#it's his world and we're just living in it

[infimace-blog]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for reading.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: ——

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah

warnings: light smut—fingering (r receiving), weapons (is this something i need to mention? idk lol)

word count: 7k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

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Natasha meeting your family was not on your list of priorities.

In fact, imagining her at dinner with your parents or in your grandparents' living room was enough to make you shudder. The mere idea of her chatting with your mother over a cup of coffee?

Horrendous. A nightmare.

You try to keep her a secret. Your secret. Your summer love, your escape from reality, your something so impossibly out of place in the world you grew up in you're not even sure she's real.

But then, she's leaning against the gate of your grandparents' house again. You'd recognize the red hair and black leather jacket from a mile away. The way she sticks out in the uniform, boring normalcy of your neighborhood is almost offensive.

"No, no, no", you mutter under your breath, throwing the door open. You fly down the stairs and run up to her, silently praying nobody will see you. You grab her arm and yank her away from the gate. "You can't be serious right now-"

"Y/N", your father suddenly calls. You stiffen. "Who's that?"

Slowly, you turn around. Natasha follows your gaze until she's met with the sight of your father. It takes all of her strength not to crack a grin — the ironed pastel polo, the khakis, the loafers that look like he's never walked on actual grass. Way too pristine for a casual evening at home.

You elbow her side when you notice how she raises her eyebrows, but her expression doesn't waver.

"A friend", you say awkwardly, tugging at her arm again. She ignores you. "We're just, uhm..."

"Going for a ride", Natasha finishes unhelpfully.

"Around town."

"Maybe get some ice cream."

"No booze", you add. Your father stares at you, his expression both stoic and amused. "Even though I, uhm, technically-"

"Alright", he finally cuts you off. "What's going on? Is this a date?"

Your face flushes at the blunt question. If he figures this out, you're doomed — your parents insist on meeting every person you go out with. Then, they subject them to scrutiny sharper than police officers grilling suspects. Passing that test is nearly impossible.

You know better than to hope for their approval, especially when it comes to Natasha.

"No!", you blurt out. "She's just- we-"

"I'm a friend", she says, pinching your side. The noise you let out is completely undignified, but at least you stop rambling incoherent nonsense. "Nothing to worry about, sir."

"Right", your father says slowly. He lets his eyes run up and down your body, from head to toe, assessing your appearance. You didn't dress casually, and you know it. His eyes narrow. "Well, if you're going to spend time together, you should come in and introduce her. It's almost dinner time anyway. How does pot roast sound?"

She's enjoying your discomfort much more than she should. Smoothly, she replies that pot roast does sound good. Her eyes meet yours, twinkling teasingly. Suddenly, you envision it happening.

Natasha, surrounded by your parents and grandparents. She'll stick out like a sore thumb. No way are they going to endorse her.

You feel like ripping your hair out.

"We're good", you quickly say, grabbing Natasha's arm. "We'll just-"

"I insist", he says. "Come on."

With that, he opens the gate a little wider and looks at you expectantly. Natasha, ever-charming and professional when necessary, nods and intertwines her hand with yours. You mutter a quiet "traitor" as you're led inside.

The house smells like garlic and the lavender potpourri your grandmother keeps everywhere, which is a disgusting combination. You feel Natasha's fingers brush against your shoulders as she takes off your jacket for you. Your dad watches her as she does that. You can't quite figure out what he's thinking.

"Honey, we've got company", he calls out as you enter the dining room. Your mom pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyeing Natasha warily.

"You are?"

"Natasha, ma'am."

"A 'friend' of Y/N's", your father says. "We'll need another plate."

Your mother scrutinizes Natasha shamelessly. You know she can see every detail, from the scar above her eyebrow to the dirt clinging to her boots. She'll bring it up later.

"Friends", she repeats. Her gaze locks with yours. You lift your chin with an air of defiance. "You're staying for dinner, I assume?"

"Oh, she's not-"

"Nonsense. Sit down", your father says, shooing you to the table.

Natasha swiftly slides a chair back and gestures for you to sit. Cheeks burning, you avoid everyone else's eyes as you sit down. Her hand briefly brushes against yours. At least she's next to you.

Your mother offers Natasha some wine. She declines politely, saying she doesn't drink — a blatant lie, as you had vodka when you were staying at her house. But you're actually relieved. This should at least be something your parents will be impressed by.

Your grandparents don't pay much attention to Natasha. It hasn't even crossed their minds that she could be more than just your friend. You came out years ago, but they've been ignoring that piece of information expertly. It doesn't fit their narrative.

But your parents know what's going on. They keep their eyes on Natasha even as they're picking at their salad or sipping wine. Eventually, your mother clears her throat. A sound you remember from your childhood, one that usually meant trouble. You stiffen in your chair.

"So", she says, setting down her fork and knife. "What do you do, Natasha?"

"A bit of everything", she says. Her eyes don't give much away. You shrink into your seat as you realize that you don't exactly know what she does, either. "You have a lovely home, by the way."

"Oh, thank you." Your mother watches her, eyes narrowed with the realization that Natasha managed to evade her question. She purses her lips. "So-"

"Your daughter is lovely as well", she adds.

You want to sink into the floor.

You spend the rest of the evening trying to steer your parents' attention away from Natasha. Somehow, it works — soon enough, they're talking about friends they saw in town and upcoming church events. You catch your grandmother glance at Natasha's jacket, draped over her chair, repeatedly, but she doesn't comment on it.

You know what's going through their heads, and you don't like it. Thankfully, Natasha is as smooth as can be. She's not too engaged in the conversation, but she appears just interested enough for it to be polite. She laughs at the right moments, she compliments the food, she asks the right questions and gives answers that are too vague to be judged easily.

Finally, you've cleaned off your plates of apple pie. Natasha helps stack the dishes and clean off the table, then you excuse yourselves.

Stepping outside feels like a huge weight falling from your shoulders.

"Dear god", you say, leaning against the trunk of the tree you used to climb when you were a child. Natasha smiles, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. "I'm done. Seriously. This was a nightmare."

"It wasn't that bad", she says. "They like me, I think."

You raise your eyebrows. "I'm not even going to comment on that."

"Rude." She steps closer, brushing her elbow against your side. You smile faintly. "I think I made a good impression, no?"

"It could've been worse", you admit, though you're not too sure about the 'made a good impression'-thing. Impressing your parents? Nearly impossible. "I'm just glad we got this over with. Next time, pick me up somewhere else."

Natasha leans in, her hands still in the pockets of her jackets. She smirks, brushing her nose against yours before kissing you. A quick kiss, but you feel the thrill shoot through your veins. Kitchen window, you think, then peck her lips before pulling away. You rest your head against the rough bark of the trunk.

