool air. Jongho immediately removed his jacket and draped it over your form. You sat up and adjusted the jacket to sit on your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me,” Jongho commanded.

“We should get back to the horses,” You said gruffly. 

“My queen.”

Your eyes finally shot up and met Jongho’s defiantly. “What, Jongho?”

“Thank you,” Jongho said simply.

You looked away, unable to handle any other emotion other than retribution right now. You could not afford to become soft when you had nobles to interrogate in where their loyalties lay. That had been the whole point to this trip, after all.

Instead, you replied with. “Take care of my heart. I won’t be needing it for the time being.”

Jongho nodded astutely, reading between the lines. “Of course, my queen.”

Not once did Jongho insist that he carry you back to the horses and that is why he was the constant in your life. Jongho knew exactly when you needed him and exactly when he needed to step back and let you be the strong queen he knew you were. 

“May I suggest something?” Jongho asked after you had donned your clothes.

“That is your job,” You mused.

“We were to visit Lady Danvers and then Duke Foix. I know you planned on using all the pomp and circumstance of your army to arrive and show your queenly-ness, but I think arriving ahead of the appointed hour might allow us some insights to what exactly these nobles are doing,” Jongho laid out for you.

You mocked a gasp. “Why Counselor Choi, one would assume you are thinking of the very worst in Duke Foix’s case.”

A small, tiny, conspiratory smile pulled at Jongho’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“I suppose I could take this piece of advice under consideration,” You replied, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “I am the Queen after all. All that’s required is my mere presence and my subjects should be impressed.”

“Precisely,” Jongho agreed, his smile becoming wider as your ego inflated bigger.

“Then we shall sneak across the border, into Duke Foix’s duchy, and see exactly what that old fox is up to,” You announced.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” Jongho bowed formally and then swung his leg around to mount his horse. “To the Duchy of Foix.”

[longlivechips]

A drabble on what if Arthur repealed the magic ban while Merlin wasn't there. I like the idea of Arthur thinking Merlin will be mad, he said magic has no place in Camelot afterall. And Merlin being like shit I'm gonna have to start telling the truth.

A fic where Merlin goes to visit his mother for a few weeks. It's Yule and he misses her.

While he is gone a child comes to trial. Hardly 12 and clearly terrified. She had been caught using magic.

She swears she didn't mean to, that it just started happening one day and she was so scared of what was happening to her.

The law says she is to burn.

But Arthur just can't seem to make the call. He can only think of the girl Morgana used to be when he looks at her.

He speaks to Gaius and Geoffrey about what Camelot was like before the ban. How people square magic. He learns, for the first time, more than his father had ever let him.

He's thinking of......well not reversing the magic ban. But this girl can't be evil surely.

He wishes Merlin were here, his advice is often quite sound. But Arthur is unsure if Merlin, who has been so outspoken against magic in the past, would agree with such loose laws.

But it comes down to this. Arthur cannot in good conscience kill that girl. And he can not have her as an exception. So he changes the law.

Merlin hasn't spent this long in Ealdor since before he left. He finds it quite lonely without Will to cause trouble with.

But he finds he is not ostracized like he was when he was a boy. In fact, more often than not he has to dodge mothers pushing their daughters onto him as prospects.

He is in his mother's house trying bundles of herbs to be dried and taken back to Camelot when his mother rushes in.

She stairs at him for a moment. Eyes wide, something clearly about to spill off her toung.

"Mother?" Merlin says moving closer, " What's wrong what happened? Has goodie meridan gone into labor?"

"Merlin. My boy. We just received news from Camelot. Gaius sent a letter. I....." Her face is flush. She doesn't look scared but Merlins heart drops anyway

"Arthur...." Merlin starts

"He's fine, he's fine" Hunith walks towards her son, cupping his face in her hands.

She laughs. Full belly and full of joy, her hands on his face strong, they almost hurt.

"He repealed the magic ban Merlin. Oh my boy by royal decree"

Merlins knees nearly give out.

"Surely you aren't serious....." Merlin gasps. "Do you have the letter?"

She hands it over and he reads frantically.

My good Hunith.

I write you instead of Merlin for reasons that will become obvious.

I also just request more of that dried lavender you sent last time, it does not smell the same from the north.

How is your neighbor Gregory fairing with his leg? My tonic recipe helped I hope, I would like to hear how it went.

There is news from Camelot. You might have heard, it will make fast news I'm sure.

A girl was brought to court for magic. Hardly 12 summers, she swears she did not train for magic, that it came naturally and she has no control.

Arthur was hesitant to burn her, despite the law, and tasked me with examining her.

I explained my findings, you know my friend how truly common it is to have magic as the girl does. Arthur listened well, and I sent the king off with what recommendations I could.

There are few books left on the subject but he spoke to Geoffrey. I assume he found some enlightened reading.

The next day, his verdict was as follows.

"The law of the land, as set by my Father King Uther, is that magic has no place in Camelot. I quite agree. Magic is dangerous, it has raveged my family.

But I can't help but think these laws might create more enemies. I cannot kill a girl for a crime she did not willingly commit. But I cannot banish her and create an enemy."

The council spoke on formal matters and specifics but Hunith, it is looking well. I feel hope I haven't had in decades.

Arthur has repealed the magic ban, in part. There are specifics to be worked out, and it is unclear if it would apply to Merlin. It certainly wouldn't apply to myself.

I will write again when I have more details.

I wish I could see the boy's face when he hears the news. Give him my love

Gaius

Merlin reads it. Than again. The third time he skims it he is tearing up. Looking desperately for any sign that Gaius tells a lie.

When he finds none, and there is no answer but that Gaius's words are true.

Merlin weeps. He falls to his knees and weeps.

Hunith cradles his head, spilling some tears of her own.

"oh my boy" she says. "What news. I knew Arthur would be a good king." She presses a kiss to her son's head.

Merlin cries, and wonders why he feels more scared than ever.

[allfearstofallto]

College au is so delicious bc you can have Childe having to deal with the fact that you don't like him. Whether it be his sus vibes or how...dead his eyes look, you just don't like him. So you avoid him like the plague to save the both of you from any trouble.

But the thing is, he likes you and he's sure he can make you feel the same way about him. You'll come around, he's sure of it.

Just Childe engaging in pest behavior is all I can think about for this au

-🐇

Writing Childe without his power and assets is so goddamn challenging, but also so fun!

He's such a pest though. That pretty face can get him so damn far, I'm sure of it. I have to think about how easily I fell for Childe before it was revealed that he was super fucking evil, so obviously it wouldn't be hard for him to develop a pretty powerful influence with enough smiles.

Childe <3

College AU

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

You don't like Ajax? Or Childe as they called him. A stupid nickname, but one he apparently earned. Where he got it from to even who he was, you truly didn't care. You didn't like him and apparently that was a problem with everyone, but you.

