#it’s not about safety is about control!

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤSWEET BUNNYㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How would they be with a timid and shy darling?

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

☆⁠ NOTE : Request by anon ♡ English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Bruce never saw himself as possessive. He saw himself as cautious, reasonable, and responsible. But when it came to you, it was different. You’re the softest thing in his life, a delicate presence that soothes the storm within him. Your shy nature makes you easy to shelter, easy to protect. You don’t argue when he keeps you close, don’t push when he subtly alters your life to fit his vision of safety.

You needed him. It was obvious.

How easy it is for you to let him take care of everything. How naturally you let him lead you through crowds, shielding you from eyes that linger too long. How your voice wavers when you say his name, like you’re unsure you’re allowed to. You are. You’re allowed to do anything with him. But no one else. And that’s the problem. Because he notices the way people don’t hesitate to approach you, knowing you won’t push them away. That man at the gala who leaned too close. The colleague who placed a hand on your shoulder. The waiter who smiled too much. He finds your timidity utterly enchanting. The way you hesitate before speaking, the way your gaze flits downward when he holds your chin, how you stammer under his scrutiny—it feeds something deep inside him. You need him, even if you don’t realize it yet. Bruce never gets frustrated with your shyness. If anything, he finds it ideal. You aren’t reckless. You aren’t difficult. You’re perfectly moldable. His perfect little doll. You don’t have to worry about the outside world anymore. Gotham is dangerous. Men look at you too long, the world is too harsh, and Bruce knows what’s best for you. He’s a provider by nature, and now you belong to him, his fragile little thing. You won’t even notice when your life shrinks—how he’s always there, subtly guiding you into dependency. He’s a master at making his control feel natural. It’s for your own good, sweetheart.

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Dick is obsessive in the purest sense. He’s everywhere—hovering, smothering, watching. He doesn’t just want to own you; he wants to drown in you, breathe you. You’re so shy, so quiet—and it drives him crazy. Every time you flinch under his overwhelming affection, every time your voice dies in your throat because he’s just too much, he melts. "Aw, sweetheart, don’t be shy. It’s just me." But he loves it. He loves how you tremble when he hugs you too tight, how your voice wavers when you try to refuse him. It makes him feel powerful—knowing he’s the only one who gets to see these pieces of you. At first, he tries to ease you into his intensity. But the longer he’s around you, the more agitated he becomes. Why are you still flinching? Why do you shy away when he’s the safest place you could ever be? The frustration isn’t with you. It’s with the world. Did someone teach you to be afraid? Who hurt you? He wants to rip them apart. He wants to keep you forever. So, he keeps pushing. The cuddles become longer. The touches linger. The kisses are too frequent, too intimate, but he brushes off your hesitance. "Come on, angel, don’t be like that. I just wanna be close." And when you still shy away? When you still look uncertain even after everything? He just pulls you tighter, cooing into your ear. "You’ll get used to me, baby. You’ll see."

— JASON TODD ⋆

At first, your timid nature makes him incredibly soft with you. You’re so meek, so gentle—and that means you need someone to keep you safe, right? You need someone who won’t let the world chew you up. Jason adores your shyness. The way you shrink under his gaze, the way you hesitate before speaking—it makes him feel needed. But as time passes, his patience wears thin. Why won’t you trust him? Why do you still tense when he holds you? He’s here to protect you, damn it. He’d kill for you. The worst part? You’re so sweet that you don’t even fight back. Your soft apologies, your nervous glances—they’re infuriating. He doesn’t want your fear, he wants your adoration. But Jason is impatient. And when you keep shying away, keep hesitating—he starts getting rougher. Not in a way that hurts, never that. But his hands linger longer, his grip tightens, his voice drops into something more desperate. "Stop bein’ so scared of me, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you." He doesn’t realize how terrifying he can be. How his sheer size, his intensity, can make your heart race in a way that isn’t just flustered affection. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid. He just wants you to be his, to love him. So he softens again. He makes up for his outbursts. He coaxes you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin. "I just want you to feel safe, doll. You are safe. Just let me take care of you." He’ll never let go.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Damian sees your shyness as a flaw—a weakness in need of fixing. You’re too soft for this world, too easily pushed aside, and he simply cannot allow it. At first, he tolerates it. He even finds it charming. The way you lower your gaze, the way your voice barely rises above a whisper—it’s a novelty. He enjoys watching you struggle for words, enjoys the way you shrink in his presence. But soon, it frustrates him. "You must learn to speak when addressed, beloved. Do not make me repeat myself." He doesn’t understand why you hesitate, why you fear expressing yourself. And it makes him mad. Not at you, never at you—but at the world that made you this way. So, he takes control. He begins teaching you. He holds your chin between gloved fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze. He corrects you when you stammer, urges you to speak up when your voice wavers. "Again. Say it again—this time, with confidence." But he adores how pliant you are. The way you listen, the way you try to please him—it soothes something primal inside him. He’s training you, molding you into something worthy of standing beside him. And yet… there’s a part of him that likes the way you tremble when he raises his voice. The way your breath catches when he leans in too close. The way your small hands clutch at his sleeves when he pulls you in. Perhaps… you don’t need fixing after all. Perhaps you just need him to be the voice you lack. "Very well, my love. If you refuse to speak, I will simply do it for you." And from then on, Damian owns every decision you make.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[hrtwayne]

Loveee Song || Alexia Putellas

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Goalkeeper!reader

Summary: Where Alexia realizes she is completely in love with her best friend and would do anything to make the athlete notice.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Mention of kissing!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

Friday nights were sacred for Y/n and Alexia. It was a ritual they had maintained for years: just the two of them, no distractions, surrendering to the comfort of movies, carefree conversations, and the tranquility that only each other's company could provide. On this particular night, they were nestled in Y/n's bed, with Alexia lying on her side, her head resting on the goalkeeper's shoulder. The gentle caress of Y/n's fingers through her hair was so soothing that Alexia felt her thoughts drifting, as if they were floating on clouds.

Alexia noticed, with a racing heart, that something had shifted within her. There was a different warmth in her chest, a growing need to be even closer to Y/n. She wanted to spend hours listening to the athlete talk about anything, she wanted to wake up by her side every morning, feeling the safety and affection that always radiated from her. When she realized it, she was staring at Y/n's face with a new intensity, trying to memorize every detail of her features.

Y/n, always so attentive, quickly noticed the fixed gaze and turned slightly to face her, smiling softly.

"Why are you staring at me? Is there something on my face?", Y/n's question was playful, but the concern in her voice was noticeable.

Alexia immediately looked away, her cheeks burning with the embarrassment of being caught. The midfielder's heart pounded in her chest, almost painfully. How could she explain what was happening inside her?

"You're so oblivious, aren't you?" Alexia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Sitting up in bed, she reached out a hand to Y/n's face, gently pushing a strand of hair behind the goalkeeper's ear, revealing more clearly the face that enchanted her so much. "It's been a while since I've been trying to show you that I want to kiss you, and you either haven't noticed or pretended not to."

Alexia's confession made the air around them feel heavier, almost tangible. Y/n froze, feeling the world stop around her as her body tensed. Alexia was so close, her lips just inches away, and the midfielder's gaze was intense, almost predatory.

"So... are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to kiss me?" Y/n managed to say, her voice almost faltering under the tension of the moment.

Alexia let out a frustrated groan before taking the initiative, closing the small distance between them. In a swift movement, her lips collided with Y/n's in a hungry, desperate kiss, as if both were trying to make up for all the lost time.

Alexia climbed onto Y/n's lap, eliminating any space between their bodies. The kiss was a mix of need and desire, their mouths moving in perfect sync. Y/n's hands explored Alexia's arms, feeling the soft skin under her fingers, while the midfielder's heart raced uncontrollably, echoing the excitement pulsing in her chest. With her fingers tangled in Y/n's hair, Alexia pulled her closer, as if fearing that the closeness would never be enough.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, Y/n took control, her hands firmly placed on Alexia's waist and thigh, holding her in place as she explored every nuance of that kiss, every sensation that arose from their lips colliding.

When Alexia finally began to pull away, seeking a breath, Y/n kept a hand on her chin, her eyes locked on the athlete's. The intensity of that moment, the connection they felt, was overwhelming.

"Kiss me again," Y/n murmured, her voice laden with a desire she could no longer contain.Alexia let out a low laugh, still trying to catch her breath, her eyes shining with a love she could barely contain.

"I was waiting for you to say that," she replied, before brushing her lips against Y/n's again, ready to dive even deeper into that feeling she had finally found the courage to express.

The world around them disappeared, leaving only the warmth of their bodies and the rapid rhythm of their hearts. That night, what was once an unshakable friendship transformed into something deeper and unforgettable.

[emacrow]

The Justice League hasn't heard from John in four months. It was Zatanna who got concerned first when his phone was disconnected.

Batman found out that he died saving an important little girl named ellie from a group of drug trafficker using her as a battery. How paled zatanna was said about the girl and John's deceased body disappeared in a green portal afterward, telling him what level of apocalypse could have accurate if she had died.

Zatanna Investigating the house of mysteries was the next plan of action, considering only Zatanna and Deadman knew that house was claimed by John with an amount of cursed items, books, and every other apocalypse related items.

Zatanna was only going to place seals upon and inside the house, so nobody would attempt to enter ever, except the house wouldn't let her open the front door.

Her blood felt ice cold as she kept trying to pull the door open, but no budge.

That was where she brought the Justice league in, thinking only someone sinister and patience enough placed a claim on the house after John died because if they did.

This was a code blood moon to them. This could be the universe ending on the other side if whoever had control in the house has every cursed item, weapons, and apocalypse making ritual books imaginable that John had collected over the years.

Before J'onn could slip intangible through the house, the door opened to reveal.... Ellie?

The girl who disappeared, wearing a red beanie and a bright smile.

"Oh good, John said you all would probably come here like headless chickens. Come in!" Ellie said, leaving the door open as she floated back inside.

The Justice League and zatanna look dumbfounded before J'onn, the brave soul went in first, saying that he felt no threat.

The house of mysteries seems to have a new type of decoration done, though still very creepy. Safety baby locks, anti plug in, and a bunch of ghost related toddler toys lay around.

A very massive in height man wearing a gravity defying cloak full of stars, hair whiter then snow with constellations braids with the stars themselves sat in the couch that was obviously too much for his massive form.

A squealing little toddler wearing a soft orange jumper with purple hair giggling loudly every time he smack his tiny hands hard onto a board with a bunch of green blob in 9 holes popping out randomly like some ghost theme whack a mole.

Zatanna glanced, looking down at the little boy and then back at the familiar massive tower entity smiling softly, his stardust freckles luminous glowing green with the frozen frost crown with nebula emblems inside floating innocently on his head as her eyes widen a bit.

"Zatanna, who is this guy?" Superman said, concerned in the back. The Justice League didn't know where to go defensive mode or stand down as there was a child present.

She bowed on her knees immediately on the ground, her eyes teary up with a sense of relief.

"I greet thy infinite Realm, Danny Phan-"

"Zatanna, I told you four times in a role. It's not worth repeating my whole titles. You can call me Danny, and no, i didn't win John's soul... I merely adopted him." Danny waves his hands lightly, miniature dwarf star float around lightly before reabsorbed back in his palm.