Your smile makes Natasha fall in love all over again.

. . .

"What do you mean you 'don't know'?"

You glance up from your book. Your eyebrows are furrowed, your foot is tapping a restless pattern against the firm cushions of the couch. This has been going on for twenty minutes and you're very close to hiding in your room.

"I just don't know, okay? I don't know what she does. She didn't tell me."

Your mother rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. Something white and furry — your grandmother's devil cat named Thoreau — slithers past her legs and disappears into the hallway.

"Y/N", she says, stepping closer. "There's no way you've been going out with that...woman and don't know what she does. Who she is, in fact. I mean, have you looked at her?"

Oh, you have. You know what she's talking about. It makes your frustration spike.

"What's so bad about her, huh?", you snap, shutting your book abruptly. Her eyes widen for a split second. "She's nice. She treats me well. She's smart and funny. I really don't get why you dislike her so much!"

"Excuse me? I never said I-"

"You don't have to say anything!"

"Y/N!" Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and unrelenting. You feel yourself flinch. "Don't use that tone with me. I want to know who she is. Who she really is. Because even you seem to have no clue."

You go silent. Your face falls, revealing how accurate your mother's observation is.

You don't know Natasha. You know her, but you don't know her. What you gathered so far are little pieces of information, minuscule bits, knowledge that won't get you far.

You have no idea where she's from, or why she's in this town, what shes does.

But you know that she loves black coffee and braids, and movies and swimming. She loves falling asleep with her head on your chest, though she usually doesn't sleep through the night.

She counts stars when she doesn't know what to talk about. At night, she crosses streets without looking twice.

She can't draw to save her life. Her sketch of a mouse looked more like a gray circle with legs. But when she used a pen to draw on your arm, you wished the ink would seep into your skin so the drawing would never fade away.

Whether you know the things that actually matter is a question you can't answer.

You shift under your mother's gaze, slowly averting your eyes. Your bottom lip hurts from the way you chew on it. Your fingers lightly dig into your thigh.

"What do you want me to do?", you ask. You sound more petulant than you'd like to admit.

She exhales, willing herself to soften a little. Tentatively, she sits down next to you and takes your book. She stares at the cover as if gathering her thoughts. She tries to remind herself that this is nothing more than a summer romance — something that'll pass eventually. Rather sooner than later, she hopes.

"Talk to her", she says. "Make sure you know what you're getting into. Because you're not about to ruin your life because of one summer."

Her words hit harder than expected. You can tell she's serious, because she always is. You've started to think she's incapable of making jokes.

It all settles in your stomach, makes your thoughts churn. You nod, imperceptibly almost, but your mother notices. She reaches over to squeeze your hand before getting up.

Eyes glued to the cover of your book, you sit there. The image blurs, as does the title.

You've built a fragile, beautiful thing together — and you need answers from Natasha before summer slips away.

. . .

It's a warm summer night. You managed to sneak out at a little after midnight, carefully walking down the stairs and shutting the window behind you. The seat of Natasha's SUV had started to feel familiar as you sat down in her car.

Now, you're back at the lake behind her house. Its surface shimmers in the milky moonlight. The towel creates a barrier between your thighs and the wood of the dock you're sitting on, preventing you from getting splinters. Your toes dip into the water, which is definitely much cooler already. Summer is coming to an end.

She swims up to you so she's right in front of the dock. Her fingertips loosely wrap around your ankle and she presses a kiss to it, her lips cold and wet against your skin. You can't tell whether she knows how your thoughts are racing, how you've been trying to voice your fears for an eternity now.

"Join me", she says, rubbing circles against your skin. Her green eyes seem deeper than the lake she's in.

You tilt your head, your eyebrows raised skeptically. It's tempting, really, but the idea of getting all wet and cold isn't a pleasant one.

"I don't know", you hesitate. "I think I'm fine right here."

Natasha hums and squeezes your ankle. She tugs on it, lightly enough to not make you worry too much. "You say that now...", she then says, quickly causing you to change your mind about not worrying.

With one swift pull, you slip from the dock. The world tilts, you gasp, and suddenly, you're underwater. But you're pulled back up before your panic can take root, her arms around your thighs, the cold water a stark contrast to the heat simmering in your chest. Natasha's smile matches yours.

"Got you."

"I'm wet", you mutter, brushing wayward strands of hair out of your face. She presses her lips against your jaw. Your fingers grasp her chin and you give her a real kiss, a slow and all-consuming one, sweet from the lake water.

Your hands run into her hair, combing through it and untangling it. Her fingertips dig into your thighs. You feel the spinning sensation in your head slow down.

Finally, you part. Your lips hover close to hers, letting you swallow her breath. Natasha kisses your bottom lip and then trails her lips down your neck until she reaches your chest. Her tongue traces the seam of your bikini top.

You stop her before she can go further. Your fingers rake through her hair, making her pause.

"I need to talk to you", you admit. She looks up, worry crossing her features. "It's nothing bad. I think."

"Your parents?", she asks, slowly lowering you into the water. Her arms stay wrapped around your waist in a loose hold.

The smile on your face is bitter. You sigh and touch her jaw, fingers lightly drumming against it. "Kind of", you say. "But also...everything else. Us. This. I mean...summer is about to end. What happens then?"

She should've anticipated this conversation. Summer won't last forever — you'll leave, as will she. Responsibilities loom over her like dark clouds. Suddenly, she sees a future in which she never meets you again.

"I don't know", she murmurs. Her hand slides up and down your back repeatedly, fingertips slipping under the tight fabric of your bikini. "I didn't think about it."

Her words feel like a needle in your chest. You've been awake way too many times, tossing and turning, wondering what your future is going to look like. Whether she's in it as well.

There's no way she's this indifferent to what happens next.

"You didn't?"

"I mean..." She sighs and leans in, her lips briefly pressing against your temple. "Of course I did. In a way. But I've mostly been focused on the now. You're leaving, aren't you? You're going back to college. And I..."

Natasha doesn't say anything else. You look at her with your eyebrows raised, silently promoting her to keep going. You both know what you are doing once summer ends. Where you're going, who you're going to be with, all that stuff.

But Natasha? You have no idea. She won't tell you.

"Listen", she begins, letting go of you. The loss of contact is unbearable. "There are things you're better off not knowing."

"Are you kidding?" You swim closer, the water brushing along your body. Disbelief is written all over your face. "Natasha, please tell me you aren't serious. If it's that bad, you have to tell me. I need to know. I mean, my mom-"

"Is that's what this is about?" Her voice hasn't changed in volume, but the tone is so very different. Cold, biting, accusatory. It makes you stop in your tracks. "Your parents?"