You were okay with not having a relationship with him. The campus was big enough where you didn't have to see him if you didn't want to and you both studied different majors, although you put more time and effort into your study. He spent most of his energy on being the life of the party.

People didn't understand why you didn't like Ajax, apparently just saying that you found him creepy wasn't enough of an answer.The Ajax who made an effort to always invite you out? The Ajax who always wanted to walk you to and from classes even though you never told him your schedule? The Ajax who was the only person to buy you gifts for Valentine's, heart shaped, lavish chocolates and a bouquet bigger than your head, even though you weren't romantic with him? The Ajax that called and texted you at random hours of the night to “check on you” when you didn't give him your number? No. Not that Ajax. That Ajax wasn't creepy at all.

The worst part was his dead eyed stare. You wondered how people enjoyed his company when he had the eyes of someone with no true compassion, the eyes of someone who was obviously faking their emotion. Was everyone just pretending to not notice how his smile didn't reach his eyes, or had you truly gone crazy?

The dim, setting sunlight hit your note pages as you sat in the library to study, a typical thing for you to do when you had hours between your classes. And Ajax, the one who was failing almost every single class he took, decided to sit only a few tables over from you, pretending to be nose deep into a book for a course he didn't even take.

You could feel his eyes on you as you tried to focus on anything, but him. The books, the clocks, your phone, anything but him, where he sat unmoving. Why was today the day the library had to be empty? Where was everyone else who was supposed to be studying? Why were you alone with him, only a few tables between you.

A weight lifted off your shoulder when you heard someone stomping up the stairs to the library, calling his name loudly, “What are you doing here man? I didn't even think you knew what a library was!” they ostracized him while playfully smacking him on the back. They were obnoxiously loud, something that would've annoyed you any other day, but today you were grateful for their rudeness.

He was distracted. You could tell because you could no longer feel those eyes on you. This was your chance to scoop all of your books up and toss your bag over your shoulder, running out the door before he had the chance to notice you were gone. You breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the cool autumn air against your skin eased you more than the tense air of the library.

It was worrisome how much more you'd been seeing him these past few days. More than usual and not in the coincidental way. It was like he always knew where you were going. You tried to brush the thought from your head as you walked to your next class, trying to focus on anything else, but that feeling was back. The feeling of eyes on you. And not just any eyes. Those dead eyes. He was nearby.

You stopped in your tracks and turned on your heels with your eyes closed. In your mind, you were silently praying that it was just the nerves and your mind was playing tricks on you. That it was making you imagine the feeling, but sure enough, there he was, messy orange hair, charming smile, and lifeless eyes.

“You're jumpy today,” he said playfully. You took a hesitant step back, but he still closed the distance between you, with little hassle. All it took was two steps from his long legs and suddenly you could smell his oaky cologne. He tossed an arm over your shoulder and pulled you back into his chest, “You left pretty quickly back there. I didn't even get to say hello.”

“Sorry,” you muttered beneath your breath. His baggy clothes hid it well, but he was built firmly beneath them, all muscle with little to no fat. He wasn't choking you with this arm, not yet, but you could feel his ability to. And it would be easy for him to do.

His orange hair tickled your cheeks as he leaned down to be closer to your face, “You didn't answer my text,” his voice just barely above a whisper, his tone playful, but you could feel the malice behind it. He was annunciating each syllable of each word, speaking slowly so you couldn't say you didn't hear him correctly.

“T-text?” You stuttered back. Which text? Ajax texted you all hours of the day and night. Was he actually taking your dry, one word answers as replies? Was what you were doing to try to push him away only making him push back harder?

With an arm still around your neck, his other hand trailed down your body. His fingertips traced every curve of your clothed person, until they landed on the hip. He took this time to squeeze and groped your lower body before slipping your phone out of your pocket and typed in your password.

The blood drained from your face while you watched him scroll through your apps. No one knew your password. No one. Yet he typed it in like it was a regular occurrence for him.

“Didn't even save my number,” he whined, “Don't worry, I've got you.”

His name was changed from a string of numbers to “Childe <3” not giving you the chance to protest.

“You really are a bad girlfriend,” he muttered again, not caring about your lack of a response to him. Girlfriend? Since when were you his girlfriend? You felt like you were spinning in place and your head just felt so heavy. He was saying everything so casually, like you were supposed to agree with it, like you were the one who was wrong.

“Ajax, I think you've misunderstood something,” you said a little too quickly, but your lungs felt like they couldn't get any air in them.

It seemed like he ignored your words completely as he continued to scroll through his messages to you, where he was practically talking to himself, “See? Right here. I asked to take you out for coffee,” he held the screen up to your face.

Sure enough, he had. But you never responded and that text was quickly swallowed up by the myriad of other texts he'd sent you. His flirty messages were ignored by you, more often than not you only replied out of what felt like obligation and fear. Anyone who said you were lucky to have the oh so popular Ajax crushing on you, obviously didn't look into those empty eyes enough.

He sighed and using that arm around your shoulders, began to drag you in the opposite direction from where you were going. You tried to stop him and pull away, but his strength only made you stumble over your own steps, falling into his arms.

“Where are you taking me?” Fear was laced in your words as you continued to struggle in his grasp, but he didn't stagger.

“Coffee.” He spoke with ease as he continued to drag you along with him, that well built, muscled arm shifted ever so slightly to your neck and starting to choke, “I think we need to talk.”

[holmsister]

Ok, my long delayed post about Kabru and the Winged Lion. This does not end here, I'm adding more in a reblog.

Heavy on spoilers. Taking the extra material from @dunmeshistash who I apologise to as usual

Let's start here:

I don't care if you're a wasp you owe him 22 years of alimony

Two important takeaways here:

1) Kabru's hatred of monsters is caused not just by the Utaya catastrophe, but also from the fact that even before that, his unusual eye color was connected to monsters in local lore, and this led to ostracisation and, we can imagine, violence or at least the threat of violence towards him and his mother, serious enough that she escaped to Utaya, aka the place where the dungeon would kill her.

Kabru crucially does not place the fault for this on his father's family, but on himself for being born with 'monstrous eyes'. This is a normal way of reacting to ostracization in children, interiorising instead of projecting the trauma. It's much easier to imagine a world in which there's actually something wrong with you than one in which others might make you suffer for no reason. Monsters are also much more likely to be offered as an explanation by the adults than the actual more realistic explanations (infidelity or rape), which would not be considered appropriate.

This means that indirectly, child Kabru feels that his own 'monstrosity' is responsible for his mother moving to Utaya to protect him and ultimately dying.