"It took me 5 years of planning with clockwork and ellie after John helped my realms from the GIW and their plan to make my people into non-living, and living batteries, even though the Justice League had help along with disbanding them. He grew onto me and my family, and seeing what would've become his cheese grated soul after he died was a big no-no in my book." Danny said softly, Ellie popping behind from his mass of white hair.

"I helped, even though now I'm a bit younger than I am now after that whole pretend to get captured by amateur traffickers, but I'd owed constantine for that prank idea for Dan."

The Justice League awkwardly sat on the opposite couch that suddenly appeared, zatanna sitting on the floor a few feet away from John, still playing on a ghost themed whack a mole board.

"Why is John acting like this?" Zatanna asked softly, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her moisten eyes.

"Well, with the combination added years of his much overdue life, by cheating, swindling and dealing with the Supernatural, Gods, faes, and demons alongside the amount of pushed down trauma and PTSD John accumulated in his barely to be call a soul piece after dying in a perfect way for ectoplasm to fixed all of that to made him into a halfa." Danny continues to explain softly.

"His halfa core couldn't handle the weight of it all his soul pieces put together again, especially with his main soul piece being the size of broken miniature ball even after the others entities figured out I claimed and relinquished their contracts because they know I outrank them all, but John's core couldn't handle being put together all at once like that, especially how long he was with barely much of his soul left in the end once he died."

"In a simple way, all His memories, skills and everything in each soul pieces that was taken in between like a giant block of cheese being forced into a tiny mash sieve that was his current mind and body state right now, what Frostbite explain to me." Danny explained simpler with conjuring a solid glob of ectoplasm in his left hand, being pushed in a mold of mini sieve, barely any being pushed out except a couple of glowing liquid dripping.

"John is still the same John, only at where he was his safest mind state before all those deals, trauma, and everything that resulted into what he was, then that slowly returns with time. Only he is free now." Danny finished softly smiling, watching John ripe out a oooing blob ghost from the board with a gleeful squeal, smacking it on the board with delight, his tiny legs kicking in excitement.

Part 1 here <-

[kawhh]

Angry, dark, Quinn....I dare not speak. I think he would become so remorseful though. Especially if there's lingering effects of his behavior. His girl only speaks to him when spoken to, will gingerly sit on the couch or get in bed with space between them, involuntarily flinching when he tries to touch too fast. Like he wants to be dominant, but he doesn't want you to hide any thoughts or parts of yourself from him, he needs your love and attention more than air. He glues himself to you to refamiliarize you both with his touch and is near reverential.

He truly hates himself for how he reacted. The guilt makes him nauseous. He can't sleep. He can't rest. He can't get comfortable. He can't care for you. He can't soothe you.

It makes him feel like ripping his heart out of chest to escape the emotional agony. He's supposed to protect you. You're supposed to feel safe around him, to turn to him for comfort. For warmth, for safety.

You're supposed to just know and understand how he'd burn the earth for you. He'd do anything for you. He needs you. He'd suffer through anything for you. Drop anything for you. Quit his whole career for you.

The fact that he lost control over his anger? Lost control around you? Focused that towards you? Even thinking about it makes tears well up in his eyes, his arms shaking in panic. It almost sends him into a panic attack, how you're acting around him.

You look so scared of him. So small and afraid. Every noise he makes, you jump. Looking towards him like he's going to snap again. He doesn't know how to fix it.

You shrink in on yourself in bed, not wanting to touch him. Not wrapping yourself around him like you usually do. He can hear you whimper in your sleep. He's sleeping on the couch now, not being able to stand hearing you and doing nothing about it. Not wanting you to lose sleep with your worry of touching him.

The signs of the bruising from his grip.. they're still there on your skin. Every single time he gets a flash of one, it's like he's been shot. Feels like he's been shot. He thinks he would rather have been shot.

The way you'd usually lean into his touch - now you treat him like you're allergic to him. You don't start any contact. You don't even look like you want to. Every attempt by him making you freeze up, looking at him with that look that fucking shatters his heart.

He needs you. His possession over you isn't a one way street. He's supposed to provide for you. To make you laugh. To make you want to marry him. To give you every little thing you want in life. To be a physical shield for you.

He doesn't want to make you feel forced into forgiving him. He doesn't want to manipulate your emotions, make you feel trapped.

All he can do is spend every single moment of his time on his knees in front of you, speaking his regrets into your skin. Over and over and over again. Apologising, waiting for the moment you feel safe enough to speak up, to give him any hope of being the man he needs to be for you again.

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

inspired by this very old ask about you giving opti diy crochet charms

cw: hardcore pinning, obsessive thoughts, optimus is bad with dealing with emotions

word count: 700

something small that I needed to get off my system <3

Digits glide over the soft yarn with calculated subtlety. A thumb slowly traces the indentations of the intricate patterns, acquainting itself with the texture of the interwoven chains and half-double stitches, magically linking together into a shape. A few motions are enough for him to memorize every dent and placement of the material, yet he does not cease his journey, still gently stroking the creation. After dozens of times, the tenderness gives way to adoration — he is aware of it, but cannot stop, incapable.

But he knows he should. Optimus uses this friendly gesture to feed the fire, burning ever fiercer with every movement of his thumb, taking advantage of your kindness to nurture the warped, unworthy-of-your-innocence feelings that slip further and further beyond control. He despises himself for it — oh, how he loathes himself — but has long since grown accustomed to self-hatred, his ever-present shadow at every turn. Hatred was familiar. The feeling of receiving gifts from you was a vibrant novelty he had yet to learn how to handle, for it terrified him with its rawness.

Crochet charms, as you called them. Everyone on Team Prime received a few, so he should not be assigning such immense significance to his own. Should simply be happy with the gift, accept it, and maybe glance at it occasionally, recalling your eyes gleaming with excitement like beads and your broad smile, radiating pure joy, as you handed your tiny creations to his massive servo. A star and a sunflower — both incredibly delightful, almost as much as your expression when you saw that he had accepted your present.

"Tomorrow, I can help attach them to your mirror in the alt mode. If you’d like to, of course" you told him, and though he longed for nothing more than to fall to his knees before you and beg you to do it now, the only thing he managed to utter was:

"I would be delighted."

But he cannot simply be "delighted". Cannot just set your creations aside and occupy himself with other things when a piece of you is so close to him. Cannot fall into indifference, seeing it as an affront to you. Wants to cherish the crumbs of attention you have given him, to savor this non-physical affection he is unworthy of but treasures more than the ability to sustain himself with energon. Wants to linger by the proof of your kindness for as long as he can, fully aware of his madness yet unable to put its source away.

His thumb moves to the sunflower, gently pressing into the material. A gift from you. You. He never asks for anything, demanding only the preservation of safety. Optimus doesn't seek glory, gold, or riches, for he has found them in you — and you are the most magnificent treasure he could have ever dreamed of. Yet you went a step further, crafting something with your own hands, dedicating your precious time to him. You called your gift modest, but in this, he cannot agree with you, for to him, it was everything. And soon, it would permanently become a part of him.

It is an exhilarating thought, but also a treacherous one, for he knows these are the last moments he will hold your creations in his servos. The final moments to touch, to encode the texture into his memory, to relish the sight of your affection woven into physical form. Wanting to make the most of it, he brings the crochet charms closer to his faceplate, pressing against the soft fabric. Closes his optics, sharpening the remaining senses, focusing entirely on the feeling of having a piece of you so close to him. Knows he is defiling your gifts, that he should have let them be long ago and forced himself to suppress his erratic emotions towards you, but he cannot, craving to draw every ounce of impure satisfaction from this moment.

He clings to the gifts more tightly. Just a little longer. A nanoklik, he tells himself — but he cannot bring himself to turn his helm away.

[spikedspy]

It's way more complicated than that but here's another perspective to add on.

This is why I dislike how disconnected people are from farming.

I was in agriculture school, I got educated about this stuff and one of the things they taught you there is:

Happy animals = better produce, less medical problems and more money. So why would farms then just go and not treat their animals right?

It's also not always the farms themself (who at least here often get the full blame), trader chains -who conveniently are giant and control the market-often put pressure onto them to lower their product prices or else they'll just go somewhere else to buy their stuff. Sometimes the only option farms have is to get more animals to still keep it running- or they stop the farms they've had running for years. Building a bigger stable isn't that easy, how do you get the money for it? How do you get the space? And time cause it takes months to build? And how do you deal with the bigger workload? But more animals on the existing space is a more accessible solution. And then you use antibiotics to keep disease down bc the conditions are shit. Until it doesn't work anymore(resistances or other funny viruses). And with the already tanked income, how can you now treat your sick flock? Regulations are good bc they stop stuff like this from happening. You still got a backwall of: ok I can't go further with this and also nobody can get further than this. They're a safety mechanism for everyone involved.

Same with dairy, the prices in the store don't always match those the farmers themself get. (Increase in store for dairy products, but the money the farmers get is the same for the amount?)

Having those stupid big advertisements about happy animals etc. and then when you take a closer look you can actually see that it's sometimes not the case. Or not even possible... Due to the ones that made the advertisements. You see a pattern?

My takeway is: buy from small local farmers, where you can see how the animals are treated and you can see what's going on + and your buying behavior directly influences the market so to say.

poster for your poster needs (grossly oversimplified but i'm going for broad strokes not intensive academic rigor)

free to use, repost & reproduce, no credit necessary

[onmyyan]

hear me out because i can’t stop thinking about it— poly yandere batbros who are your freaking soulmates. they find you completely by accident, noticing the soulmate mark that matches there before you’re even acknowledging them, and their possessiveness and protectiveness takes over almost instantly

Found Ya (Part 1/4)

A/n: Fem reader, yandere themes, soulmate au

Everyone was born with a soulmate, it was normal in your society, what wasn't normal was having four.

When you were born your mother and father immediately noticed the four distinct marks across your skin, they chose to keep this revolutionary fact to themselves, not wanting a hard life for their child, so they teach you to hide them as you grow.

The idea of soulmates always freaked you out, sure the idea of a perfect match seemed like a dream, but four different soulmates? The kinda thing was unheard of, even in a crazy town like Gotham.

You were terrified of finding them, afraid of their inevitable judgment, what if they didn't want to share you? How could you be expected to choose? The whole concept made your head hurt so you instead choose to focus on the things in life you can control, academics, and social life, you thrived as you hid your marks, one across your abdomen, a simple tightrope in traditional style, one across your inner wrist, an owl sitting before the moon, an anatomical heart wrapped in barbed wire sat inked right above your own heart, and the most visible, the one that gave you the most trouble, was the green and red robin along the collum of your throat, whenever you're not in the safety and comfort of your own home, you hide it with a bandage, it gets you a lot of stares.

Gotham University was a tall imposing campus that screamed elite, you'd recently received a scholarship to the prestigious academy, which is how you found yourself in AP calculus anxiously waiting for your professor's arrival. You hated this, the one class you couldn't take online, it made your skin itch to be so exposed, sitting in the lecture hall occasionally feeling eyes leering as you nervously picked at the skin of your thumb, the sooner this fuck ass professor got here the sooner you could return to the comfort of your small one bedroom apartment.

Your hair sat underneath a plain black beanie, hiding most of the (h/c) color locks, and your body was hidden in a too-big hoodie passed down from your favorite older cousin, all in all, you looked as inconspicuous as possible. You hear the door to the lecture hall open as a group of about five or six people including the professor walk in, and that's when you feel it.