"No!" You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing yourself to not start a fight. "No. Of course not. I don't care what they think. But sometimes, even they are right. Natasha, I need to know. You have to tell me if you want this to keep going."

"Of course I want to keep this going", she snaps. "But what if I tell you and then never hear from you again, huh? You ever thought about that?"

You shake your head and grab her hand. She recoils initially but then relaxes, her eyes locked on your face warily. "We can sort it out. I really don't believe it can be that bad."

Seconds of silence. Her hand twitches in yours and she frowns. When she looks away, it feels like everything has started to slip from your grasp.

"You're naive", she states quietly. Your chest burns with an odd mixture of shame and defensiveness. If only you knew that she isn't trying to insult you — no, this is her attempt at keeping you safe from whatever mess her life is.

She's seen your life. Has met your parents, heard about your upbringing. She knows you're wealthy, a top student at one of the USA's most prestigious universities. Your future is dipped in diamonds and gold, enhanced by glasses of champagne and dinner parties.

Natasha's life is bullets and blood. There's nothing else to be said.

"Stop pushing me away", you plead. She feels her throat constrict. "We can work this out. We can get through this."

"I'm not pushing you away", she argues. "I'm being realistic. There's a difference between the two."

"Maybe it's both", you say, wading closer to her again. "It probably is. But I want to know, Nat."

Stubbornness gives way to exhaustion. She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from yours.

"Not yet", she says weakly. You watch her swim to the latter attached to the dock. Her hands grab the metal bars and she pulls herself up, water dripping off her body. Her skin is smooth in the pale light. Trying to stop her seems futile.

She grabs a towel and wraps herself into it. Her figure retreats towards the house, getting smaller and less defined with each step. You wait for a moment, then you exhale in frustration and follow her inside.

The wooden floors feel slippery underneath your feet. You blindly reach for the light switch only to find out the electricity is gone — again. You don't even bother looking for the flashlight, as you've already memorized the layout of the small house.

"Natasha", you call, not seeing her in the living room. You peek into the bedroom, but it's empty. "For fuck's sake, don't do this!"

Something touches your spine. You whip around with a start. You aren't quite sure what you were expecting, but you should've known it'd be her. She stares at you, making no move to apologize.

"It's late", she says.

You blink, caught off guard for a moment. "What?"

"It's late. You're probably tired."

"Natasha-"

"Let's go to sleep", she says, sounding resolute. You give in.

The mattress is the same, but she changed the bedsheets. They're a navy blue and not as faded as the floral ones, but they're just as soft.

There's a distance between the two of you. Your back is facing her, she's staring at the ceiling. She tries closing her eyes, falling asleep, but it doesn't work. At some point, she rolls over. Her front is flush with your back. Her lips ghost over your shoulder as her arm tentatively wraps around your middle.

You find yourself scooting into the touch.

"Asleep?", she murmurs, her hand under your shirt now.

"No."

Natasha's lips press against the back of your neck. Her breath is warm on your skin and your eyes close automatically. Her hand cups your breast, massaging it gently. You feel goosebumps form all over you.

"Still mad at me?", she whispers, rolling your nipple between her cold fingers. You huff, but the sound morphs into a quiet moan.

"I don't know", you say breathily. Her thumb brushes over the sensitive bud. Suddenly, you're wet again, but this time not because of lake water. "Shit."

Natasha kisses along your neck. Her teeth graze your skin before she sucks on it, leaving love bites behind. "You want to?"

You turn your head, burying your nose in the soft pillow underneath you. It's petulant, in a way, causing Natasha to smile. She kisses your earlobe.

"Yes or no?", she asks. You sigh at the realization that you can either get over yourself and say yes, or disappear into the shower and take care of this yourself.

It's not a hard decision.

"Yes", you mutter. Natasha hums and leaves wet kisses behind your ear, her breath hot.

"You're sure?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"I like to double-check", she replies.

Lips against your skin, she slips the strap of your top off your shoulder. Your head lolls back, resting against her forehead. Her hand trails from your arm to your stomach. She undoes the drawstring of your shorts and the gentle pressure around your waist disappears. Her fingers press against your cunt and she breathes into your ear.

You stifle a moan when she slides her fingers through your cunt, gathering wetness. Her fingertips pinch your clit and you let a soft whine slip. Heat spreads on your skin.

"You're so pretty", she mumbles. The kisses on your shoulder turn more feverish, peppered all over you, hot and wet and open-mouthed. You writhe against her, your flushing face hidden in your pillow. Her fingers slip into you, leaving you no time to get used to the sensation. "It'd be a shame if you stayed mad."

You don't respond. Natasha's fingers curl inside of you, hitting that sweet spot and making you even wetter. You're dripping down her wrist, ruining the sheets. Her fingers are slick with your arousal.

A third finger works you open. Waves of pleasure roll down your back and add to the coil in your lower belly. Heat floods your veins and your vision goes blurry. You see stars, but they're oh so different from the ones in the sky.

Natasha's movements slow down right before you're about to come. When you turn your head to look at her and protest, she doubles down and starts moving faster. Surprised moans tumble from your lips, your eyes wide. Her thumb rubs circles on your clit. Her expression remains the same, but you can see her pupils dilate.

Your eyes hold hers as you come, walls clenching around her and cheeks red. Aftershocks buzz through your body.

"Still mad at me?", she mumbles. You feel her lips drag across your jaw.

"A little", you admit, thought your voice, softened and breathy, betrays you. You can feel her smile against your cheek, the gentle curve of her lips, and, weirdly, it hurts not being able to see it. You pull away just enough to look at her.

Sometimes, it feels like her eyes are the only glimpse of her world you're allowed to see. A world she lived in long before she entered yours.

You roll over and rest your forehead against hers. You grasp her hand and bring it up to your lips, kissing her still wet fingers.

"I want to know you", you say quietly. "I don't know if you want me to know you."

"That's..." She hesitates, her voice cracking. "That's not true. It's just not that simple, Y/N."

You watch her with furrowed eyebrows. Slowly, you intertwine your fingers with her. She doesn't waver, doesn't pull away — which is something, at least. But it's not what you were hoping for.

Her green eyes meet yours again. Her world flickers in front of you, blurry and unsteady, too faint to decipher.

"I never asked for simple", you then say. "I'm not simple, either. None of this ever was. I told you from the beginning."

"That's different."

"It's really not."

"It is."