2) in the Dungeon Meshi world there are specifically legends about *demon* succubi and incubi (real world lore says succubi prey on men and incubi on women and I assume that's what Laios is referring to with the distinction, but besides that lets assume theyre one and the same), distinct from the *actual monsters* succubi. The demons and monsters have a similar MO of using a person's desires to capture them, but while monster succubi suck a person's vital force, the demons supposedly use the men for their seed and the women for their womb to reproduce (again, completing dungeon meshi lore with bits of real world lore here). Laios, our local monster expert, thinks those demons are just legend. He tells us there are monsters that do use people as incubators for their eggs but I highly doubt that's Kabru's case, uncanny resemblance to a wasp notwithstanding (Laios...)

From here we go to:

Kabru's incredible rizz

This is where the tumblr search function spat in my face and ran away with the rest of my references while giggling. Oh well.

It's noted over and over in canon and extra material that Kabru is charming. More than that: Kabru *will do anything to get someone to like him*.

Worth noting that Daya and Holm *like* Kabru. This is not them disparaging an acquaintance, this is them levelling a criticism at a good friend, a criticism that seems to have been levelled at him before even ("it's no surprise...").

So, important takeaway: Kabru isn't just charming in general, he VERY SPECIFICALLY makes an effort to be charming. He needs people to like him, to trust him, and in order to obtain this, he's willing to lie and pretend.

Like with the Canaries: he needs them to trust him so they will keep him privy to their plans. So he plays up the poor innocent baby orphan angle:

And with Laios? The what (pretending to like monsters) we know, but why?

Kabru thinks Laios is the only one who can conquer the dungeon without the elves or the dwarves intervening and taking control. He is however very worried about his motivation. He wants to know why Laios is going so deep into the dungeon - beyond wanting to save his sister. What motivates him? Can he be trusted?

In the Toshiro chapters we find out that he has been trying to get in contact with him for weeks, possibly months, but this is the first time he has had a real possibility to meet him, and in order to make sure to leave a positive memory and possibly be an influence in the future, he pretends to be aligned with Laios' as much as possible, including hiding his hatred of monsters. I have written tons on this that has now been lost to tumblr like tears in the rain, but: I do not joke when I say that I think Kabru is flirting with Laios before and after the harpy egg incident. Let's be clear: Kabru's intentions are not romantic at this point. But he has noticed how lovestruck Laios was with Toshiro before their confrontation, and he's thinking, well, if I can get him to develop a similar crush on me, I can probably get him to listen to me more easily. Like I can mince words and put things in scary quotes but that's straight up what's happening. Kabru is trying to establish a close bond that wasn't there before: it might not be necessarily sexual, but it's definitely a type of seduction.

It kinda works.

The rest in a reblog because I ran out of space.

[cinnamonest]

I do want to also continue my primary momcon storyline at one point, but with the recent delinquent/bully Ajax posts I am now contemplating modern small town au delinquent Ajax but instead of student/classmate it's momcon…

Poor single mom who is already judged and ostracized by the small town community for being a single mom who had her baby way too young, unmarried, and with a deadbeat at that, made so much worse by the fact that your precious baby boy is a notorious problem child, treated as a menace and threat to the entire town. Hearing people mutter about how that's what happens when some girl that can't keep her legs shut has a kid with no father, how the whole household is messed up in the head, how his lack of inhibition must be hereditary.

Everyone knows him, and by extension, everyone knows you. Who you are, what your marital status is, the fact that you’re the mother of the town menace. You were hoping to live quietly, avoiding negative judgement as much as possible, but unfortunately, that proves not doable when your son is constantly drawing attention to himself in the worst of ways.

You’re always profusely apologizing whenever you get called to the school, bowing your head and squeezing your eyes shut as you promise for the umpteenth time that you'll talk with him and that it won't happen again, unable to look the faculty in the eye, knowing from experience how much their disdainful, judgmental glares hurt. Knowing what they're thinking in their heads even if they don't say it out loud, what they probably say to each other once you leave. How it's your fault, how you have no control over your child.

Or that one line that still hurts you to think about, that time you overheard two other moms with kids on the playground mutter about how they do this or that with their children, or how they would never have a kid without a present father — or else they turn out like that kid…

You were told that once before to your face, back when he was little — that you needed to hurry up and find a step father for him, or else he'll become a bad kid — because he's a boy and everyone knows boys don't obey their mothers the way they do fathers, you know? Sure they love them and all, but once he gets older he's going to start seeing you as small and weak, socialized by other boys and culture into feeling superior to you, and everyone knows that turns into blatant disregard for your authority.

But it's because of him that you can't — you tried, but he always drove away every man you dated, always reacted very badly whenever you got a new boyfriend, being mean and hitting and kicking and setting up cruel pranks and making the man miserable until he told you he couldn't do it anymore and left you alone again. Eventually it gets to be too much for you to handle, and you resign yourself to give up for now, maybe try again when he’s older and mature enough to have a serious discussion on the matter.

Or maybe wait until he’s grown and moved out — if that ever happens, seeing as when you bring up the future, he insists that he’ll stay here and take care of you, says I could never go off somewhere and leave you here by yourself, Mama.

Regardless, you do try and work with him, get him to behave better, but you just can’t. It’s incredibly frustrating. Everything you say goes in one ear, out the other (maybe those people had a point when they said he wouldn't respect your authority). You fuss at him as you wrap the little band-aids all over each of his fingers where they’re scraped up from the fight of the day, but he just smiles, seems to not really be paying any attention, just happy to have your attention and see you worrying over him.

He always dismisses you with ease, promising you he’ll do better and won’t beat anyone up again, but you can very easily tell he doesn’t really mean it at all. And his actions follow suit — you often get a phone call from the school the very next day.

He doesn't really have friends anyway, your attempts to get him to socialize with other kids always ended up leading to fights instead. But that's okay, he doesn't need friends, he says, he has his Mama.

You do feel like it's your fault. Why did he become so violent? Surely you did something wrong. But at the same time, you don't feel like you did anything bad to him, because if nothing else, Ajax is ferociously defensive of you.

You lose count of how many times, after being called in about yet another fight, your son proudly tells you he was defending your honor — yes, he may have cracked that boy's skull open against the brick wall of the building, but he only did it because that bastard had the nerve to call his Mama a whore, so he deserved to have his face disfigured like that. Yes, he may have put three kids in the hospital, but only because they were doing the thing teen boys do where they joke about fucking someone's mom, and he couldn't stand for that, he had to teach them a lesson so they think twice before doing that again. And it's true that one time he did stab someone, he'll confess to that, but it was because that guy spread rumors that his Mama was hooking to make money, and he couldn't stand for that.

This becomes a very well-known thing with him, which creates a bit of a conundrum — on one hand, most people learn to shut up about you if there's even a possibility he's within earshot. However, some of the other rowdy, bully-type boys know that talking about Mama is like his berserk-button, a guaranteed way to get a reaction out of him, so they go out of their way to set him off, believing they can just run away before he can get to them. Usually they stop once they get proven wrong about being able to run and get beaten up badly enough, but there's always some kid dumb enough to try, thus the violence is endless.