All at once your wrist begins to get warm, and you can feel the outline of the owl tattoo rub against your hoodie sleeve causing you to grimace as if you'd just gotten it done and the skin was inflamed, shit. all you can think is the word 'shit' because instantly you knew what this was. One of your soulmates had just walked in the room, and your skin would continue to burn as long as you were in the same vicinity, it wouldn't stop until you touched their skin, or left the area they were in, I'll give you a guess which option you were going with.

Sweat begins to bead against your brow as the feeling only grows, you refuse to look at your wrist despite the now burning sensation, you couldn't give any signal that you were being affected, and it seemed your soulmate had the same plan because the group that entered moments ago dispersed normally and no one seemed out of place. Swallowing around nothing, you take a few shakey inhales and sneakily scan the room, there are about 25 people in the room with you, all of them engrossed with the professor's muffled words, you could barely hear him over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

"You mind if I sit here?"

The soft voice whispers to not disturb the lesson, without glancing up you nod your head yes, "Go ahead." The burning of your wrist seemed to reach a crescendo as the stranger leaned across his desk sticking his hand out, "Tim Drake." you could hear the smile in his tone but couldn't look away, because peaking out as if proudly on display, was the exact same owl tattoo you had on your right wrist.

Well... looks like you found one.

[canonkiller]

talking about it because it's not the new scary problem. my eating disorder fucked me up bad. a lot of my current health problems - the losses of sensation, mobility, memory, vision, and the gains of Everything Hurts - are, at current best guess, caused by having restricted so hard for so long.

some of those factors were out of my control. that's not really correct - all of them were out of my control, then. it's a mire to deal with; the illusion of control and safety in restriction makes it seem like that's all you can do to keep things steady, to keep them safe. It's not. And I know that, now, as I've known it for a while without being able to change.

I don't know what point I want to make here. You deserve to eat well and without fear, as much as you need, whenever you need. It isn't shameful that you haven't been able to do that yet. Feeling like you screwed it all up is natural, but you can't blame yourself. The body does what it thinks it needs to to survive, and sometimes it's wrong, but you live in there, so you don't always get to know when it's making a mistake. It is never too late to try and recover. And the recovery is worth it.

I love you. I hope one day we're in the same restaurant and order the same meals, and we never know it, but we can hear each other having fun, alive. I hope you can share birthday cake with your friends and get popcorn at movies and bake cookies and not have to worry about what to do with them. You deserve to live. You really do.

[existentially-confused-crow]

It is easier to tell if someone with bad intentions is PRETENDING to be good to hurt you if you have experience with normal, genuinely good people. Also, we should probably talk more about what is acceptable behavior and what are red flags to look out for.

I always see things where people complain about dangers, but nobody talks about how to recognize or avoid them, or how to get out of a dangerous situation. We always talk about how the internet is a dangerous place for kids, but apparently (according to my younger family members and friends with younger siblings still in middle school) internet safety isn't being taught in school or talked about at all really. And there's little to no discussion for what ages children should be allowed to go online and what places they should be allowed to explore at different ages.

Kids shouldn't have to try to intuitively recognize and defend themselves against dangerous people. Speaking from experience, it fucks you up severely. it took YEARS for me to trust people to both a; not try to hurt me all the time, and b; have my back and come to my defense if I need it.

We cannot leave our youth without vital knowledge. It's why I hate the sentiment, "don't teach your daughters how to avoid rapists, teach your sons to not rape" because it is a double-edged sword that slices everyone. 1) People (children might be the main focus of this post but this sentiment is for EVERYONE of all ages and genders) shouldn't be blamed for being groomed and/or sexually assaulted, 2) teaching a new generation to not endorse rape culture doesn't erase all the other rapists and groomers that already exist in the world, and finally 3) It leaves them (all children regardless of gender) defenseless to grooming and attacks.

If we do not have the combination of genuinely good adults doing their part to provide safe places for kids and just be a control group for them to compare the bad adults to AND teaching them safety techniques/ ways to recognize dangerous people, then we fail our youth. Just talking about bad adults doesn't do anything if you don't foster good positive connections, besides make them either; suspicious of everyone (bad) or think it's bullshit and fall for groomers anyways because groomers are smart, show "positive" attention to their victims, which if that is your only "good" experience with an adult, you're gonna lap that shit up like water. Both cases are bad and a result from a lack of good experiences with adults

Saw a tiktok of a guy saying he doesn’t feel comfortable talking to minors because he’s 19. And it’s just. I’m so fucking tired of this.

And like to be clear, I’m speaking as a victim of pedophilia when I say: We need to get over this collective fear of endangering children. Because holy shit, this stuff is getting out of hand.

The average person is not a threat to a child.

And also!!! It is actually really really good for kids to have friendships with adults that aren’t their family.

Having friendships with adults when you’re younger prepares you for adult life in a better way then only interacting with adults that are family members or teacher as well.

And also if there’s any sort of weird behavior happening with adults or teachers, it’s very helpful to have unrelated adults, you can go to, and also have a model for what normal adults are supposed to look like.

And also! You’re just making it way easier for pedophiles to prey on children when you completely avoid interacting with them as an adult. Because kids are naturally inquisitive and curious. They are going to want to interact with adults and they are going to want to ask questions. And if the only adult adults that are willing to interact and speak with them or adults who have ulterior motivations. Guess what’s gonna happen.

Also on a more general note. Having a model for what a normal healthy adult is supposed to look like makes it way easier for kids to be able to recognize and identify when adults in their personal life are being weird.

[navillee]

Caleb as a sub - an introduction Pt. I

It's gonna be a long one since I'm giving some background context first, bringing some headcanons about the early stages of mc and Caleb relationship (childhood up to teen years). Part II would be the late teens/adult stage of him as a sub because it makes more sense to explain what exactly lead him to be one.

I would like to start this TED Talk saying that Caleb has all the stars and planets aligned to be the pervert he is;

He had to stand up as a protective figure for you at such young age, that this position on your life it's so deeply engraved as his inside his head, to the point Caleb can't visualize anything other than this possiblity. He can't picture losing that spot for another guy, and that's one the reasons why he acts like a loyal guard dog over you;

It started as a duty and due to his own character it developed out of control as an obsession over the years. From protecting you from the mean kids, so you would only want to spend time with him, to the day he had to go out with his friends to a random party he didn't even wanted to go just to avoid totally snapping to the fact you went out on a silly date with a friend back in highschool;

He felt miserable everytime that happen. Everytime you choose another one over him, Caleb promised to himself he would do better, that he would be better for you. So good that you would never choose another person but him to be by your side. He would be the most courageous, gentle, patient, good a cooking and even do your homeworks. You didn't deserve less than the best;

Oh, and how it felt good when you praised him. When you corrected a friend of yours bragging about the fact that Caleb's actually better at (inserts random hability here);

He felt proud to be the only one suited to take care of you;

And those times were the best for him. Caleb still remembers every detail of his childhood days he shared with you. It was only natural for him to get to know everything about you, from your favorite color to all your likes and dislikes. You were near his sight, and he felt at ease knowing that if anything happens to you, he would be able to try everything out until he finds the solution to bring back your smiling face towards safety again;

When you two shared a room and kept talking and giggling until late at night, pretending to be asleep as grandma entered the bedroom to check on both of you. When both of you fell asleep cuddling on a bed that seems so huge, surrounded by plushies and aircraft toys, just for Caleb to wake up earlier to pick up the plushies that had fallen out of bed, tiptoeing towards you again and feeling relieved you survived another rainstorm night because he was there to protect you;

But something flipped when the hormones started to kick in. That's when the obsession over being your favorite changed in a substantial way;

That was the first most confusing time for Caleb. When grandma morphed the dumping room of the house into a new bedroom in no time, and Caleb had a new bed, study desk and even a wardrobe just for him. Shouldn't he feel happy? Grateful, or at least a little excited for having a space exclusive for him?

He's growing up, and that inevitable separation from you is chasing after his powerless self. If you're not within his sight, how Caleb will know whenever you need him to be there for you? He didn't even asked for a new room, so why adults started to complain the older – safer and more cozy – setting of you two sharing a room wasn't ideal?

His perfect sleep schedule was ruined. Caleb couldn't find a way of sleeping the first night without you, nor the other night after that one, nor the night after tomorrow...

What if you kicked the blanket out of the bed and were feeling cold? What if your plushies fell out from the bed frame and you're alone? What if a thunderstorm starts and he's just not there to cover your ears until it goes away?

He tossed and turned on his bed for almost two weeks, until the night it started to rain heavily. Then he couldn't deal with his own agony. He got out of his bed, abandoning that prison of isolation (that's how he called his new bedroom) and slowly turned the doorhandle of his old room;

You were curled up with a plushie near the edge of the bed, crying. His heart sinks, he ran towards you, touching softly your arm as you turned your red puffy face towards him. "Caleb, is that you? You're back!" Tears running down your face as you cupped his face with your hands basically dragging him to get on bed. "Can you stay? I don't like thunderstorms, you know it."

And he absolutely loses it. Caleb isn't moving a single unit of feet outside that bedroom ever again. No, the only thing he can do is bring you closer in a warm hug, while he says he's back to protect you and he's not leaving, never, for nothing in this world.

He build a pillow fortress right after he notices that you calmed down a little, and after a long torturing two week period of (not) sleeping (at all) alone, you two fell asleep on each other's arms again, safe and sound, as it have always supposed to be;

The time passed by. And even if you didn't get that scared out of rains anymore, you two were always together, and if you weren't on Caleb's bedroom, Caleb was for sure at yours. Watching movies, helping you out with your homework. It wasn't enough anymore, no, never enough. Excuses such as "let me cook something for us, pipsqueak." or "let me dry your hair since you don't know how to do it." appeared on his never outdated list of excuses to spend time by your side and do useful things only he could do for you;

He couldn't run away from the eventual separation, but he could trick it, delay it, pretend it didn't existed at all;

Until the day he punched a boy and grandma had to pay a visit to the school's principal. It started when a girl was arguing with you about some topic Caleb didn't had enough time to figure it out. It was when that one of the girl's boy friends tried to touch you, and Caleb saw it. And all you could remember was seeing him jumping after the other boy's face;

After getting scolded by all present adults at the principal's office, Caleb saw himself standing at your bedroom door again. Poor boy was feeling so sad. Would you be mad at him as well? When everything he did was to protect you, would those doors finally getting closed to him to never enter that special place for only the two of you ever again? When he entered the room already mumbling all the excuses he could find, he got speechless when the first thing you did was to cup his face with your hands and ask him if he got injured;

He giggled at you, and the giggle turned into a laugh as he cupped your face back. Of course you wouldn't get mad! You, out of everyone, knew that Caleb only did what he did in order to protect you. He wasn't a juvenile thug or anything but a little boy trying to protect you from mean people. He was so relieved you wasn't mad. He didn't do anything wrong after all, right?