Her voice is louder this time. You let go of her hand and prop yourself up on your elbow, your eyes narrowed. Natasha's eyes are challenging, but she can't hide the vulnerability that shimmers through.

"Don't yell at me", you warn quietly.

"I'm not yelling", she mutters, her gaze shifting away from you. Her jaw tightens with both frustration and guilt. "My point stands. You have a pretentious family. So what? Not the biggest issue I can think of."

You raise your eyebrows and shift to fully sit up. Her words sting — downplaying your struggles is something you didn't expect from her. Apparently, Natasha notices the effect her words had, and she quickly sits up as well.

"You know what I meant. I know it's not easy for you, either, but you've got to understand that things are difficult."

"I can't understand until you explain it to me", you say, growing more frustrated with every second. "What is it, huh? Are you secretly married? Have a kid somewhere? Maybe you killed someone."

The last sentence — one you definitely weren't being serious about — makes her eyes widen.

Guilt. It hits her like a flash flood. Hands stained with blood, so many lives taken, a past she doesn't want to be hers. With you, she thought she could pretend. Push it all away, be someone else for once.

The thought that you may think of her like that — that she's someone who's capable of ending lives — hurts more than it should. Suddenly, she feels like you can sense the darkness she's kept buried for so long.

She sits up abruptly, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. Seeing her like this does everything but soothe your worries.

"What?", she says quietly. She sounds anguished, hurt, and you're the reason.

Natasha and you stare at each other. You can hear the wind outside, the cicadas, and for the first time ever, the nightly noises don't manage to calm you down. For some reason, they make everything worse.

You don't know how to backtrack, so you don't. You grow more helpless by the second, until she finally speaks again.

"You have no idea what you're talking about", she says. "You don't get to joke about that. It's not funny. Not to me."

"Natasha..."

"I'm serious", she cuts you off. "You don't know who I am. You have no idea. I can promise you that. A few weeks spent with me don't fucking change that."

"Then help me! Explain it to me! But don't just leave me in the dark like this!"

"It doesn't fit into your world, Y/N", she says, suddenly getting up. She starts rubbing her neck — an anxious little mannerism you haven't seen her exhibit yet. "Explaining it won't do anything. It'll only change how you see me, and I don't know if I can deal with that."

"Then what's the solution, hm? You'll keep it from me forever?"

"Forever doesn't exist with us!"

Everything seems to freeze. You were about to get up, but your body seems to have changed its mind. You stay seated on the mattress, staring up at her with disbelief and utter, pure heartbreak.

"Is that what you think?", you ask slowly. Natasha almost winces. "That this will just end?"

"Most likely", she says, taking a step backward. Her hand reaches behind her until she finds the dresser. She grabs its edge, her knuckles turning white. "You don't know what you're asking for, Y/N."

"I'm asking for you", you say, finally managing to get up.

"You're being naive."

"Stop calling me that!"

"It's true!"

"You're yelling again", you warn.

Natasha turns, her back facing you. She rubs the back of her neck as she breathes unevenly.

You hesitate as you stand there. Then, slowly as to not spook her, you reach out. Your fingertips brush against her lower back and she flinches. But she doesn't pull away, so you press your palm against her back. You step closer and press your lips to her shoulder.

"I don't care if it doesn't fit", you mumble, though it's a lie — you do care. You want to be part of her world, whatever it may be like. "I just want to make this work, Nat."

She takes a moment to reply. Her voice is raw, her breathing ragged. She faces you again, her green eyes filled with something bitter.

"You think you can just fix everything?", she asks. "Just waltz in and make everything better? Because it doesn't work like that."

"I don't want to fix anything", you say quietly. Your other hand touches her waist, and to your surprise, she leans into you. You study her, wary and careful. "I just want to understand."

"You can't understand until you know everything", Natasha says. "And I don't think you want to know everything."

You stare at her, eyes flickering with concern. It's not like your life has been perfect, or that you've been shielded from everything that isn't all sunshine and daisies, but you can't imagine what could possibly be this bad.

"I don't want everything", you say. "I want you."

Natasha goes rigid for a moment. Then she relaxes, muscles loosening and shoulders slumping. Like a cat landing on a stretched out blanket, you catch her. She buries her face in your neck, her body held upright by your arms around her waist. You can feel her breathe you in.

You smell like her.

. . .

The rain is heavy. It soaks through your clothes and leaves the ends of your hair dripping. You barely make it into Natasha's car without slipping.

"You're wet again", she says, handing you a blanket. "No umbrella?"

You wipe the water out of your face and snort. "No. Forgot to grab it."

"Could've gone back inside."

The look you throw at her shuts her up. She starts the car and drives out of the neighborhood. Only the pelting of the rain on the roof fills the silence between you.

You've never been like this with each other. Until now, it was easy. But that's the way it is, right? Things are easy until they aren't anymore.

"Where are we going?", you ask, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders. You lift one corner of it to pat your hair dry.

"Just driving", she mumbles. Her knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road, but you can tell there's more.

You don't say anything. You just lean back and enjoy being the one who gets to play passenger princess, even if your clothes are sticking to your skin. You drive through your favorite part of town — the cute little corner with the bookshop and the park full of flowers —, then Natasha suddenly takes a turn.

You recognize the neighborhood, but she hasn't taken you here before.

"Huh", you mumble, staring out the window. You're slumped into the seat lazily. "New location unlocked?"

"Something like that."

In front of a bed and breakfast, she stops. She unbuckles and gets out, nodding at you to follow her. Despite your confusion, you don't hesitate.

Inside the building, it's warm and quiet. It smells like cookies and flowers; freshly picked ones, sitting on the counter next to the staircase. The steps creak under your feet as you go upstairs.

Natasha fishes another key out of her pocket and unlocks a door. The room that appears in front of you is exactly what you expected — corny grandma-bedsheets on top of a wooden bed, with pictures of cats on the walls and a plush rug.

"I don't understand", you murmur, brushing your hand over little notebook on the desk. It's for the guests to write in. "What is this?"

"I'm staying here", she says, digging through a backpack, "until I leave."

You pause, your eyes flickering up. For some reason, you thought Natasha would always be here. Even after you go back to college. Like a safe place you could retreat to whenever the world becomes too much.

A very selfish thought, but a comforting one nevertheless.

"You...you don't live here", you say slowly, as if realizing it for the first time. Which may or may not be very accurate. "You're leaving. You're leaving?"

"I am."

Your eyes widen as she keeps pulling stuff out of the backpack and putting it aside. A gun. A taser. Some kind of earpiece. Your heart starts rabbiting in your chest, but you force yourself to stay calm.