Not to mention those cases are worse. Normal fights get a visit to the nurse, but if the motive involves you, he's far more violent. The thankfully few, but nonetheless increasing number of times you had to pick him up from jail were almost all related to those fights in particular, that got so out of hand they warranted a teacher or bystander calling for help. Not to mention he's not at all hesitant to hunt offenders down in town to hurt them, away from the school authorities (who are always keeping an eye on him), so he'll get more punches in before a townsperson notices and calls for help.

And much like the school faculty, the law enforcement always gives you these awful, hurtful looks of disdain, a condescending tone in their voices when they ask if you're here to get your kid again and sighing when you nod your head. A few have the nerve to tell you that you really need to do something or else it's only a matter of time before he does something you can't just bail him out of.

And he's always so cheerful when you do come get him. A bit sheepish, apologizes for the inconvenience of you having to drive out here to come get him (not for the act that got him put there in the first place), but otherwise very smiley and touchy and grateful.

Very, very touchy. He's always been like that. He was a cuddly kid, always lifting his arms up in a gesture to be picked up, always clinging to your sleeves. He never went through that phase most boys go through, where they think they're too old to be spending time with their Mom or get embarrassed by affection and push her away or distance themselves from her. You were always grateful for that, it was heartwarming that he always seemed to be proud of you and happy to be seen with you.

But he does get very, very touchy. Always wrapping his arms around you. When you come to school events, visiting distant relatives (who all dislike him, but stopped bringing it up when you got defensive), even when you go grocery shopping (he always comes along, insistent on helping you), he's always coming up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder and keeping his arms looped around you from behind. And sure, he's never stopped kissing you on the mouth and not your forehead or something, but that's normal for some families, right? And it's only for a second, so it's not weird.

People do notice. You see the furrowed eyebrows and wrinkles noses and perplexed expressions, people leaning over to whisper something in another’s ear.

But at the same time, how could you ever bring something like that up? How could you possibly be mad at him for showing you affection? It's not as if you don't like it, it's just somewhat inappropriate in public… but it would surely hurt his feelings if you told him not to, so you say nothing.

You’re so, so grateful for him. He’s always there for you, always so loving, and has never even complained about having to go without a lot of things other people have.

And because he sees you struggling so much financially, by the time he’s a teenager he gets that itch where he feels like he has to prove himself, because how can he just sit back and let his Mama provide for everything, when he’s technically The Man of the household?

So soon enough he’s telling you — rather, insisting, no matter what you say — that he wants to help you pay for expenses.

It’s not consistently timed, but every now and then, he sometimes comes home to pull wads of cash out of his pockets, handed over to you with a sweet smile… and where did he get that money? Don’t worry about it, is all he’ll willingly say.

You know there’s no way anyone in this small little town would willingly hire him, since everyone knows who he is, and he’s coming back around the same time as he normally would… except sometimes he goes out in the evenings every now and then for just a few hours, when he never did that before, and takes his bag with him for some reason, and you know now that you think about it you recall the local news talking about a string of break-in thefts and increase in drug usage and — no, no, you know what? You decide to not think about it. Your mind has had as much as you can handle and you decide to tell yourself your beloved baby boy has some lucrative job he just never talks about for some reason or another. If you can convince yourself of that, well, that’s the first step to blissful ignorance, so you just cup his face in your hands and kiss his sweet face and tell him you’re so thankful and how much you love him and feel your heart melt when he looks so happy and proud of himself for you saying so.

But because he’s at least starting to show some self-awareness, understanding money issues and such, you figure this is a good time to get him invested in his own future.

You’re also a little worried about said future, given that the prospects for partnership in such a rural place are already sparse. Since everyone knows him, people guard their daughters and watch him like a hawk, tell them to stay the hell away from that boy, and they do listen, keep their distance. This troubles you, you bring it up to him — if you get a bad reputation, you’ll scare all the girls away! — and for once, he actually has some reaction.

But you’re not scared of me, are you?

Of course, you coo and fuss and say of course not — he's your baby, even if he hurts others, he's always so soft and sweet to you — and that seems to make him content, and anything you say about future prospects thereafter goes ignored.

Well, he ignores anything about prospects for him, at least. It's a different story when it comes to you.

Because the subject does come up once again. If you can just get a wealthy man, you say one day, you can easily make life so much easier for the both of you. You could get him a good education without debt, really set him up to have a bright future.

But the moment you mention it, his expression contorts with some amalgamation of shock, disgust, outrage, concern. He shakes his head and grabs you so firmly by your shoulders and says you can't be serious.

He'll be fine without college. No other man is going to appreciate you like he does. Love you like he does. No way can he let some guy just come in and invade the space you two have always shared. It would feel wrong, it would feel so foreign to him to have someone else living here when it's always been just you two. Besides, so many men would just use you, hurt you, leave you, he doesn't want to see you get hurt — and he'd never hurt you.

He's insistent, actually, on not going off to study. He wants to stay home, he says. He can't just leave you all alone! You'll be so lonely and you might replace him with another man— ah, you might get a boyfriend, and he couldn't be there to keep the guy in line.

And if some other man hurt you— well, he would do something really really bad, something that would get him locked up for a long time.

You don't want that, do you?

Because then, if some guy dumps you — which would inevitably happen, that's just how guys are, they'd use you and leave once they got bored or decided to replace you.

Like Dad, he says.

And sure enough, you tense up — he knows exactly what to say to make his words sting, he knows how much it hurts you, knows it's digging up pain you've tried to bury. You want to think he wouldn't do that on purpose. He's just distressed and the words came out without thinking.

But that pain is the hook to get you to listen. Because, he says, then if he goes away too, you'll be all alone without him. You'll have no one, and everyone in town already judges you, how would you ever survive without him? You need him, don't you? Could you really deal with the guilt of knowing it's your fault he would be locked up?

You try to reason with him, and his grip on your shoulders grows so tight it hurts.

For the first time, you feel a little scared of him, as he looks down at you — when did your baby boy get so much taller than you? — with a dark look in his eyes.

You find yourself shrinking back. Stammering out a soft little okay, nodding your head, saying you understand. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

And with that, he's immediately back to normal, smiley and happy and relieved you understand. He just doesn't want you to get hurt, is all. Because he loves you. You know that, right?

As long as you stay with him and him alone, he won't have any reason to really hurt someone. So, you know, his future hinges on your decisions, because he just can't help himself when it comes to defending you.

But that’s unlikely to happen on its own (everyone avoids you because of him and all), which is why you'd have to deliberately choose to pursue another man, which would make what happens your fault. He'll chase off any guys that get too close on their own.

Just don't put him in a position where he's forced to kill someone, and everything will be fine. You'll always have him, after all.