That's why he's back at your room again, softly looking at you like a puppy while you bandage up his bruised hands;

He took that day as an endorsement for that growing-out-of-control overprotection over you. As long as you're by his side and not feeling uncomfortable, he would do anything to protect you and keep being the first person you would look up for help;

That's his role after all, and he feels so good doing it, he can't stop, don't even want to. That's why he neutralizes all threats that comes near you, and that comes near him too;

Even though he's the popular kid and get along with everyone, when it comes to girls that left you out or are clearly acting like pick mes to get his attention, he's immediately blunt with them;

That includes: not landing any piece of clothing to any girl but you. Not a cap, nor hoodies, nothing. Not getting physical contact or engaging in conversations, especially if the topic somehow makes you uncomfortable;

Watch him freak out whenever a girl who's trying to get his attention ask you if you have a crush on some boy/celebrity that Caleb knows;

However, when the situation reverses and we're talking about boys trying to get your attention, he's ruthless;

If there's a competitive guy, that's Caleb for sure. If there's a sports competition at school and his fan girls club is cheering him up during the entire set, he couldn't care less about it. But are your eyes on him? Or did another guy caught your attention? If so, get ready to Caleb's show off party;

He will outdo that guy. It doesn't matter if it's an ally or someone from another team. Caleb's an natural outdoer. He'll win and bring that trophy/medal home just for you to praise him and tell him he did good;

He wants to spend the entire dinner at home with you bragging to grandma how amazing he performed while he carries an small smile and a fuzzy mind too overwhelmed with praises to think on any other thing;

And he'll never let another guy have his moment at the dinner table;

That's when he realizes he wasn't doing for the sake of it. He was doing it because he couldn't get anything more than that. And it frustrated him. Praises at dinner weren't enough anymore, landing you clothes weren't enough anymore. He wanted more, way more he could ask for, and Caleb was afraid of admitting it to himself.

But sometimes it got out of control for everybody to see it. Such as the time he chopped an entire carrot an putted on Zayne's meal when he spent a weekend at grandma's house. When he noticed you got mad he immediately stopped and reluctantly apologized to Zayne. (That doesn't mean he didn't use that "incident" as an twisted joke/provocation towards Zayne for the following years);

Things like chopping carrots happened with a shorter frequency whenever he noticed you weren't spending enough time with him. Tossing bouquet of flowers boys delivered at your door into the trash before you would notice, lying that you're not interested whenever a friend of him asked about you – then shortly after tossing this friendship into the trashcan as well – being dismissive towards girls that confessed to him or even rude;

You didn't notice those things, but he wish you would. He wanted you to catch him throwing unopened love letters away because at least then he would know he should stop doing it, that he would immediately get on his senses and feel guilty about it;

Then he would beg for forgiveness and you would accept him back, just like you did when you got separated rooms. And he would come back to be your sweet well behaved boy from your childhood that did everything only in order to protect you;

But you didn't do it. In fact he could swear he saw a faint smirk on your face when he didn't accept a date invitation from a phonecall, he saw the same lingering pleased smile when he threw off a plushie he received on valentine's day;

And it was driving him insane. He felt guilty about behaving like that, but how could he stop when you're a daily reminder of his disgrace? When you're wandering around the house with pajamas shorts that Caleb hold onto his dear life to try not stare than more than five seconds, or when he has to take a shower after you had showered and all those sweet fragrance products mixed with a faint scent of your sweat started to make his mind wonder to places tried not to but failed;

Oh, poor Caleb. Long years of self discovery, pent up frustration and repression waited for him.

[parasolladyansy]

LoZ Travel Blog - Water Temple

Hi-ho! Isekai-ed Ansy here! Don’t ask me how I have signal in Hyrule lol, I just do. XD Just cleaned up Lanayru, so I thought I’d do a fun little blog thingy as we go pay our respects at the pristine Water Temple💧

(I love these blue water lilies - they’re one of my birth flowers, too 🩵)

Started off spending the night down here on the water of the East Reservoir. There was a bit of a wet breeze from the lake & waterfall, but very picturesque with the scent of water & fresh pine. 🏞️🌲

(Definitely thought this would be a very nice place to visit with Ikrit)

Link had to dive in this whirlpool to get the Zora Greaves Queen Yona said was down there (for some reason). I like swimming, but ain’t no way I’d get out of there alive. ^7^;

Meanwhile I’m not 100% sure Ingo can swim, especially with that big backpack. Either way, we waited for him to go grab it >u>;

The Wellspring Islands - gravity is lighter up here, so that was fun! 🫧 The water bubble puzzles weren’t too bad, though it’s cold when you get out of them. >u<

(It was around here that I was like - huh, these bubbles kinda look like Morpha…thank goodness it wasn’t lol!)

This nice Zora lady was generous enough to share her catch of Hearty Bass that made a comeback up here after the sludge was gone, so we made camp & had some fish for dinner (was sure to give her some, too!) 🐟

The air was getting cooler as the sun started to sink - the view was very beautiful though.

Link opted to swim up these waterfalls while Ingo & I followed on a Zonai aircraft. So long as I don’t look down, it’s not a bad flight, surrounded by blue skies & pretty clouds. 8u8;;

Ingo would keep conversation while keeping a steady hand on the controls (also is always sure to put a safety line on us so I don’t get “uncoupled”). That helped, too. ;u;

Stopped for lunch at the next safe spot - we already picked up all the ingredients growing around here during our first trip (including some Hearty Radish hiding under some grated flooring!) so we just opted for some Bright-Eyed Crab from Mipha’s Court to put some pep in our step.

(It was nice to know they didn’t just get rid of Mipha’s statue from Zora’s Domain altogether - I could understand they were heartbroken & all, but it was a relief to know they found a nice spot for her on top of Ploymus Mountain). ⛲️

Can’t say what Link’s thinking about here, but maybe it’s how Sidon’s avatar didn’t really wanna be in the shot after all lol (like Ingo - he was too busy messing with the next Zonai vehicle to get the two of us normies up there).

Looking at his Zora Armor up close, it’s clear the amount of love & detail Mipha put into it. I’m not much for sewing except making very basic repairs, but I can appreciate the artisanship. Makes me wish I could make Ikrit something someday. ;u;

It’s a lot quieter up here with most of the monsters gone (just some Constructs over on the other sections). It’s nice to just take in the beauty of the place without having to worry about getting attacked, or getting covered in sludge lol ouo;

Lots of pools & fountains, along with more water bubbles. Sugar liked this pool the best - lots of the ponds up in the sky have these lotus flowers that fairies seem to enjoy.

All in all, I think I can confidently say the Water Temple is my favorite now, from start to finish. ^_^

Hope you enjoyed this little immersive trip! 🩵 See you in the next one! 👋🏻

[sacredfixation]

Loki and the Deeply Valid Fear of Being a Government-Issued Android Without Knowing It

Imagine living for over a thousand years, committing intergalactic crimes, then one random underpaid TVA clerk with a monotone voice suddenly introduces the possibility that, oh, by the way, what if you were secretly a robot this whole time? And Loki, who has always carried himself with the absolute certainty of a god, pauses. Like. “Wait. What if I am?”

He hears that question and immediately does a full mental diagnostic. Have I ever glitched? Ever felt oddly mechanical? Experienced an unusual fondness for oil? Maybe he’s too good at lying. Too good at surviving. What if that’s just the programming?

The TVA worker just moves on. He doesn’t elaborate. no reassurances. theres no safety net. Just the terrifying possibility that he might get instantly vaporized for something completely outside his control.

Id like to note, his hesitation isn’t even just some random existential crisis, it’s trauma-informed. This man already lived through the experience of waking up one day and realizing he wasn’t who he thought he was.

He grew up thinking he was a prince, a god, Odin’s rightful son, only to find out he was actually a stolen relic of war. A Jotun. A creature he’d been taught to hate.

He thought he knew himself before, and he was wrong. What if he’s wrong again? What if theres something else about himself thats been hidden? If he didn’t realize he was a Frost Giant, whats stopping him from not realizing he’s actually some highly advanced synthetic being?

It’s not just a funny existential gag, it’s a callback to one of the most devastating truths of Loki’s existence:

He has never really known who he is.

It’s the muscle memory of having his entire identity ripped out from under him. It’s the learned fear of asking, What am I, actually?

Because the last time he asked that question, the answer ruined him.

[whetstonefires]

'ethnostate bad' is a shorthand for 'if you set up a legal system designed to privilege and protect one subset of the population it controls over all others, this is guaranteed to lead to abuses and the denial of human rights; trying to get around this by creating nations that only have one kind of people, who can all be protected together, has reliably turned out to instead kick off a speedrun of evil, because human populations don't work like that.'

the sense of entitlement that tends to be associated with an ethnostate, the idea that this-ethnic-group has the definitive claim to this place and any competing interests are illegitimate, contributes a lot to the rate of escalation compared to most other imbalanced legal systems, because it sort of takes the brakes off.

none of these abuses are particularly unique to ethnostates; the US for example has never been in a position to be an ethnostate as classically defined, but we hold gold medals in a lot of these kinds of crimes for overlapping reasons.

'forming an ethnostate' was a Cool Idea In Theory premised on a range of reasonings ranging from Reasonable to Eugenics which, in practice, has always turned out to make things get really ugly really quickly.

this works, i would say, in roughly the same way organized religions have predictable social failure points, which small intense cults tend to hit really hard and really fast.

israel was a powder keg of human rights abuses from its inception, because it had the ethnostate speedrun modifier and also was structurally a colonial power, like the US.

i see discussion about this devolve into What Is Indigeneity a lot, but the relevant issue is the structure of israel's institutions as it became established, which were, as a matter of record, drawing on the colonial model on purpose, on the grounds that it worked. and they could hardly help doing so, given the scenario.

ie: most of the parties initially in power had few to no immediate, personal local ties, and did not depend on the existing social fabric for their authority, which was backed by foreign military power; there was heavy incentive to forcibly dispossess people of their homes so that other people could come from abroad to live there; there was an imaginary version of the country being worked toward, that the existing country must be obliterated to achieve.

change the language, change the law, change everything; maintain central control of the overall process while replacing the citizen body piecemeal with settlers.

and then on top of the logarithmic interrelation of those two elements, the establishment of israel was done almost entirely by people who were deeply traumatized by state violence along ethnic lines.

it would be nice to live in a world where this meant they were motivated to make sure the government they were created Wouldn't Do That, but human nature is such that for the most part trauma is much more likely to focus you on making sure it won't do that to you, because trauma is a survival response.

(and ofc the people who go into Founding A Country in a state of trauma are going to be disproportionately those who feel that power is the only safety. which is a totally understandable conviction under the circumstances! however.)

so add on that most of the foundational decisionmaking was made by people who were not remotely in a place to be fair or magnanimous to outgroup. and there was 0 chance of anything less than a gruesome shitshow.

knowing all of that is useful, i think, to trying to frame what a realistic way out of the morass could even look like, but unfortunately it mostly yields 'well that shit's fucked' because 70 years on all those problems are worse.

well, the holocaust isn't worse, obviously, but the 'all parties in power are primed to make their decisions on the assumption that the only realistic alternative to murdering is being murdered' has just reinforced itself. and the colonial project has advanced far enough that reversing it would just involve kicking off another round of the same thing, so that's not remotely a reasonable option.

but neither is anything else.

I gotta say I still don't understand what you people mean by "Zionist" here on tumblr or in the broader world.

I guess my frustration is that the question of whether Israel was founded in a monstrous or unethical way does not seem to me to have any bearing on whether or not it can be dissolved as a country in 2025 or 2030 in a way that is safe for the citizens living there.

Honestly the current Netanyahu government seems to consist entirely of bloodthirsty monsters who should be removed from all power and left in a dark hole so that they can't hurt anybody anymore, so it seems like the anti-zionist position ought to be at its strongest but all I seem to find is a sort of glib conviction that the October 7th attacks proved that Israeli citizens should be happy to incorporate Hamas into a new Greater Palestinian government that accords Jewish citizens no particular status one way or another, and that anybody who is hesitant about this is just a racist of some sort.