"Uhm-"

"You said you wanted to know me, didn't you?" She turns around. Her eyes are cold and her walls are up. "This is me. This —" She pulls another weapon, which looks like an odd sort of bracelet, out of her backpack, "this is me. This."

You laugh nervously. Part of you won't believe this is real. It has to be some kind of joke. But Natasha is completely serious.

She wraps the bracelet around her wrist and clicks on it. It tightens around her wrist and lights up. You take a step back and bump against the door. Her eyes meet yours, and for a split second, the facade slips. You see it — a deep, unrelenting sadness, the kind that comes with inevitability, the quiet acceptance of something she knew would happen but hoped never would.

"Does it fit?", she prompts you.

You frown and take a stubborn step closer. You're trying hard not to let it show, but your heartbeat is still racing. "Natasha, don't-"

"You wanted to know who I am", she cuts you off. "This is me."

"I don't care", you plead, stepping closer once more. This time, it's Natasha who takes a step back. "I said I wanted to know you. I still do. I want to know you, whatever that means."

"Y/N", she says quietly. "Nobody wants to know me. I can promise you that."

"I do", you say, stubborn and frantic. "You've been keeping this from me for two months, and I still want to know you."

"I've been keeping it from you for a reason."

She has a point. If she'd pulled out a gun on your first date, you would've bolted.

But now? For some reason, you're still here. Still trying to get her to listen, despite the fact that there are multiple weapons scattered across the floor. Suddenly, the scars on her body make more sense. The bruises, the healed cuts. You've learned to love them. The way you trace them with your lips is proof enough.

But with Natasha, you didn't have to learn. It just happened — one day, you looked at her and loved her.

Even now, you do.

"Why would you do that?", you ask, both baffled and understanding her point. "Why would you keep something like this from me?"

"Because this?" She laughs, her voice tinged with bittersweet regret. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to fall in love, Y/N. Things usually end before I do, anyways. But I fell in love with you."

The words wash over you like waves. For a moment, everything stops — the rain outside, your thoughts, your pulse. All you can do is stare at her, her words echoing in your mind.

"So what?", you suddenly shout, even surprising yourself. "You fall in love and leave because it 'wasn't supposed to happen'? Is that it?"

You breathe heavily, the words burning in your chest. You bite back tears, your jaw clenching.

"We'll just walk away when it's too much?", you continue. You're no longer trying to control your voice, so it keeps rising. "Pretend it never happened?"

"You don't get it", she snaps. "This isn't a fairytale. Fuck, all I wanted was someone to help me take my mind off things."

"And you got that, didn't you?" Full of anger and frustration, you grab the backpack and shove it against her chest. She doesn't falter, even when you keep pushing your fists against her. Your tears and sobs are silent. "You got that damn fling. Now you can leave, huh? Leave everything in pieces!"

She recoils slightly, then she shoves the backpack off her with more force than you expected. It hits the ground with a low thud.

"That's now what this was!", she says, her voice cracking. "You're not just a fling, Y/N. Which is exactly why I need to end this."

"You're not making any sense!"

"I'm not?", she yells. She whips around and grabs her wallet. Suddenly, you've got an ID card in your hand. "Here! Am I making sense now?"

You're too stunned to speak. Your eyes are glued to the card in your hand, rereading the words, trying to understand what's going on.

SHIELD. Field operative. Special agent.

The words swim around in your brain uselessly. You're not sure you've heard of any of this before.

"You...?"

"I'm a spy", Natasha says sharply. She grabs the card and puts it away again, hiding it in her purse. "I'm an assassin."

That does the trick. Every word is wiped from your supply of smartass remarks, your knees seem to buckle for a moment, you go completely quiet. You grab the desk next to you for support, leaning on it.

There's a silent challenge to the way she's looking at you. Chin slightly raised, her eyes filled with an unusual coldness. Her fair skin is even paler than usual.

"An assassin", you repeat, voice cracking.

"Yes", she says, watching you with a mixture of regret and defiance. "Former assassin, but...that doesn't change anything. It's what I am. What I've always been. I'm a trained killer, Y/N."

You stare at her as you try to wrap your head around this. Natasha, the woman you love — the one who kissed your forehead when you were sleepy, who read books to you — is a killer.

"You're a killer", you repeat, as if that'd make it easier to grasp. It doesn't. The words feel bitter on your tongue, strange and foreign.

Natasha doesn't move, doesn't say anything. Her mask falters. What you see now is raw pain.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"You're sorry?" You let out a hollow laugh, but deep down, you want to sob. "How was I supposed to find out, huh? 'Hey, by the way, I killed people'? Fuck, Nat, I...fuck."

She crosses her arms and takes another step back. Her legs bump against the bed. Outside, the rain starts pouring heavily.

"I thought I could keep it separate", she admits, her voice quieter now. You close your eyes at the sound of it and resist pulling her into you like you've done so many times. "That I could pretend I'm someone else when I'm with you."

Your hands ball into fists. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"It didn't work", she continues, softening. "You made me feel more like myself than anyone ever could."

When you open your eyes again, they're glossed over with tears. You exhale slowly, shakily, and force yourself to look at her.

"This isn't fair", you whisper. "It really, really isn't. You don't get to make me fall in love only to do...this."

"I told you", Natasha says quietly, "I didn't plan for this to happen. I just didn't want to be alone."

"Well, there you are." You laugh bitterly and scrub a hand down your face. "All of this just to end up alone again. You happy now?"

"Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did!" You step closer, the anger pulsing through your body. You can feel how warm your face is. "You hurt me. You hurt yourself, too. You screwed up, just admit it!"

"Fine!", she yells. "I screwed up!"

"You did!", you shout. The tears start flowing, hot and damp. Natasha's heart gives a painful twist at the sight. "You screwed up, and you hurt me, and you, and I- I- god, fuck you!"

Her hand reaches out on instinct, but her outstretched fingers never even brush against your arm.

"Don't", you hiss, pushing her hand away. "Don't touch me. Not now."

She pulls back and swallows, her eyes darting away from you.

"I'm sorry", she says.

The words linger in the air. You stand there, trying to slow your breathing. You cover your face with your hands and inhale raggedly. The tears feel warm against your palms.

"This is it?", you ask numbly. "We're done?"

"I'm sorry", she repeats. You shake your head and wipe your face with your hands.

"Fuck you", you repeat. You step away from the door, open it, and slam it shut before Natasha can react.

She stays in the bedroom, frozen in place. Her eyes are glued to the door.

Gone. Gone are two months of whatever it is you two had.