[miifu666]

We know sukuna's a huge hater for Yuuji right? But theres a saying around my country where "you shouldn't hate someone TOO MUCH or else fate will always unite u with them."

Or sum like "don't hate someone too much, it'll turn to love."

<<<<<<♡>>>>>>>

Imagine a happy ending Sukuna, one where he genuinely decided to be in a loving and domestic household with you. He saw what the jujutsu world can do, both ancient and modern, Gojo has provenly showed him a thrilling time by being the one and almost only person to make him feel the life and death situation in such a predictable battle.

He got to meet the plentiful talented sorcerers in the modern world, one where they have far more advanced knowledge in how life works than those in the heian era. The new sorcerers didn't disappoint him too much. Some managed to learn innate domain expansion in a mere second, others didn't have any curse energy yet managed to hurt him more than those who do. He's seen it all, he feels content.

Hence why he made a choice to have his own happy ending, see where life gets him after his "unsavory" conversation with his fated nephew. The tangy memories of that boy's bright smile hearing sukuna giving him a chance to show him how beautiful life can be, even if deep within. Theres a dreaded feeling whenever he sees that gullible boy, a fire pit inside him whenever he realized how innocent his so called "nephew" is for believing someone like him can be saved too.

Sukuna thought back idly, coming back to his senses as he feels your hair being combed through his fingers in a consistent motion. He wonders if maybe that annoying brat is right, he has a dutiful lover now. One who he feels as though wouldn't have been his if he didn't accept that despicable brat's decision.

The warm feeling of the sun hitting both him and his equal is... a blissful feeling. He used to be empty, seeking thrill from both knowledge and greed of such delicacies, humans, animals.. all he could find and devour till his stomach is full. All knowledgeable for such sorcery to make sure he stays the top, to see if someone is there to fight and able to defeat him on top of the lonely world of the strongest.

Now he's sitting here, the daunting feeling of such title no longer haunts him. Theres no one who can use him like an object, to fight and treat him like a game boss, speak his name like an object to defeat, disregard him as something worth less than humanity and curses, a natural calamity. Inside this prosperous Minka, he is just sukuna. Hes not the starving child, ostracized from society, being stripped bare of his real birth given name.

He's now.. Sukuna.

The husband and father of... currently one brat.

Speaking of a brat.

There's hustling noises of running feet ontop of the well cared grass, the thumping of something- no. Someone not much older than 5 years old.

"Papa!"

There he is.

"I got butterflies!!"

The small brat he managed to raise. The one and only child he has, a miracle. He was tempted to call him "megumi" too actually- but he's too prideful to use a rip off of someone elses name. He created his own, he hoped. This child doesn't get sick from bearing the weight of his own name.

"Those are Dragonflies, Yajou"

Yajou, a combination of both the kanji for appearance and fulfillment. A perfect name for one who completes the boundaries between human and curses.

Although...

Sukuna stared at his son again. His face is much more similar to a certain brat than him. His bright and naive eyes, those unopened set of eyes under his proper main ones, the tufs of pink hair on top while his lover's natural hair decorated the sides. Its all too familiar, he hates it. He hates having a split image of his disgusting nephew in this... fleshy and chonky baby form.

"Free! Free dragon!"

The child babbles out, spreading his hands out to let the Dragonfly leave his fleshy touch. It was... cute, adorable even. Sukuna sigh.

This.. is a funny way of fate telling him to learn his lesson.

>>>♡♡<<<

God i had this thought at 1am i did NOT proof reading this i just fucking wing it brooooooo. Hope its good ig djdhdjjdkd

Yajou Doodles♡

[ridox]

SYLUS ‘WHERE DRAKESHADOWS FALL’ THOUGHTS, THEORIES, TED TALKS —

I need to get these thoughts out of my head because his myth effectively made him my favorite LI and unfortunately there’s no going back from here anymore

Spoilers under the cut!

WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN ?! I feel as though I need to just start word vomiting because this was the first time I’ve ever cried over any of the 5-star memories released in this game. 4-stars? Sure. There were a lot from Rafayel that I cried about but not to the extent Where Drakeshadows Fall made me.

BECAUSE YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE REASON WHY SYLUS HAD SUCH A VISCERAL REACTION TO FINDING OUT MC CAN’T RESONATE WITH HIM ON THE MAIN CHAPTERS IS THE POSSIBILITY OF HER BEING DISGUSTED BY HIM ?!

ONLY TO HIT US WITH THE STORY OF HOW SYLUS FOUND HIMSELF SO MONSTROUS AS A CHILD THAT HE TRIED SHORING OFF HIS HORNS AND SCALES AND HOW NO MATTER HOW PAINFUL IT WAS IT DIDN’T COMPARE TO THE PAIN HE FELT FOR BEING OSTRACIZED AND PUNISHED FOR A SIN HE DIDN’T COMMIT ?! ?! ?!

Am I suppose to feel normal when the realization hit me that after the scene in the church, all the ‘good things’ that came afterward was just a dream? Another state of shared reality between Sylus & MC where they get to live a normal life, building a home out of the very church they both almost died on, decorating it to get a semblance of normalcy amidst society casting them out of its reaches and condemning them to a fate worse than death ?

You mean to tell me the field Sylus took MC on was nothing but a wish almost, to both of them, that after learning MC liked flowers after she spent an entire afternoon gathering enough to make a crown for him, Sylus immediately showed her the field of Datura and convinced her that beauty still exists in this dark cruel world and for him the equivalent of that is her ?!

LIKE I’M SUPPOSED TO JUST BE OKAY WITH THE THOUGHT THAT SYLUS SACRIFICED HIMSELF TO UPHOLD HIS END OF THE DEAL WHERE MC GETS TO LIVE YET SHE CURSED HIM TO NEVER SUFFER A TRUE DEATH LEST ITS BECAUSE OF HER OWN TWO HANDS

HOW THE RESONANCE CHAIN LINK ALL ALONG WAS BECAUSE HIS SOUL MERGED WITH HERS AND SHE CARRIES THE BOTH OF THEM INSIDE HER SOUL BONDED TILL THEY MEET AGAIN

No I don’t feel normal, my mind is going 100% an hour and this is the day after I read through his entire myth already

MIND YOU AFTER THIS MYTH I HAVE SEVERAL THEORIES NOW —

1. MC cursing Sylus to essentially live forever, in effect cursed herself to also basically become immortal. Except the curse is only halved on her part because only half of Sylus’ soul lives in her which is why she resurrects with no memory of who she was or what they were in their past lives

2. With that said, the only reason MC is able to get resurrected time and time again is because of this curse that she essentially put on herself. Which leads me to the second theory that perhaps a part of Sylus’ heart lives inside of MC. You know that huge gem on his chest that’s nowhere to be seen during present day ?