Also there's a very bizarre conviction that the world's Jewish population can rely on the international refugee system if the shit goes down, and that's, uh, just ridiculous on the face of it.

[walkingnearfoxes]

The Space Between the Lines (Homelander x Reader) - Chapter 4

2.2k words. 18+. Warnings for the Homelander being the Homelander. She/Her Teacher Reader. 

There are a dozen teachers who would kill for this job. You’re just not sure that you’re one of them.

The table is silent for over a minute after Ryan has left, but the Homelander doesn’t seem to mind. His pose is identical to the posturing of his television appearances or the social media posts you tend to breeze through. His arms are folded behind him, and his chest seems unnecessarily puffed out. Wasn't he standing like this in the video Addie sent you last month where he was talking about gun safety?

"fake as hell," She said to you via DM. "how are you gonna worry about gun control when a bullet is like a sneeze to you?"

"Well then," Homelander speaks suddenly and loudly; you must have looked spaced out. "I think that was a great introduction.”

You look at the door for a moment before looking back at him. “Ryan can probably hear us, right?”

He snorts dismissively. “He better not with how expensive those new headphones were.”

You move to stand, but he arches a brow. You slowly sit back down. "Oh. Well…yeah. It went well. Ryan's brilliant."

He smiles as if sharing an inside joke with you. "You don't have to flatter."

"I'm not," You answer quickly. The Homelander looks you up and down for a moment, but his gaze is analytical; you have a sneaking suspicion he's checking your heart rate for a lie. You recall reading an article about him using that trick at a convention last year to delight his fans. Even back then, you had thought the Homelander’s smile seemed stretched. 

"Ryan absorbs information really quickly and thinks critically,” You affirm. “If I had to name a next step, I think he needs some work on his geography."

His face makes an interesting twitch. You can't tell if he's annoyed or impressed. "My son can read a map."

Only years of educational practice keep you from rolling your eyes. You nod instead. "Of course he can. But it's not innate to him yet...I had to point out where England was?"

The Homelander was sitting right there, just an hour ago, when that happened. He couldn't deny it. So, you watch as he hums a laugh - it nearly sounds bitter - and then looks down at the floor. "Yeah, well...his mother didn't give him the best upbringing."

What an odd thing to say. What an odd thing you were not going to investigate further.

"Do you think he understood the colonial relationship?" You ask instead. "I think I was starting to lose him towards the end there."

He looks back up with a slow rise of his brows, seeming surprised to be asked a question. He's silent for a moment - and then, in a change so sudden it startles you, his television grin is back. "Oh, I think he did just fine until your little slip at the end there."

It's your turn to look confused. "I'm...sorry, what slip?"

He walks closer, his gloved hands moving to sit on his hips. He's close enough that you need to tilt your chin up a little to maintain eye contact. "That...comment you made about George Washington. The slaves bit?"

You blink, your back unconsciously straightening in your seat. "The bit?”

"Is your hearing going, teach?" he asks with a show of teeth. "I just don't want you to confuse him."

You let out a quiet sound that is dangerously close to a scoff. "He...he asked."

His answer cuts sharper now. "Look, I don't want his head filled with that DEI bullshit. He's a child. He doesn't need to worry about any of that."

A more intelligent person, or a person with less passion, or a person with more concern for their blood remaining in their body would have agreed immediately. But you are not that person.

"I'm not going to lie to him," You say, your voice soft but firm. "If he wants to understand history and how often it repeats itself, he needs to know all sides of the conflicts. George Washington did own enslaved people. He may have regretted it but clearly didn't regret it enough."

The Homelander says nothing for a long moment. It's as though every part of his body comprehends your words in its own time. His lips quiver, thin, then return to normal. His long fingers drum slowly at his hips. His brows go down, rise, then fall again. Then, like the rest of him has finally caught up, he slowly lowers the front half of his body. He's at eye level with you now, close enough that you see the lines of the face that make up the perfect hero.

"Listen, sweetheart...you're much better than the line of assholes Vought brought me so far," His voice is so soft that you're torn between leaning in and sprinting out of the room. "Ryan likes you. I love that. But that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want. You work for me. You follow my lessons. You teach my son what he needs to do. You got it?"

He seems to expect you to back away. You don't. "And if he asks questions? Should I pretend I didn't hear anything?"

That earns you a frown. "You're pushing it."

"Pushing what? The truth?"

"I don't-" His voice becomes a hiss, and you instinctively flinch. He stops himself. He closes his eyes and lets out a low growl that runs right along your spine. When he looks back at you, he is suddenly the image of calm again. "If he has a question that isn't a direct fact, I answer it.”

You hesitate, but with your faces mere inches apart, you feel you have little choice but to nod. Once you do, Homelander offers a smirk more devious than any he's shown you far. "Good girl."

You can't stop your huff of annoyance. Luckily, your quiet defiance just makes him chuckle this time. "Relax. I'm sure we won’t have any more hiccups, right?"

"So…you'll be here for every lesson?" You murmur.

"Of course I will. History is my favorite subject, after all," His left hand curls under your chin. His fingers flex straight up, forcing you to arch your neck. You watch as his eyes follow the line up your throat. His smirk widens. He brushes his thumb delicately over your chin. "Besides...you're fun to watch."

~-~ 

You settle into a tense but expected routine. You show up to the penthouse every day at the same time, you teach Ryan for an hour, and the Homelander watches you from across the table. In your lowest moments of doubt, you try to focus on Ryan. He warms up to you steadily with each lesson. He still shows you a near-formal level of politeness, but get him to relax or laugh at a joke more daily. You purposefully avoid looking at the Homelander during these more casual moments - but in the glimpses you get, he seems almost too intrigued. You nearly expect him to pull out a notepad and jot down how to use humor with his child. The glimpses of his relationship with Ryan are complicated, at best. Ryan clearly respects his father and wants to spend time with him, but you also notice the confused glances and drumming hands. Same blood, different dialects. 

For this and many other reasons, you loathe how you have to direct any question with even the slightest gray area to Homelander. It's not that he gets the information incorrect; if anything, you're surprised at how much he knows about history. It’s that he seems adamant on delivering the least nuanced approach to history as possible.

"Loyalists? After the Boston Massacre? Nah. Didn't exist."

"Of course the founding fathers all agreed."

"Ryan, why are you so worried about the women? Look at these battles!"

You might just tear a hole in your cheek from how often you had to bite in and quell your rebuttals.

Somehow, that wasn't your biggest concern with the new job. Sure, you couldn't do much without worrying if the Homelander would approve. Yes, you had little to zero power over the lessons you taught. But the biggest problem was that with each passing day, you grew increasingly suspicious that the Homelander didn't see you as just his son's teacher.

He was always watching you. Even if his back was turned, his head followed the sound of your movements. You felt like you were under a microscope, and the feeling didn’t stop when you left the penthouse. It probably didn’t help that advertisements containing his likeness were everywhere in the city, but you couldn’t escape his piercing blue eyes any corner you turned.

 Then, there was the touching. 

If there was ever an opportunity to rest a hand on your shoulder, to squeeze your arm, to push your hair back at the end of a lesson, he took it. He was always gentle, but an intentionality behind his movements unsettled you. It was as if he spent time planning how he would touch you in advance. 

You couldn't call him cruel, necessarily; his rules were absurd but after his initial warning, he never so much as raised his voice. In his mind, the two of you had come to an understanding. Every day now, he would greet you at the door, a hand whispering on your lower back in a guide to the dining room. A cup of tea - always your favorite and always at just the right temperature - sat before your seat, Ryan waiting along with it. Three weeks into the job, you were growing to accept the routine.

Your roommate was a different story.

"This is insane," Addie declares, gesturing wildly with her coffee. It is only kept from spilling from the knowing catch of her partner, Penny. She guides the coffee mug back to the cafe table as Addie continues. "This is the most toxic of toxic work environments."

You sigh, curling a hand anxiously through your hair. "It's not ideal-"

"Not ideal?" Addie scoffs and turns to Penny. "Babe, has she explained all the 'rules' to you? She can't drink, she can't smoke, she can't even wear fucking perfume if he doesn't approve. I'm surprised he hasn't put you on a dieting schedule."

"Addie, take a breath," Penny lightly reprimands. The two of them have been dating since college, and she has always been the calm to Addie's rage. She turns to look at you with a more sympathetic gaze. "It does sound kind of...intense."

This "sporadic coffee date" Addie had brought the two of you to was starting to feel a lot more like an intervention. You glance around the crowded cafe as if it could provide you with some answers. "It's...a lot. But Ryan's a good kid."

Addie glares. "You can't throw your life away because a kid has manners."

"So what exactly do you want me to do, Addie?" You snap suddenly, surprising yourself with the frustration in your voice. "You want me to tell a man that can level a building by kicking it that I quit?"

Addie frowns. "I get that, but-"

"Not to mention that two weeks of this job paid for three months of our rent," You add. "Is it better that we get kicked out of our apartment?"

"Hey, hey," Penny says in a gentle voice. Her hand gently squeezes your forearm. "We're not judging you. We're here for you."

"We're just concerned, dude," Addie adds, her voice abnormally quiet. "Vought's messy, and you're working with the biggest mess of them."

You let out a slow breath and rub your forehead. The days have passed in flips of exhaustion, determination, and disbelief. You slowly reach out to put a hand over Penny's. "I know, I know...I'm sorry."

"No…I'm sorry," Addie says. "I just don't want him to...what the hell?"

Excited voices are suddenly flooding in from the street. The three of you turn to see a commotion forming directly outside the cafe. It's hard to tell what has caused it with the mass of onlookers. You spot people taking out their phones; some are using their cameras, some are going directly to social media, and some are excitedly making calls.

"Celebrity sighting?" Penny offers.

Your stomach drops. You know who it is before the crowds thin to confirm your nerves.

"Hey, good to see you all! Gorgeous Saturday morning, isn't it?" The Homelander's perky voice carries before the crowd thins enough for you to see him. The bright colors of his suit and his stature carve him like an icon amongst the commoners. He meanders around the crowd like he has all the time in the world, posing for selfies and shaking hands with fans on the brink of tears at the sight of their hero. He's wearing the same beaming grin you see every weekday - and with every passing day, every corner of your thoughts.

"Holy fucking shit," Addie whispers.

"It's...a coincidence," Penny says shakily. "There's no way..."

But then he looks up, meets your eyes, and winks.

[thecheshireprincess]

The Game Itself

Chapter IIb: Descending into Darkness

A Chishiya x childhood best friend reader (Niragi's sister!) Series

Content Warning: Canon-typical violence, killing, mentions of blood, mentions of an abusive father/abusive childhood, curse words

A/N: This is a bonus chapter following Niragi when he first gets to the Borderlands; it was originally intended to be much shorter than my other chapters, but as always it got out of hand. I hope you enjoy!

Previous Chapter Masterlist

This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

The restaurant was elegant; nothing but the best for his ritzy coworkers, he supposed. Plush carpeting, jeweled chandeliers, a bathroom with fancy soaps and an attendant. Niragi stretches uncomfortably in his dress shirt, wishing he had joined you and Chishiya for dinner instead. To hell with monthly company obligations, this is just painful.

The man excuses himself from his coworkers, exiting through the patio door to get some fresh air and collect his thoughts. The night is reasonably cool, a fresh breeze tousling the hairs that had fallen out of the bun at the base of his neck.