The lake, the diner, the drive-in. Nights spent buried in each other, bodies so close it was unclear where one ended and the other began.

She should feel relief. At least she doesn't have to live a lie anymore — now, you know the truth. You've walked away and she's the one left standing alone. And worst of all?: She deserves it.

The rain continues to pour outside, but inside the room, there is nothing but the quiet of the aftermath.

[killinqpills]

★─── yandere sagau. ii

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

𝕽𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗧 doesn't really go away at all. It's almost like a stain against our skin, and the longer you leave it to fester without wiping it away, the faster it'll seep into your bones. Until eventually, it drips onto your souls and becomes permanent, a haunting reminder of a tragedy you created for yourself.

"why did you do it?"

Venti asked without a thought or anger, an emotion he ironically feels like he's drowning in, but for some reason couldn't express. Perhaps it's because he realizes that he's already shattered, held together only by false hopes and endless what if's, bitterness might as well leave him scattered against the ground like ashes in the winds.

But he didn't know who to be angry at. The easiest answer would've been himself, but his cup of self loathing was already full to the brim, practically overflowing without a sense of direction.

Besides, the blame had always been easier to pin on someone else when we're reluctant to hate ourselves a little more. It's a small mercy we grant our hearts, the fleeting lie that we're still redeemable, with flaws and all.

Venti prays, no matter how selfish it would be, that you'd be returned to his undeserving hands once more, swearing on everything, that he'd cradle you gently this time.

What amusing thought, right? He, a god who his people once prayed to, now kneels on the grounds himself and begs for salvation. Like a lost lamb blindly searching for its shepherd whom it ran away from, desperate to make it back to them.

Back to you.

"why didn't you stop me?"

Zhongli asks him, just as dully.

A question for a question, because neither of them knew the answer to either one. Or perhaps they did, but the weight of the truth was simply far too heavy for them to carry.

He feels everything yet nothing at all.

That's a lie though, there's something unbearably ugly simmering at the very bottom of his heart, on the edge of boiling and spilling all over him like it did all those years ago; despair.

It felt just as heavy as it did when you first left.

Although at that time, you had left on your own, disappearing off of the face of teyvat while those who you've left behind scrambled to keep you alive through their own means. Endless tales were woven through the silks of history, and everyone made sure it'd remain to be one of the few things left unaltered by time.

And now you're gone once more, away and out of his reach and there he was, begging for you to return despite being the one to cause it.

Zhongli might've been many things, but he was not made to be gentle.

He was sharp and pointed to every edge, and although time had done its job to soften his jagged thorns, blades that are blunt and rusted tend to hurt the most.

He's nicked you more than enough times in the past, as the young, prideful god he was, stubborn and violent. Unused to your gentleness in a world that seemed to thrive in conflict, yet still so enraptured of the way you brush off the sting so easily, letting him close despite it all, over and over again.

"I miss them." Venti utters, no more than whisper, something you could almost disregard as a small gush of wind in the night. But the quiet confession would be the loudest thing Zhongli would ever hear in his decades of living.

Grunting, Zhongli looks away, eyes unreadable as he gazes blankly at the sorry excuse of a land that's been left to spread after the false creators death.

. . .

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator.

Gasping, Furina watched horrified as an arrow fused with anemo flew through the air with an almost violent whistling sound, then, a body slumps.

The grating laughter that once infested her ears now is nothing more but a deafening silence, like waiting for the inevitable worst to come, but being unsure of what exactly it is.

"You─.." Ei muttered, stunned.

There, sitting on a golden throne like a looming shadow, once the oddity which called itself the creator, was now nothing more than a corpse with an arrow embedded in their chest. Dark, thick and almost obsidian colored blood oozing out from their wound.

Then, panic struck.

"We.. we've committed a grave sin!"

Once the unnamed man shouted such words, the archons watched as their people scrambled to leave, pushing against the other and screaming their heads off in hysteria.

At lost for words, they could do nothing more but try and fail to calm them down with gestures and soundless pleas because their words simply get lost in a sea of anguished cries.

"T─this can't be!"

"The creator will punish us!"

"No─ no! I did not even want to be a part of this!"

"Please, I don't want to die!"

At that moment, something catches Xiao's eye. Turning his head to the throne, he observes as the corpse bloats ever so slightly, skin rippling as if something wretched was wiggling beneath it, attempting to pierce through the skin, as though it was about to:

"Explode." He gasps in realization.

When a god dies, their divine power is released back into the world, often causing significant environmental changes and disruptions, while their consciousness fades away, effectively marking their death.

"Get away from the throne─!"

His shout echoes above all other voices, effectively catching the other's attention. But by then it was already too late, in horror he watches as the body erupts, causing him to close his eyes on instinct despite knowing that doing so wouldn't shield him from the impact.

...

Zhongli closes his fist, it trembles slightly, aching ever so slightly from overexerting himself to create a shield large enough to prevent anyone it can reach from being exposed to the utter chaos he sees now.

A large patch of land now lay wasted, covered in a dark substance that looks as though it's spreading ever so slightly, like water that spills without end.

Clearly, not everyone had managed to avoid being hit by it. Bodies upon bodies lay in the substance, looking almost as though they're melting into it in a sick and twisted way. The false creators final display of possession over something that was never theirs in the first place.

Your body was in there too.

Swallowing vile down his throat was no easy task this time.

Xiao, who barely managed to escape, stands beside him, head titled down and unable to look at anything or anyone without being overwhelmed with shame and guilt.

Zhongli could not bring himself to comfort him this time, for they're simple two souls drowning in grief, he's unable to keep the other afloat without the threat of being submerged himself. All he could offer now, was a silent apology.

"Is there no way to get rid of it?"

Ei asks, coming up beside them with Yae following suit, the pair walking in sync with heavy expressions on their faces. Venti shrugs, almost bored, but they knew not to take it as that, for this was the bard expressing defeat.

"Let's just hope we find a solution, before it gets rid of us."

He says casually, looking back towards the wreckage, the others following in suit. They watch anxiously as the substance spreads, looking as though it was trying to devour everything in its path, vile and unforgiving, things you never were.

For a moment, Zhongli wonders what would've happened had you not descended as quietly as you did in your mortal body. But unlike Venti, Zhongli was not content with settling on endless what─if's.

Shuffling, Yae notes the way the grass beneath her feet seemed rotten, dried and dead as though they're no longer able to rise with life. Actually, looking around, she realizes that everything seemed awfully.. dead.

Everything looked gloomy, the air was cold and lacked sunlight, the trees wilted and some if not most had already fallen, not a single animal in sight, not even a soft chirp from a distant bird, or a cricket from an insect to be heard.