Highly theorizing that’s actually a protocore and perchance the same protocore inside MC’s heart

Source: I can feel it in my bones

3. Rafayel knows who Sylus is because Sylus plays a bigger role in the entire story than we thought. As far as we know, Sylus’ myth is the oldest in terms of Philos history. MC’s life may very well have started at this point (or well, until we find out who the other LI is and what role he plays in the story)

Anyway, there’s a couple of instances where Rafayel mentions dreaming of dragons, or having to best an evil dragon, something about towers which was very much so present in the Sylus myth blah blah yada yada

Rafayel knows who Sylus is but has never actually met him before

4. Finally, if MC dies then Sylus dies as well.

THAT’S ALL THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

[ryuuseirune]

i was a girl scout for 12 years and quit in my senior year of high school so i could pursue a social transition. I'm sure that if I had stayed in the troop, none of the girls or their parents would have argued against it, but I knew that if word got out to GSUSA there was a chance our troop would get in trouble. i don't think the people laughing at this trans kid and saying that their removal was the right choice truly understand just how isolating it can be to lose your entire community essentially overnight, especially when all the other kids at your school think you're weird and won't even give you a second glance (unless it's to glare at you in the all gender bathroom or call you a dyke behind your back).

imagine you have a group of 15 or so friends, and the lot of you have been meeting up every friday of the school year at 5:30 pm in the cafeteria of your old elementary school for the past twelve years. a significant portion of your childhood has been dedicated to cultivating your relationships with not just this group of girls, but also their parents and siblings and cousins. you've been camping and built shitty bonfires together. you've made shitty jingles to try and sell your cookies to uncaring passerbys at the local Walmart together. you've made at least twenty different paracord bracelets for all your friends. you've probably been to some of their relatives' funerals.

and, then, essentially overnight, all of that is ripped away from you, for factors that are largely or completely out of your control. because you dared to be a little different. because you dared to be you. it doesn’t matter if you're conceivably the perfect scout: i was the top seller of girl scout cookies in my troop. i was at every meeting, every booth sale, every camping trip, every community service event (and there were a lot of them). if you are a boy, you are unequivocally bad and you should be cast out. but are those with proximity to manhood really more harmful than those without? i dont think so, not in the slightest. and forcing trans kids out of community spaces doesn’t help anyone, either. in fact i would argue it does more harm than good.

i have my issues with scouting as a whole, but seeing people tell young children to choose between detransitioning/going back into the closet and losing some of the closest bonds they've had is just so cruel. i cannot fathom why anyone would think that making fun of this situation online would be an appropriate response. if you are celebrating the ostracization of an actual child, please ask yourself why you think this is reasonable behavior.

[yinyuedijun]

bofurin trio in feudal japan | youkai au

inuyasha-esque au featuring the wbk characters as youkai and other feudal era figures. I watched too much inuyasha as a child and you can tell lol

kitsune!suo x fem!reader hcs here

sakura haruka | nekomata-possessed human

→ a nekomata possessed him while he was still in the womb. its memories are gone, but its powers remained. consequently, sakura was born as a human with nekomata features (including his black & white hair, superhuman strength, and a tendency to severely misbehave).

→ he can switch completely between forms. he cannot shift into the form of another human or radically change his human appearance, however.

→ he tends to prefer existing in his human form. (If he spends too long in his nekomata form, he becomes afraid that he'll forget how to be a human and permanently stay a monster.)

→ when he gets embarrassed or very emotional, his ears and two tails come out.

→ suo teases him a lot for this and will try to provoke it as much as possible lmao. he likes to offer sakura towels and ask him to dance whenever his tails are out. (the first time this happened, sakura tried to maul him lol)

→ growing up, sakura was referred to as a "demon child" and ostracized his whole life. after a demon attack on their village, sakura was blamed and his parents were killed for having given birth to him. he escaped to the mountains (where nekomata tend to hide) and lived mostly as a cat for some time before re-entering human society due to nirei.

→ this is why he's so poorly socialized and literally has feral cat energy btw lol

→ misses and longs for human connection, but is also afraid of it!

→ hates vegetables because he is a cat, likes meat because he is a cat, and likes eggs because his mom used to cook them a lot.

art by yoshitaka amano

nirei akihiro | human onmyouji

→ an onmyouji related by blood to the abe clan. originally a young and talented officer working at the bureau of onmyou, he became frustrated (frightened) with its politics and left for the private sector. he loses the court official hat, but he keeps the clothes because I think they're pretty 👍

→ his talents mainly lie in astronomy, divination, and calendar-making. very analytical stuff!

→ due to his family having been affected by disease spirits when he was younger, he has a strong wish to become skilled in exorcisms and always attempts to engage with evil spirits and demons to build experience.

→ chronicles his encounters with the supernatural, at first for his own learning, but now because he wants to put together a publication to help others interested in recognising supernatural phenomena and understanding common exorcism practices.

→ at some point, nirei was privately contracted to perform a purification ritual at a small mountain village. he heard stories about a boar demon that had been causing problems, so he went to go search for it, and it nearly killed him. sakura (living in his nekomata form) happened to be nearby at this time and saved him. he expected nirei to try to attack him or run at this point, but nirei instead tried to communicate with sakura, despite his monstrous appearance.

→ upon realising that sakura could actually adopt a human form, nirei convinced him to go back to the mountain village with him by offering to treat him to oyakodon.

→ the villagers were somewhat frightened by his appearance, but warmed up when nirei explained that sakura had killed the boar.

pictured above are japanese works depicting kitsune, which suo would be considered, but some of the below is influenced by lore regarding the related chinese myth of the huli jing

suo hayato | nine-tailed fox spirit

→ a nine-tailed fox spirit who was originally quite powerful; however, his hoshi no tama was stolen in a fight with a demon, which left him weak and nearly dead.

→ after these events, took refuge in a village with an inari shrine and acted as their guardian deity for some time as an act of gratitude.

→ having lost his hoshi no tama, suo's powers are now limited but still substantial. notably, he can still shapeshift freely between a number of forms—his original form of the common fox, different human appearances, etc.—but he cannot adopt his true form of a giant nine-tailed fox.

→ in his typical disguise, he is indistinguishable from regular humans. however, if you manage to catch his shadow in the light of a full moon, it reveals his true ears and nine tails. (based on this art!)

→ his disguises are otherwise so skilled that even other youkai and animals have difficulty recognising him. however, all dogs can sense fox spirits and are consequently terrified of suo. suo, himself, prefers not to interact with dogs.

→ while sakura did not immediately recognize suo as a youkai, he correctly identified him as a shitty person at his core (lol) and was later unsurprised to learn that suo was a kitsune. ("oh, the worst kind of demon.")

→ on the other hand, suo immediately recognized that sakura was a nekomata lol

→ being a fox spirit, suo is quite skilled in jujutsu and eventually trains nirei in exorcisms and/or demon extermination techniques.