His mind wanders to you, back to your conversation yesterday. He hadn't let you see it, but he was bothered when you reminded him that you were "an adult now" and felt like you shouldn't be coming to him with your problems anymore. Firstly, because he truly does believe you don't stop needing someone just because you grow up, like he'd told you. Secondly, and more importantly, is that he really wasn't ready for you to grow up and move on with your life. He hated change.

Niragi had devoted his whole life to taking care of you. He was only five years old when you were born, but had been absolutely smitten with you from the moment he looked at your tiny body swaddled in your mother's arms. He was determined to do anything to keep you safe. In a cruel twist of fate, it was your own father that had made that a challenge. Niragi did what he could to shield you from the abuse over the years; hiding you from the older man's wrath, stepping in to take the blows intended for you, cradling your shaking and crying form at night. But by the time he was sixteen, he'd tolerated enough. He left the house one night for the last time, actively looking for a way to steal you away too.

You had one particularly traumatizing night, one that Niragi will never forget. If you had sustained permanent damage later in life, it would have been because of that night. By the end of it, though, he had the evidence he needed to get emergency placement of you and finally whisk you away to safety. When he was eighteen, the court granted him full legal custody. He had the power to protect you the way he always wanted to.

It wasn't as though your father had cared about keeping you, no. He hadn't even wanted either of you in the first place; having children was just another way for his toxic ass to manipulate and control your mother. Once she was gone, it was you that he'd wanted to manipulate. Too similar. Having custody of you was the only way he could control you, a literal child. Once you were with Niragi, you were finally free.

So yeah, he's really only known a life of being your caregiver, your provider, your protector. It did hurt that someday, relatively soon, you'd graduate from medical school and become a doctor. You'd be living the dreams that you had worked so hard for. You'd move out and eventually marry Chishiya - he smirked fondly at that thought. You two were stubborn and hadn't acknowledged your feelings yet, but he knew you would. Someday. He would be proud and happy for you, of course. But when someday came, then Niragi would be all alone. Abandoned. Stuck with his thoughts. Stuck with the side of him that he has trampled so far down that no one ever has to see it. So that you never have to see it.

When you no longer needed him, he would be forced to finally face the truth. There was darkness inside him from the years of abuse. Torture. Of not being good enough for the one person that was supposed to accept you no matter what. Niragi would have to face the fact that despite being your true parent all these years - a good parent, at that - he was not a good person.

And so, he clings to you. Babies you a little bit more than a 19 year old maybe should be. To hell with it really, you were still so young. So hurt. Maybe it's not a question of how much you need him anymore, but how much he needs you. How much he needs you to need him.

Niragi feels suffocated by his own thoughts and yanks the tie away from his neck. Why the fuck did he even agree to wear a tie? Dressing up for dinner is wildly overrated, truly. Next month he'll be suggesting the ramen place on the corner. He's interrupted from his freak out by a loud crackling sound and a flash. Fireworks? The sun hasn't even set yet. What a waste of someone's time.

He turns to re-enter the restaurant and face his stuck up coworkers again. They don't need to know he's having an existential crisis, he'll reign it in. He'll play their game. As the door opens and he looks around, all he sees is dark. Huh? He'd heard of mood lighting, but this was just ridiculous.

The further Niragi walks into the building, the thicker the air felt. Previously lit chandeliers swinging slightly, ominously. Food and drinks sat waiting for the patrons that ordered them, though if Niragi didn't know better, he would have said it had been sitting there for more than just a few minutes. Strange.

"Hello?" He calls, voice echoing. Was this a prank? He felt irritation prickle under his skin. He didn't like being the butt of a joke. What in the fuck was going on? He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, rolling up the sleeves. Trying to breathe more easily.

He didn't know what was going on, but decided that having a weapon couldn't hurt. If it was all a prank, he would just turn it back around on them. He made his way quietly through the dining room and towards the swinging double doors to the kitchen. Presuming that he wouldn't find a gun anywhere - his weapon of choice - a knife would be the next best thing. He searched through the drawers stuffed full of cutlery and along the polished metallic counters, finally settling on a large butcher's knife. This would work for now.

His mind is already on you again, on figuring out if you were here in this place too. You were supposed to be having dinner at that cafe that you and Chishiya were obsessed with, down the street. That would be a good place to start.

Navigating Shibuya was usually an unimaginable pain in the ass that Niragi would do anything to avoid, but not today. It seemed that all of Tokyo was under this strange spell, dark and devoid of human life. Honestly, if he didn't have you to worry about, he'd say it was even kind of nice. Peaceful.

But the thing is, he DID have you to worry about, and he WAS worried. What if something happened to you and you were hurt? Or worse? His eyes widened as he allowed his brain to run away with possibilities. Sprinting. Niragi was now sprinting down the street like a track star towards the usually obnoxiously colored cafe, now standing hauntingly in the shadows.

He could almost see the ghost of you in his memories running too, racing Chishiya down the street to see who could get there first. You would win, you always win.

The man sighed dejectedly, opening the glass door to the completely empty cafe. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he looked around for any indication that you had even been here in the first place.

He approached the booth you always chose, the one with the picture of the fat tabby cat. The one pet you'd always begged for and he never let you have. Regret. His eyes flick to the seat - lying against the window was your brown leather school bag, the one he'd gotten for you to start medical school with. He dives into the booth to snatch it up; so you HAD been here.

Setting the bag on the table, he searches in vain for a clue that he already knew wouldn't be there. He had to be sure. Among your collection of stationary and textbooks, he found a crumpled up packet of paper - your physiology exam from the other day.

He glances over it, eyes catching on the 62/100 marked in the red at the top. He clicked his tongue, so this is what had you so worked up yesterday. It really wasn't the worst score in the world, certainly not worth your panic and tears. Niragi's heart constricted remembering how you'd wailed in his arms afraid he was disappointed in you.

He could never be disappointed in you.

If by some miracle he does find you, and does get you back to your normal life, he's going to get you that fat tabby cat. Maybe even two of them.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Niragi climbed the stairs of the multi-story building that the two of you called home, feeling as though he just summited Mount Fuji. Why had he chosen a multi-story building again? He let out a breathless chuckle - you were constantly complaining about the stairs in this building. It would have made you grin like the Cheshire cat himself to see him huffing and puffing.

The only other place you'd go was home, right? You sure as hell wouldn't go to Chishiya's - even if his father was home (which he wouldn't be), he was a total asshole. Neither of you would find comfort there. No, you'd be looking for HIM, you needed him. He felt sick thinking about it. But also? Weirdly grateful. He had more time.

"There is nowhere you can be taken that I won't find you, I promise."

The man groaned, that promise was not exactly holding water so far. Unlocking the door, he slams it open, anxiety building in anticipation. It took him maybe five seconds to register that the house was empty, you weren't here. He called out for you anyway, delaying the inevitable. No response. He flops down on the couch, throwing his right arm over his eyes, shoes still on. He can't imagine it matters in a world like this. Niragi smiled fondly, you would have a field day with that, no rules.

Niragi knew he needed to figure out what was going on, so that when he did find you, he'd be able to help. To fix it. That's what he did, what he knew. But how do you start finding information in a world like this, that just has nothing?

Suddenly, a steady stream of bright white light flashes and filters through the large bay window across the room. Niragi bolts up and rushes to find the source, squinting against the brightness that his eyes weren't accustomed to. A sign spanning the full height and width of one of the large buildings near the city center had lit up from within the darkness. A beacon. Players this way?

It gave him more questions than answers, but it didn't look like he had any other options. Maybe you would see the sign too. This could be his best chance at finding you, you did love playing games after all.

You wouldn't pass up a chance to win, would you?

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

This was not the kind of game that Niragi had signed up for. He had been thinking cards, maybe video games, maybe even laser tag. No. This game? Coded Eight of Spades and titled The Hunt. How to win? Stay alive and eliminate everyone on the opposing team.

Eliminate, just a softer way to say slaughter. It had been a blood bath. Twenty people joined the game with them, ten per team. By the end, there were only three remaining - Niragi and two of his teammates. What was worse? He hadn't hated it. He was grateful that you weren't there, but he hadn't hated it.

The beast he'd long kept locked away now wide awake.

As he tried to catch his breath and wrap his mind around what the fuck that just was, he gave each of the men standing with him a once over. One was skinny, with flowing hair and an eerily perky attitude. It's giving cult leader. The other was large and muscular, hair cropped short. He looked like he took no shit from anyone - Niragi liked that.

[Game Clear - Congratulations]

Niragi scoffed at the cheerful voice, how strange to hear something that contrasted so starkly to his surroundings. He turned to leave, coated in layers of blood and sweat, but was stopped by a hand on his arm. He turned back in irritation, finding the long-haired guy right behind him. Niragi was not in the mood to be touched.

"You were brilliant with the way you fought, you really know how to handle a weapon!" cult leader praises, causing Niragi to roll his eyes. Amazing what trauma can do for you, right? Like a caged animal trying to survive. "We want you to come with us. This is Aguni, my personal protection unit. You can call me Hatter," the man grins. Creepy. Niragi couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but the grave expression on Aguni's face told him that he wasn't.

He looks between the two men dubiously, "And why the fuck would I do that? I have better things to do than be a second personal guard to you." Caged animal.

Hatter doesn't react to Niragi's outburst, doesn't even flinch, "We're building a utopia, somewhere for players to go when they aren't playing games! Somewhere they'll be safe and can enjoy what time they have left," he explains, gesturing grandiosely. So it is a cult, then.

The man considers it for a minute, having learned from the other players about the Visa system; he would have to keep playing to stay alive. It wasn't just a one time deal. But no. He can't just go and play house with two guys he'll never be able to trust, he has an ACTUAL house to protect - you.

"I can't help you. There's someone I need to find," he mumbles, turning away once more. He misses the way that Hatter's face lights up at that, "ah, but there's strength in numbers, my friend! We have a few others already gathered, and more will be coming! You can come with us to The Beach, work alongside Aguni to make the utopia safe, and everyone will help you look for your missing person!"

Niragi freezes his retreat at this - the weird guy is right. There are games all over Tokyo, and you could have gotten pulled to any one of them. You could be anywhere. You could be dead. That thought haunted him like a ghost, but no. THAT wasn't a possibility he was willing to entertain.

Against his better judgement, Niragi agrees to return with the men to The Beach. As they make the trek back to Hatter's so called utopia, the man finds himself lost in self reflection.

It had been too easy for him to kill, it had felt too right. He hadn't even been afraid when the game started, just charged full of electricity. He wanted to tell himself it was because he knew he had to survive to win. That to win meant he could get to you. But it wasn't that, not really. Because as soon as his adrenaline was pumping in that arena, Niragi had changed. His vision was red. Angry. So angry. Like every person that entered his line of sight was his worst enemy. Like it would be a joy to kill them. Like his inner demons had finally clawed their way to the surface.

He glances at the two men conversing quietly beside him - he knew they couldn't be trusted, that whoever else they had gathered couldn't be trusted. Every person in this place will have a selfish and ulterior motive - animals that are backed into a corner will fight, guaranteed. The Beach would not be the safe utopia that Hatter was promising, no. It would be an even more dangerous and toxic place - men thirsting for the power and notoriety they hadn't had in the old world. It was not going to be a good place to be.