"At this rate, it doesn't seem like we'll be able to live long enough to see that."

She sighs grimly, and with a quick look around, nobody else could find it in themselves to argue otherwise.

From afar, paimon worriedly gazes at her surroundings, feeling utterly helpless at the outcome of mankind's greatest mistake. Her heart aches as her eyes darts from one place to another, not liking the way everything just seems so devoid of life.

Aether stands near her, observing as well, but instead of despair like many others, his stare was contemplative.

Things have been rather difficult for the last few days, the citizens briefly exposed from the dark substance began falling ill one after the other, and although food and medicine had yet to become scarce, with the rate of natural life beginning to dwindle all across teyvat, everyone knows it'll just be a matter of time before everything starts going downhill.

Not like it hasn't already, though.

"Is. . . is this really it?"

Paimon's voice quivers, tears welling up in her eyes as she floats closer to the traveler for comfort.

Is this how it's gonna end?

There's an unsettling silence that engulfs them for a moment.

"No."

Startled by his sudden words, or rather, word. Paimon whips her head towards Aether, stunned and equally confused at his seemingly unwavering resolve.

"wha─ what do you mean?" She asks hesitantly.

For a moment, Aether refused to answer, perhaps too caught up in his own inner thoughts which were a mess of indecipherable words and unsure possibilities. But then, he opens his mouth.

"A god who willingly died at the hands of their own creation─"

He pauses.

"Do you truly think that such a person who loves more than anything, would allow this to happen?"

Conflict struck Paimon and she feels a sinking pit at the bottom of her stomach. Defeated and ashamed, she lowers her tearful gaze to the ground.

"No, but that kind of mercy.." Her voice trembles, struggling to let the words fall from her tongue.

Aether turns to look at her, a look of grim understanding that she shares being passed between their gazes.

"It's not something we deserve."

Your love, the kindness that flows through your veins, the warmth in your eyes, the pureness of your heart, your nature which remains merciful.

All of which we are undeserving of.

The truth had never tasted so bitter in Aether's tongue before. Somewhere, deep─ deep down, he hopes you are truly dead.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah?? my lazy ass actually made a part 2? surprise.

Anyways this is a lot shorter than I would've liked it to be, but honestly I'm at lost on what to write. Thanks to those who reblogged / commented and stuff, it was a great source of motivation.

Stay tuned for more (maybe)

Taglist : @n0tmentallystable @iris-arcadia @starboye @sims-4lifers

[akawifeyy]

LEMONADE | fic (DR3)

description: as much as he would miss the high-stakes lifestyle of formula 1, daniel ricciardo is ready to start fresh. and the perfect start seems to be in his hometown, where a little girl is running a lemonade stand.

tropes: meet-cute, happy ending, lemonade stand au!, single mum!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mature content (!!), swearing

| note: i love dr3 soooo much y'all, i hope i did him justice 🫶

It all started with the lemonade stand.

A young girl, probably five or six years old, with curly brown braids tied up in pink ribbons, was standing by its side. She stood at attention like a miniature soldier, her eyes watching the street for potential customers.

The hand-painted sign swinging from the top read "Leia's Lemonade Stand" in blocky yellow writing, and a giant beaker of the refreshment was perched on the counter.

Daniel was intrigued. He patted his pockets, looking for any spare change, and found a wad of bills. "Hey," he greeted the little girl, who looked up at him with owlishly large eyes. "I'd like to buy some lemonade? One glass, please."

She beamed, dashing behind the counter to hand him a cool glass filled with sugary yellow liquid. "That'll be two dollars!"

"Here you go," Daniel said, counting out the money and leaving her some extra change, handing it to her. "Thank you for your service."

As Daniel was turning to leave, you walked up to the girl, who was your carbon copy, just a decade or two younger. You were her mother, Daniel assumed. "What do we say, Leia?" you asked, a proud smile evident on your face.

"Thank you and you're welcome!" Leia chirped.

Daniel took a sip of the cool refreshment, sighing in contentment. "This is delicious stuff. Did she make it herself?" he asked you.

"I helped out a bit, but most of this was done herself."

He outstretched his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"Y/N," you replied, taking it. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to formulate an answer. "I just moved back from, uh...out of the country."

"Oh?" you inquired. "I'm jealous, I've never lived outside of Perth. My parents were born here, I was born here, and now Leia was born here. It's tradition, I guess."

He laughed. "Perth is a nice place. The rest of the world is overrated."

"At least you've experienced it," you griped.

Daniel huffed out a breath, reminiscing on his years of fast-paced travel. City after city, country after country. He never stayed in one place for long. "Yeah, I suppose so. Have you really never been outside of Perth?"

You lowered your head, self-conscious. "I mean, I've visited Melbourne for a weekend girl's trip, but my life has been pretty busy ever since I had Leia. And her father...doesn't help out."

Daniel's attention sparked at the mention of Leia's father. "Is he around?"

You twisted your lips in consternation. "He's alive, but he skipped town shortly after Leia was born. Said he was destined for greater things, or some shitty statement like that. I don't remember, and frankly, I do not care. Leia and I get on just fine."

Daniel grinned. "I can tell." He set the glass back down on the counter, and Leia picked it up, putting it under the stand to be washed and cleaned later. "Thanks for the lemonade. Keep up the good work, hm?" he said to her, and she gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"I'll see you around?" you asked, hopefully in a casual tone.

Daniel nodded, giving you a cheesy wink. "Of course."

Two days later

The doorbell rung half past noon, and you checked the peephole to see who was there. Daniel. He was shifting nervously, wringing his hands out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you greeted him, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

"I was wondering if I could get another glass of the lemonade? Leia's done an amazing job with it."

You sighed sorrowfully. "We're all out, sorry. Leia has just started school again, so we haven't continued the business. Maybe we'll make some more during the weekend?"

Daniel pouted. "That blows. I've been looking for a way to talk to you again."

"Sorry." You shrugged one shoulder, and then you realized what Daniel had said. "Pardon me, what did you say?"

Daniel's eyes widened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "Uh, I was hoping to chat with you a bit? If that's alright? I don't want to intrude."

You shook your head, leading him into the living room. A variety of Leia's toys were scattered about, and you bent down to pick them up and move them out of the way. "It's OK, don't worry. My job's remote, so I don't have to leave or anything. Not until two, when Leia comes home from school."

"Great," Daniel said, sitting down on the couch beside you. "I've been bored out of my mind since I've come back to Perth."

You swallowed, not exactly sure of how to respond. "Yeah? Is your past haunting you or something?"