→ sakura has a preference to travel and hunt demons at night, partly because there are fewer people around to make a spectacle of him, and partly because it's just his inclination as a cat. since nirei is a human and cannot see well in the dark (unlike his two youkai companions), suo lights up mountain pathways with kitsunebi to allow nirei to see.

→ in addition to enjoying tea and sweets, suo likes aburaage (since he is a fox spirit). if you offer aburaage to the kami at a shrine, there's a 9/10 chance that suo will come by and eat it before any of inari's actual messengers can visit.

[anonymousredactedconfessions]

Let's have a talk, shall we?

Major Trigger Warning for rape, false accusations, and mentions of child sex crimes

I let you guys get away with a lot of shit. I let you be a little bitter, or mean spirited, or pissed off. I let you guys vent and let out grievances and complain for the sake of complaining. And i do all of this because it is important to have a space that you can do so without fear of judgement, it is unhealthy for you to bottle up negative emotions. I provide this in a public space because with the way this fandom is, if I didn't many of you would be pressured into not doing so at all. This fandom has a habit of ostracizing those who have differing opinions and interpretations, those who wish to critique the art they consume, those who have unpopular opinions, and all of it is done with the utmost aggression and vitriol. The things that have been said to some of the people in this fandom genuinely makes me lose faith in humanity if i think about it too hard.

This blog exists explicitly to counteract that. I refuse to encourage or enable it. What you are doing is actively dangerous, and I won't be having it in the space I curate within this fandom.

If you haven't noticed, this is one of my rules:

It means that you are not allowed to come in my inbox and accuse people of serious harm over this fiction.

You will not come and accuse people of something as egregious as rape apologia in my inbox. You will not accuse people of rape, abuse, assault, or child abuse/rape/exploitation in my inbox.

These are serious real world issues, and the reason they are bad is because they cause direct harm to real living people who can feel pain and can be violated. Your disgust holds absolutely no ethical weight. At All. You should have the mental, emotional, and intellectual capability to understand the ethical difference between allegories for rape, stories with/about rape, erotica of rape, and actual real life people being raped. Making accusations of this weight over make believe is abhorrent, and as a matter of fact, it shows that you don't treat these tragedies with the weight or gravity that they deserve. If you believe that it is appropriate to accuse someone of violating another person like so because of the creation of or opinions about art, then you have some serious learning and growing to do as a person if you wish to navigate these topics with any level of maturity or respect towards victims.

There is no good that comes out of accusations such as these. They only ever serve to:

Demonstrate to victims that the tragedy of their abuse is as trivial as fanfiction/art that you deem nasty (but is ultimately ethical), or even something as inconsequential as someones' love for a fictional character.

Shame those who love these characters, or this art, or creating, into hiding their opinions for fear of harassment and serious accusations when they have done zero harm by enjoying it.

Stifle creation and participation in fandoms.

Limit the spread of ideas, interpretations, critique/criticism, and general opinions in the fandom, which just turns fandoms into boring echo chambers devoid of variety and creativity.

Encourage actual censorship and moral policing. (More on that on this reblog by @escapedaudios on a post of mine. Thank you Escaped for your two cents, they are much appreciated 💖)

Spread the incredibly harmful idea that people are defined by the art they enjoy. You cannot accurately judge a person’s values or morals based on what tropes and themes they enjoy in fiction. You create an environment and culture incredibly dangerous for vulnerable individuals (like minors) when you tell them that they can know who is safe to trust based on whether they consume "the good kind" or "the bad kind" of fiction. This makes it so very easy for predators to virtue signal about fiction to lure in potential victims to abuse.

The majority of you are very good and well behaved when it comes to this, but the amount of people i have had come into my inbox and accuse others of being rapists with no evidence other than "they made X" or "they like Y" is not zero. And i will not be satisfied until it is.

This is all i have to say about the subject.

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 2: OF FLATLAND, EXWHYLIA AND EUCLYDIA (3/4)

Hello, everyone, welcome once again to another post about Bill’s dimension. One day this analysis will end, I promise. But today is not that day: today is the day we will talk about Bill’s family.

And oh boy if there’s a lot to talk about.

Please check all previous posts to understand this one (and the masterlist too!).

<- Previous post - Masterlist

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PART 4: OF BILL’S FAMILY

“If you think Stan’s relationship with his family is bad, Bill’s is worse” - Alex Hirsch, NYCC 2015

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Loved and ostracized

Everyone loved me immediately and the mayor dubbed me the “best baby of all time”, made my birthday a holiday and gave out free knives. (...) Truth is I’ve always been loved and admired by all!

Of course Bill starts telling his story with a huge. Fucking. Lie.

How can I be so sure? First of all, the hyperbolic way in which he talks about his birth as if it’s the second coming of Christ. Then, all the previous points of this endless analysis.

Considering everything we have until now, I find it very difficult that Bill’s birth was celebrated by everyone. Surely his family celebrated it - if his society is similar to Flatland’s, having a regular son would’ve been enough to make them very happy.

But also… he’s just an Equilateral. And if his world has social classes based on the number of sides, then he’s from a middle class. I doubt the birth of another Equilateral was a reason big enough for huge celebrations.

Also, let’s not forget what Bill himself said in the TBOB: you should make a new reality and a meaning for yourself. Well, what if this is the reality he made? A place where he was immediately loved and admired by everyone?

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Scalene and Euclid

Sooo… those are the names of Bill’s parents.

Honestly? They’re interesting. Even if I’m a bit weirded out by Scalene: in the only image we have of Bill’s parents (the grayed-out triangles on thisisnotawebsitedotcom) neither of them looks like a scalene triangle. On the contrary, they both look equilateral.

It’s a bit strange, you know? As if a person has “Neanderthal” as their first name. “Neanderthal Smith” or similar. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?

While speaking of Euclid, I think it’s a nice name. It’s the same name as the dimension they lived in and no, it’s not as weird as it seems: in our world, some people have the same name as the country they’re from, so it’s not so weird.

But hey, the most important thing is that we canonically have the names of Bill’s parents! We know he had parents and we know details of his relationship with them!

And this raises A LOT of questions.

Let’s start with his mother: we know she loved him, at least a little bit. She sang him lullabies and told him she loved him, despite his strange eye. So we can be sure at least one of his parents didn’t mind his deformity so much.

Also, this part in TBOB after Bill and Ford's breakdown, in which a very, very drunk Bill talks to his mom:

“I’m gonna be back from school soon, don’t forget to cut out the crust off my sandwiches or I’ll —”

I don’t know you, but to me, this sounds like the threat of a spoiled child. Something like “cut the crust off or I’ll throw a tantrum”. And yes, this implies Bill was a spoiled child - or at least, a child who considered himself above others, mother included. So yes, I can imagine him throwing a tantrum at his mother for something stupid like some crust on his sandwiches.