You would be brought there too, Niragi had just guaranteed it. Guaranteed that your safety would be in jeopardy at the hands of tyrannical villains. Why the hell had he agreed? Even without being given more information, Niragi already knew that you'd not be able to leave at your own will. That once you were there, you'd be stuck in a cage thinly veiled as your saving grace, they all would.

What the fuck had he been thinking? Niragi's brain was running at a million miles a minute. He had to think of all the possibilities. Stay five steps ahead of everyone else.

So maybe it wasn't the worst thing in the world - they say it is best to keep your enemies closer than your friends, right? Even so, he needed to start coming up with a plan to get you out when things inevitably came crashing down. It would take some time, and hopefully you would have cracked the code to beating the games and getting home by then. But how could he ensure you'd not get hurt or be messed with while he worked on this? Having Chishiya at your side would help, no doubt. One icy look from him would drop most people dead on contact. Chishiya would be a powerful ally to his plan. But for the very persistent, even they wouldn't mess with a girl who has a psychotic brother, right? Just one game in, and Niragi was already certain he'd changed. He was sure that it wouldn't take much to play the part of a violent and unpredictable man, it was just channeling what he already had inside him. He was broken, but could he use this defect to an advantage?

Deep down in his gut, though, he was a little bit afraid to willingly unleash the beast. What if he lost his own game? How far would he let himself go before he admitted it wasn't just a game, wasn't just to keep you safe? That you would see what he had become and hate him forever for becoming the one thing he always promised not to be? Your father.

Niragi was giving himself a headache with all these thoughts. He really should have been sitting in therapy beside you all those years, instead of waiting in the parking lot.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

It's a hotel. The sanctuary that Hatter and Aguni were talking about was a fucking hotel. Some utopia. Niragi is impressed enough by the hotel having working electricity and water, so he says nothing. He didn't think there was much room for complaining in a world as unforgiving as this.

Not having much time to observe his surroundings, Niragi is pulled immediately into a conference room colored in tacky yellows and browns, warm yellowed light casting shadows around the room. Yuck. He notices the large meeting table hosts two people waiting patiently. A sharp looking woman with her hair cut into a bob, lips painted cherry red and sunglasses hiding her eyes. An interesting choice for night time. The man sat across from her has thin wired glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and has his hands clasped in front of his mouth. He might be the most serious looking person Niragi has ever seen.

He hears the hiss of spray paint leaving a can and looks to the far wall - there is a second woman with long black hair diligently working on painting it. With pictures of playing cards? She turns to look at the group entering the room, smile spreading widely on her face at the sight of Niragi. Eerie.

"Greetings, Citizens of the Beach!" Hatter booms from behind him ceremoniously, "Please join me in welcoming the newest addition to the militant corps - Niragi!" The three people in the room clap obligingly, nearly robotic in their movements. Well trained puppets already, then.

The man just stares blankly back at everyone, unsure of how to act when you're being presented like a trophy. A trophy covered in sweat and blood. Hatter doesn't mind the awkward silence, though, continuing on with his speech, "He was incredible! Truly! Helping us clear the Eight of Spades and not a scratch on any of us! He might have killed even more men than Aguni!" Niragi's eyebrow twitched, but he stayed quiet.

Hatter lowers his volume a bit, thank goodness, approaching the head of the conference table. "He's agreed to join us on the condition that we help him locate someone. I feel it will be easier if we're all looking when we're out in the city and playing games. So, who are we looking for, Niragi? A long lost lover, perhaps?" Hatter wiggles his eyebrows annoyingly, and Niragi has to take a deep breath so as not to drop him where he stands. It will be very hard not to murder this man.

He shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Trying to decide if he really should subject you to this place. What can he say? He's selfish. If he was going to be stuck here, he wanted to at least have you here too, "my little sister." Aguni's head snaps up at this, actually looking at Niragi as he describes you. Interesting. "She'll be with a guy, her best friend. He has shoulder length blonde hair and condescending eyes," Niragi continues, "He's a real smartass and he'll be protective of her. Don't try to cross him, either. He's smarter than you."

Everyone nods, committing the information to their memories, preparing to look for you the next time they go out to play. Hatter gestures for everyone to sit around the table, "Come! We have much to discuss! Our foundation for The Beach must be strong, unwavering!" For hours, they deliberate. Rules, the atmosphere Hatter wanted to cultivate, rankings, everything. Niragi's head was spinning by the end, and he truly regretted his choice; the saying about enemies be damned. He was so tired.

Finally, in what must have been the very early hours of the morning, Hatter dismisses the group. Niragi is the first to stand, stretching slightly and turning to go. To finally lay down after what was the longest day of his life. Facing the door, away from the other Beach members, he says callousely, "make sure everyone knows that if anything happens to her, I will burn this place to the ground."

Hatter nods slowly and somberly at this statement, still sitting with his hands clasped on the table. "The Beach?" He clarifies.

He shakes his head, turning back to meet Hatter's eyes in contempt, "Tokyo."

This was the only choice, the only way. Let the game begin.

♤ ♡ ◇ ♧

Previous Chapter

Tag List: @moonchild323232

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[writingdevil]

hello!! I hope this message finds you well,the idea of a smitten/broken/oppy polycule has been on my mind these past few days and i think itd be interesting to see you explore the dynamic of three people pleasers for vastly different reasons (one who does it for survival, one who does it for safety under a higher power, and one who wants to make everyone happy) and i think that them helping each other with their issues could be really sweet!! i personally kinda picture their dynamic to be something along the lines of um uh!!!

Oppurtunist: ah fuck we getting vulnerable

Broken: ah fuck we getting cared and loved for

Smitten: i love my bfs with issues <3 (claws pointed at his chest, preparing to rip his heart out again)

you dont have to do this if you dont want to!! i just i uh i um uh well uh *explodes*

(Wait, don't explode! I've been insane about this polycule ever since I got this request because I think it would be such an overwhelming amount of feelings, does that make sense? Smitten and Broken are happy to give their lives for love, or what they see as love, but Oppy would rather jump off a cliff than admit a single genuine emotion of his, but I think the other two would help bring that out in him. Anyways, enjoy!)

Let it be known that this entire situation came about because of dinner.

Now, Opportunist liked to consider himself a perceptive fellow, someone who could see all the weaknesses and blind spots that others didn't, which just gave him an opening to strike.

He will say, he hasn't necessarily found a reason to strike yet, but one could never be too prepared when it comes to other people and their unpredictable ways. So Opportunist liked to observe and take mental notes on his fellow flockmates, just to make sure that they could never surprise him or get the upper hand.

But there were two certain little birdies that had been taking up most of his attention.

Smitten and Broken.

Opportunist assumed that they would either be impossible to stand, or incredibly easy to befriend and use. In some strange way, it felt like both options had occurred.

In the time that they've learned to take control of their own lives and freedom, Opportunist had watched as they slowly realised that they had no princess to give their hearts to or be the purpose of their existence, and were consumed with grief.

Opportunist did his best to either steer clear of them, or offer them something in the hopes of placating them. Neither of them were particularly dangerous or useful in that state, so he just tried to be polite and respectful, because emotions like that were not his strong suit.

Thankfully though, they got better, and Opportunist hadn't realised how much he had missed the sound of Smitten's genuine, boisterous voice, or just the quiet presence of Broken that made the flock feel complete. Everything started to go back to normal.

But then Opportunist realised that Smitten and Broken hadn't just gotten closer. They had gotten together.

They would constantly be draped over one another, or giving each other loving gazes from across the room, and were even sharing a room, to Opportunist knowledge.

The actual idea of the two of them becoming a couple wasn't the thing that perplexed Opportunist. He's seen Paranoid sneak into Cold's room more times than he could count. That wasn't what Opportunist was hung up on.

It just-it kind of looked like two natural disasters coming together to fucking destroy the world, did it not?

Surely this relationship could only end in flames, but when he asked Hero if it was okay to let this slide, he just gave him a big, dumb smile and said that they were happy, and that was all that matters.

Whatever. Opportunist just tried to ignore the whole thing, even when it was hard to get the image of them kissing so softly out of his head-and he just wondered how much of their love was real.

One day, Opportunist went around the house, calling people for dinner. That was his job-he wasn't allowed to touch the food, but he can sure as hell be entrusted to get people to listen to him with the promise of food.

He hadn't exactly been thinking when he casually opened the door to Smitten's room.

"Smitten! Din-" Opportunist froze, one hand clutching the doorknob as he looked up, finding Smitten sitting at the edge of his bed, with a flushed Broken on his lap, with their arms around each other.

Oh, he had absolutely walked in on something.

"Sorry!" he squeaked out, but neither of them seemed to mind. Smitten waved one hand in the air while he used the other one to pull Broken closer, and Opportunist tried not to look at the movement too intensely.

"Nonsense, friend! You are quite alright," Smitten assured, and Opportunist chuckled nervously, taking a confident step into the room, noting how Broken was giving him a curious look.

"Well, I just came to say that dinner's ready, so you two lovebirds should probably come down soon." He saw the way they both glowed at the use of 'lovebirds' but didn't say anything.

Smitten planted a kiss on Broken's cheek, and Opportunist couldn't help but just stare at the action, until he realized that Broken was giving him a curious look.

He quickly looked away, spinning around as he said, "Well I'd better get to the others-"

"Is something wrong, Oppy?"

Opportunist froze, before frantically turning to face the couple again, with Smitten furrowing his brows in confusion at him, along with Broken still staring at him.

He waved a hand through the air and tried to act casual. "What? No, of course not! Everything's-" but then he paused, and his eyes lingered on the romantic hold they had in each other, and he couldn't fight the urge to ask, just this once.

He gripped the doorknob for support. "Actually, I do have a question-about you two."

Smitten smiled brightly, standing up while still holding Broken safely. "Of course, my kind friend, ask away! What part of our precious love story would you like to know?" Opportunist kept a pleasant smile on his face, even as Broken patted Smitten's shoulder and requested to be put down, which Smitten did without any hesitation.

"It's just-I suppose I wasn't expecting-this," Opportunist admitted, motioning to the two of them, "the two of you falling in love with each other."

"Oh, would you like me to tell you how it began? How our love first blossomed?"

"No," Opportunist was quick to stop Smitten there, taking a few steps into the room, attempting to remain interested but not too intrigued by their relationship. He shrugged, putting his arms behind his back as he said, "I guess it's just a little strange to me-being able to fall in love when it could hurt you so terribly." He took a tiny bit of sick enjoyment in watching Broken flinch at his words, but then Smitten was quick to grab his hand and whispered some reassurances in his ear.

Once he was sure his partner was okay, Smitten took a bold step before him, and Opportunist's breath hitched at the pure passion and determination in his eyes. His voice was firm yet not harsh as he said, "Love is a powerful force my friend, and I promise you that if you treat it with respect, it gives you that back tenfold." There was a heaviness in Smitten's words, one that even Opportunist could tell was coming from a sore place in Smitten's heart.

But he didn't want to delve deeper into that, for reasons he couldn't explain, so instead he just made a show of grimacing at the two of them, and casually threw out, "I just don't see the point of it, really." Opportunist tried to leave again, to escape this conversation that was continuing to make him feel nervous for some reason, until Smitten's voice cut through the tension.

"Let's make a deal, then."

Opportunist froze, then sent a look of confused interest over his shoulder. "What?"

Smitten glanced at Broken, who nodded his head in permission with a small smile on his face, and Smitten looked back at Opportunist, a dark intensity in his eyes that Opportunist's knees buckled at.