But again, even more questions! How was his mother towards him? Was she submissive? Was she combative? Was she ready to answer to every little whim of her son like a Flatlander Woman or did she ask for some respect? Considering how bratty Bill is, I'm more prone to believe she was very lenient towards him.

While speaking of his father, I find it very fascinating that we know absolutely nothing about Bill’s relationship with his father. We know his mother loved him (maybe to the point of spoiling him too much)… but his father? Did he care about Bill? I suppose so, considering Bill visited a doctor (unless it was his mother’s decision only, but I doubt it).

And about his job: was he a Tradesman? Bill attended school, but was school supposed to teach him about his future job too? If not, then this was up to his parents, right? Presumably, it was his father’s job to teach Bill how to be a Tradesman, a bit like in the Flatland society. If that’s the case, then why we don’t have any information about this? Why no memory at all? Bill seems to care about his father too - if we assume that the top hat he has was his father’s. So at least he cared enough to keep something of him.

Was his father a bad guy? Was he cruel? Or was he so blinded by society’s rules to torture his son and think he was doing it for his good? In that case, I would understand why he did everything he did - but beware: understanding doesn’t mean accepting. It would be a bit like Filbrick Pines’ situation: I can get the reasoning behind his actions, but that doesn’t make him Father of the Year. Maybe it’s the same for Bill’s father. This wouldn’t be the first parallel between Stanley and Bill, after all.

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An Irregular masquerading as Regular

Time to talk about Bill’s eye.

We can safely assume Bill’s rare mutation was having his eye on the face and not on the side - which, from the Euclideans’ perspective, meant having an eye on his insides.

Now, imagine with me: you have a child and you see that your baby has no eyes. No eyes at all, not even an eye socket. I bet you would freak out, at least a little bit. You would probably send your baby to a doctor and ask if there is something they can do.

The doctor checks the baby and gives you both good and bad news: your child has eyes and they work. But they are inside his body. In his goddamn stomach.

And if all of this isn’t enough, your child starts telling you that sure, he can see a lot of things! He sees things you cannot see - no one else can see.

Now, would you say: “Oh, no problem. He can see things no one can, so he’s fine and his eyes work well”? Or would you probably freak out even more and fear your son is having goddamn visions because he’s probably dying or has a tumor or who knows what?

I can understand why Bill’s parents brought him to a doctor. And I can understand why the doctor thought the best solution was to “blind” that eye. As far as Euclideans know, there are no “stars” and there is no “above”. It’s as if someone in our world says they can see rotating hypercubes in real life. Would you think they’re perfectly fine or question if they’re insane/growing mad/getting very sick?

So yes, even if it's insane for us, from Bill’s parents' POV, giving him medicine to make him blind was for his own good. Does that make them Parents of the Year? Hell no, they were literally blinding their own son, of course it’s terrible and insane and if someone tries to do the same they should be immediately thrown in jail. But for the rules of Euclydia’s world, this was probably the best thing to do.

And personally, I ADORE the tragedy of this. The tragedy of giving something to your son that will permanently blind him, but trying to make it at least bearable - he’s still a child, he doesn’t really understand what he’s drinking, but you think it’s for his own good, your whole world think it's for his own good, so you use something silly that he likes, like straws, because this will make the medicine - the impairment - more tolerable. Uuurgh, it’s so tragic I love it.

And it’s even more tragic, if we consider that even after billions of years, even if he talks about his doctor and the medicine as something bad that wanted to “blind” him, Bill never forgot the straws. He still loves the straws he was using so much, to the point he still gave them a place in his book.

But since there’s always room on the angst train, also think that by making him blind, Billy would’ve probably stopped talking about these visions (at least, according to his parents). And if he stopped, it would’ve been easier for him to fit into society. He would’ve followed the rules and standards. He was a Regular shape after all, so if they took away that hidden-and-yet-so-present pieces of Irregularity he had, he could’ve become a respectable member of their society. One who didn’t go around, talking about weird things no one could see. Things that were against the law.

Again, it’s not me saying this, it’s Bill:

“Technically, talking about a “third” dimension was illegal in my world.”

This makes Bill’s character EVEN MORE fascinating. He could’ve been the Apostle of the Third Dimension. He could’ve spoken to everyone, because he had something of everyone - he could’ve been a bridge between Regulars and Irregulars, because he was both. He could’ve changed his world or died as a martyr.

But in the end, he chose the third option.

And we will talk about it in the next post.

See you soon with the fourth and final post on this part.

Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24   @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters​  @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue​ @cynicalandsarcastic​ @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 ​​@arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

[luvermore]

I know a lot of people will villainize Mi-Suk and Hye-Suk but I just can't. These two women show us what different stages of motherhood can look like. We have Mi-Suk who is a family woman but not by choice. Her life would look much different if she had the ability to live as she wanted. Still, in the show we see she actually has more in her life than Hye-Suk does. She has two kids and a husband that adore her, they sit at the table and, even angry, eat. They apologize and make-up even when they still don't agree. She may have self esteem issues but it never stopped her from being able to love and support her family. To bring happiness to her kids and bonus son when they needed it. But that doesn't mean Mi-Suk is without fault. Her pride and embarrassment shoved a bridge between her and her daughter. So much so that said daughter had cancer and didn't tell anyone. Then much like many families, she let her son laze around and do basically nothing while chastising her daughter for it. She is exhausted and works everyday so she can't comprehend why Seok-Ryu needs a break. She has never gotten one. In fact, in her life, she has taken on more than taking on less.

Hye-Suk is a character that I can't bring my heart to dislike because I see so much of women in my own family in her. While it is no one else's fault that she and her husband got pregnant but their own, it doesn't make parenting easier. She deserved a career just as much as her husband and it wasn't fair that she was expected to stop while he kept going up the medical ladder. Then, when she ultimately chose herself, she was ostracized for it. Her marriage fell apart and her son turned away from her; both secretly praying one day she would choose them. But instead of seeing that, due to her own guilt, she saw it as their dislike of her because the truth was; she could have took some time off. She didn't have to take every job. But she did, and yes how she treated Choi Seung was wrong. But I just think if society was kinder to women, she wouldn't have had to choose.

Logically, if she did choose to stay, would that have been better? We know she was restless just sitting at home, she couldn't be, "Just Choi Seung's Mom", and that statement is so important. Mother's should be able to be people outside of being mom's. But so often they jump head first into parenting that they forget they are more than that.

Society tells us men can have it all in family and career but we as women have historically been told otherwise. When a child cries we call their mothers, when kids misbehave we call their mothers, when kids are born and someone needs to stay home, we look to mothers. All in all, these two women aren't just toxic mothers. They didn't wake up one day and decide to drive their kids crazy. They are people with issues and that is okay and it's okay for their kids to forgive them. It doesn't always have to be so black and white. You can love someone and support them, while also admitting they are flawed and need to do better.