"Let's make a deal. You spend one week with us, as part of our relationship, and we'll prove to you that love is a beautiful, worthwhile thing." It wasn't exactly the love itself that Opportunist had a problem with, but who was falling in love, but he couldn't say that. So he spun back around confidently and asked, "You think a week is enough time to convince me?"

Smitten arched a brow as he looked him up and down. "With you, my fellow? More than enough."

Opportunist was so blinded by mortification that he didn't even think before shaking on it.

Day One

Opportunist was determined to get through this week by acting as aloof towards their affections as possible. He was going to come out of this deal the victor, to prove that some loves weren't meant to be. He wasn't sure why he needed to prove it so badly, but he just did.

Thankfully, on the first day, Smitten and Broken just took him on a peaceful walk. They did insist on holding both of his hands, but Opportunist managed to push the warmth of their touches away long enough to hold a conversation with them.

He was definitely going to win this.

Day Two

They didn't do anything particularly exciting, except for lounge about and talk all day, taking turns preening each other. The act of pretending to not care about this whole thing grew harder when they wouldn't leave his side, but the feel of Smitten so delicately preening his precious feathers, did help loosen him up-even to the point of falling asleep around them.

That didn't mean anything. Everyone grew a little sleepy during preening, that didn't mean anything about Smitten or Broken, or that Opportunist actually felt safe around them. No way.

He still had everything under control.

Day Three

This was when things started to go downhill for him.

Opportunist had been sharing a bed with the couple, because when they expressed concern over not wanting him to be uncomfortable, Opportunist just dug his heels in further and said that he was completely fine with it-a lie, which was his first mistake.

Opportunist doesn't remember much about his nightmare-but there was just heat surrounding him on all sides, and there were cuts in his palms, and when he looked up he saw her. He wanted her to go away but she was stuck and she was stuck because of him. He did this. He caused this.

He was evil he was evil he was evil-

"Oppy?"

Opportunist gasped as he woke up, body wracked with shaking as he laid between Smitten and Broken, frantically blinking to peer into the darkness of the bedroom.

"Oppy, are you okay?" That was Broken, whispering softly to him. He was staring up at him with concern all over his face, his hand itching to reach out, but it never touched Opportunist.

Opportunist couldn't do anything but stare at Broken for a few tense minutes, his brain trying to come to terms that he wasn't in danger, and that his dreams couldn't hurt him right now.

Every one of them got nightmares, but Opportunist made sure to never let that show in front of the others, that his mind and his choices tortured him just like everyone else. He handled his nightmares in his own company, by panting and quietly crying into his pillow, so that nobody could hear him breaking down.

He hadn't had a nightmare in ages, so he hadn't been concerned about that-but life just loved to screw him over.

He gripped the sheets underneath him as Broken continued to look at him with that pity, that tenderness that meant he saw Opportunist as weak and pathetic, so he had to ignore how badly his body shook right now, and he attempted to smile at Broken.

The smile was wobbly and it hurt his face to stretch his skin like that when he was physically holding back a breakdown at the same time, but he pushed through, and tried to keep his tone light and friendly as he said, "I'm fine, Broken," hoping his voice didn't break halfway through. "I'm a-absolutely okay right n-now." Oh god, was he stuttering?

He could feel tears pooling in his eyes, but he frantically blinked them away before Broken could see. "N-Nothing's wro-"

But then he felt soft hands cupping his face, and Broken was pressing up against him, and Opportunist could feel his heart beating against his own rapid one.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Broken as he whispered to him, "You don't have to keep all the hurt inside you, y'know?" Broken ran his thumbs over Opportunist's cheeks, and he suddenly felt like everything within him was bursting to be let out, all the good and rotten parts that he tried to ignore most of the time, an impenetrable wall that he was convinced would hold.

But a stupid nightmare and a sympathetic little birdie were quickly changing that.

Broken glanced down at his chest, right where his heart was pounding furiously, and he said, "It's okay to let yourself feel bad, Oppy," but he said with such a heaviness, like Broken understood having his life being one performance-and he guessed worshipping counted as a performance. But it was the fact that he knew and he was telling Opportunist that he understood him, that it was okay to let those feelings that you hate out-that made his face crumble as sobs consumed his whole body.

Hot tears cascaded down his face as he sobbed as quietly as he could, and Broken hugged him close, and he found himself practically clutching Broken against him, too scared to be alone anymore.

Broken whispered reassurances to him and rubbed his back, and from behind Opportunist, he heard Smitten-who had been fast asleep up until now-twist around with a soft noise of concern in the back of his throat. He turned around and threw an arm around Opportunist, sliding up against his back and pressing his face against his neck, and Opportunist might have cried harder from how nice it all felt, to not have to perform in this moment.

He wasn't sure how long he cried for, but he does remember having a much easier time sleeping with Broken and Smitten cuddling him.

Day Four

After the chaos that was last night, Opportunist wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his own room and fade away from reality under the comfort and safety of his own blankets.

He told himself that he didn't want to see Broken and Smitten, because he knew they'd want to talk about it, and Opportunist would much rather die than do that.

But to his surprise, when the lovebirds eventually found him, they didn't ask about his nightmare at all. In fact, they were sat around the kitchen table with a deck of cards, asking if he wanted to play with them.

He-doesn't get asked to play games a lot.

It was actually quite fun, even if Smitten wasn't very good at it. But Broken was unexpectedly very good at cards, and Opportunist even found that he lost a round to him once.

The embarrassment and heaviness from last night was slowly leaving his body, and was being replaced with a warmth in his chest-but that surely meant nothing, right?

Day Five

Opportunist had actually found the time to be alone-or more accurately, Broken had finally decided that he could be trusted to not break down in tears.

Opportunist knew that them playing cards with him was just a way to make him feel better after his nightmare, and while he appreciated it, he felt like he needed to repay them somehow.

Usually, his first reasoning for this would be so that they couldn't use their acts of kindness against him in some way, but today, he just felt like showing his thanks to them. Which was weird for him, but he didn't look too deep into it.

So he spent the whole morning thinking of how to show his appreciation, and what he came up with wasn't exactly original or jaw dropping, but Opportunist wasn't exactly a romantic guy.

Once he had his gift, he then spent the rest of the day worrying if they'll like it, if it was even good enough for them, and if he should just forget it-

"Opportunist, my dear!"

Opportunist yelped as he spun around, keeping his arms securely behind his back.

He had just been leisurely walking around their garden, when Smitten suddenly surprised him. He watched as Smitten arched a brow in curiosity, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at his hidden arms, and for good measure, Opportunist wrapped his wings around his arms as well.

"Smitten! Hi! How are you? What is it?" God, he's never sounded so nervous before. Why? It was just Smitten.

But the way Smitten beamed at him made his breath hitch, and when he took a step forward, Opportunist found it difficult to not take a step back, that he felt like keeping his distance would keep his head clear right now.

"Well, I haven't seen you all day, and I was starting to get worried." Opportunist's face fell in surprise. "Wait, really?"

Smitten nodded firmly. "Of course, Broken was beginning to get lonely without you."

Confusion and warmth started to mix in Opportunist's head, and he wasn't sure if he could think straight like this. "But-But he has you, shouldn't that be enough?"

Smitten then smiled at him in a way as if he knew something that Opportunist didn't, and instead asked, "What's behind your back?"

Opportunist felt his feathers betray him by fluffing up in that moment, and he looked down at the ground in embarrassment as he muttered, "Just-something for you."

Smitten gasped. "For me? Darling, you shouldn't have!" Opportunist had to try extremely hard not to think about how nice it had felt to be called darling, and the amount of heat and butterflies rising within him was beginning to be too much to bear, so Opportunist just squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his arms out in front of him. "Here!"

There was silence, until Opportunist felt Smitten take the gift out of his hands, and then he opened his eyes.

Smitten was staring down at the bouquet of red roses in awe and wonder, and Opportunist was quick to explain, "I-I remember roses being your favourite, but I wasn't sure about Broken. I just wanted to give you both something to say thank you-for helping that night."

He tried to look at anywhere that wasn't Smitten's face, but his eyes were always drawn back to how sweet he was looking at the flowers. Then that sweetness was directed at him as Smitten said, "Thank you so much, my dear." But then he stepped closer to him, leaning his head to the side in order to give him a peck on the cheek, and Opportunist panicked, quickly stumbling back a step as he blurted out, "I need to ask you a question!"

Smitten paused, and Opportunist wasn't sure why he had said that, only that they were getting into dangerous territory that they needed to back away from, but he might as well ask at this point.

"But the question might-hurt you," Opportunist nervously added, but Smitten just nodded in permission, a more calm and serious look on his face.

Opportunist couldn't find it within him to ask this question with confidence, so his voice came out soft and uncertain as he asked, "How do you know that what you have with Broken is-real?" He took a deep breath, and continued, "How do you know that the two of you aren't just using each other to fill the hole that she left? How can you be so sure that this time, you won't hurt each other?"

Opportunist found enough courage to look Smitten in the eye, and was surprised to not find him brimming with rage at the thought of his love being anything less than pure. He was staring down at the flowers with a bittersweet expression, and then he shrugged, an action that seemed weird on Smitten.

"I suppose," he began, "that I may have-struggled to adapt without the princess, and that my love for her wasn't always-good." It seemed like Smitten was having trouble articulating himself, as if a part of him was still ashamed at what he had done.

"But Broken understood how I felt, to a degree, and there was a comfort in that, that we both understood how the other was feeling, that we weren't alone. It wasn't just Broken, you know. The others tried to help fill the hole in our hearts, until I realised that the hole wasn't from me missing the princess."

"Really?" Smitten chuckled, and finally looked up at him, taking another confident step forward, and this time Opportunist couldn't find the strength to back away. Smitten smiled lovingly at him, and whispered, "It was from not expressing my love to everything I adored." Then he pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, and Opportunist's knees trembled.

He's not so sure what to think anymore.

Day Six

They were in bed again, and Opportunist was lying down with Broken laying on top of him, and Smitten sitting up to his right, reading a story to them.

Broken hadn't been feeling the best, so they decided to stay in and keep him company, and Opportunist busied himself with rubbing a hand up and down his back for comfort.

Everything was quiet and peaceful, but Opportunist's brain felt like it had melted into nothing, like he had no thoughts other than love.

He thought that Smitten and Broken's relationship would be doomed to fail, but their capacity for love only seemed to make them stronger. They weren't going to fall back into that darkness, not when they had someone pulling them back from it.

Broken squirmed above him, and Opportunist looked down, watching as Broken sighed as he rested against his chest.

Broken wasn't as depressing as Opportunist initially thought. He was actually incredibly perceptive of how others were feeling when his head was clear, and Opportunist found a comfort in knowing that he wouldn't be turned away for breaking down in front of Broken.

Broken felt his staring, and lifted his head to stare back at him, and Opportunist could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and so could Broken probably.

Broken's voice was an almost silent whisper as he asked, "Do you want to kiss me?" Opportunist's mind went blank as he nodded, and Broken smiled, and then they were both leaning in to kiss each other.

It felt good. It felt soft, and it felt safe.

"Finally." Then there was Smitten, and the sound of the book being tossed, before Opportunist felt hands cupping his face, and he was brought into the hungry mouth of Smitten.

Smitten was passion, and he set every inch of Opportunist aflame, so strong that he mind was struggling to keep up with him. But it felt real. It felt like love, from the both of them.

Opportunist wasn't even mad that he really didn't last the week.