Daniel chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm just used to a lot of hustle-and-bustle, and Perth...isn't really delivering on that."

"Where did you work?" you asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. "Er...I used to be a Formula One driver. I know, wild, but yeah. DR3." He laughed again, but this time it was dry and full of resentment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Formula One? My sister's obsessed with it. Wow, that's really cool."

"Yeah, it is. But they moved on to better talent, and now I'm back here." He slouched down, avoiding your gaze.

You gently nudged his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you've returned and that we've met."

He gave you a wan half-smile.

For another hour, you two chatted away, talking about your past, about Leia, and about your hobbies. You told him about your Star Wars obsession (aka the reason why you'd chosen the name Leia for your daughter), showing him the vintage R2D2 toy you kept on your bookshelf. In return, he told you about how he used to go fishing with his parents in Lake Monger and about some of his F1 exploits.

Eventually, the alarm you set to keep track of when to pick Leia up went off, marking the end of your conversation. "I've got to go," you apologized.

"It's no problem." Daniel waved a hand, brushing you off. "Here's my number in case you want to keep in touch?" He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you said, flustered.

"See you around, Y/N," he said as he stepped out the front door.

Text messages between Daniel and Y/N (Takes place a week to two months after their first meeting)

Sydney, Australia (Two months later)

"Come on, Leia," you urged your daughter as you led her through a thick crowd of people in the airport. "Don't let go of my hand."

Daniel was in front, leading you towards the exit, where a glossy crimson Ferrari was parked. "Here we go." He opened the door for you, sliding beside you and helping to buckle Leia in.

You smiled at him. "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"No problem, darling."

The pet name sent a curl of heat through your core, and you looked out the window so you wouldn't have to respond. The view was stunning: metallic skyscrapers, a bustling city center. You couldn't believe that this was what you were missing out on your whole life.

About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a sleek modern hotel. You saw Daniel's mum wave at you, and swallowed roughly. You prayed that she would like you.

"Leia, be nice," you chastised her before you disembarked from the car. "Use your manners."

Leia bobbed her head up and down. "I know, Mum."

When you walked over, Daniel's mum immediately struck up a conversation with you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm Grace!" she introduced herself. "And this must be little Leia." She bent down to shake Leia's hand. "You look just like her."

"Thanks," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Grace put her hand on her heart. "Danny's told me all about you. I'm happy to see that you're exactly as I hoped."

Your gaze whipped to Daniel, who turned even redder. One more shade, and he could pass for a bearded tomato. "Really?"

"Yep!" Grace clapped Daniel on the back. "He loves you."

You blinked, but didn't blurt anything out. "We should probably head inside."

Daniel nodded fervently. "I agree."

That night

"You want to explain to me what your mum told me?" you probed Daniel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. She's not a good secret keeper."

"Are you saying that she was lying?"

His eyes peeked out from behind his palms. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Tell me the truth," you scolded.

Daniel sighed and took a step closer to you. "She wasn't. Ever since I saw you at that lemonade stand, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You're funny, and strong, and independent. I want to prove to you that I won't be like the other one. I'm here to stay."

Without a second's worth of hesitation, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down to your height, and kissed him. He moaned softly, his arms snaking around your waist and caging you against the wall. "Fuck, Y/N."

The kiss became more passionate as you tangled your fingers in Daniel's brown curls, and his own found the swell of your breasts underneath your shirt. "You're so perfect," he murmured softly. "Can I?"

You nodded, at a loss for words. Daniel lifted your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy pink bra you were wearing. "Fuck, I'm going to come in my pants like a schoolboy right now. My God, you're a fucking work of art."

You unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the waistband of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Daniel picked you up, placing you on the bed. "The door's locked," he assured you when you opened your mouth. "If we're quiet, Leia won't know anything."

"Good," you whispered. "I don't want to traumatize her."

He laughed, and kissed you again on the collarbone. Carefully, he placed your hands above your head and said, "I want to have sex with you. Is that OK?"

"You don't have to ask, Daniel," you rasped.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes, I do. Consent is not a laughing matter, darling."

You expelled a breath in faux-annoyance, and he continued his mission. One slow thrust, and he was in you, filling your pussy and making you groan with pleasure. "Daniel..."

"Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly. "I'll go slower."

You twisted your head to look at him. "No, it's fine. Just...not used to this. It's been a while."

He pecked you on the forehead, his arms caressing the curves of your skin. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He drove into you, the movements firm and sure. Soon, you felt the tidal wave of pleasure build up in you like an insistent hum. "Daniel, I'm going to..." you trailed off, the sentence ending with another moan.

Daniel kissed you on the temple, the touch exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. "Let go for me, darling."

And so you did, the orgasm rippling over you and making you shudder with satisfaction.

He pulled out a moment later, his own orgasm succeeding yours, and he flopped down beside you, one arm wresting you closer to him. "You're stunning."

"When I'm all fucked out?" you teased.

Daniel played with a loose strand of your hair, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yep."

"You're so silly, Daniel," you poked fun at him, tapping his nose twice.

He flicked your nose, and stated the very obvious fact, "But you adore me."

Three weeks later

Daniel clutched the bouquet of tulips in his hand, suddenly nervous. It wasn't the first time he had taken you out on a date. Hell, it wasn't even the second time. Yet each and every time, he was terrified.

You were perfect.

And he was...he was Daniel, the former F1 driver for four teams.

"Thanks for picking me up," you told him as he ushered you to his car. "I really appreciate it."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "No problem, darling."

You sat down, and then readjusted your position, feeling something poking your back. It was a box.

"Not a ring," he promised when he saw your expression. "I wouldn't have you accidentally sit on your engagement ring, darling."

You scowled at him, but popped open the top. A beautiful ruby necklace gleamed up at you, and you let out a gasp.

"It's my mother's. She wanted you to have it," Daniel told you.

"Wow, Daniel. This is...breath-taking." You hugged him.

"Just like you," he flirted, and you rolled your eyes. "It's the truth."

You extricated the necklace from the box and clipped it around your neck. "How does it look?"

"Perfect." He kissed you on the lips, one hand nestled on the crook of your jaw. "And all mine."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[heliosunny]

just read your yandere yomi work and I absolutely love it <3 would like to see some more eventually ! gokurakugai content is really scarce

Ikr, that's why I want to see more works from other authors. But here's one for ya

Yandere!Vampire Yomi x Doctor!Reader

The underground clinic reeked of blood and antiseptic. The patients that came here were the kind who couldn't afford a real doctor, or couldn't risk being seen by one.

Tonight was no different.

You had just finished stitching up a gang member’s stab wound when the door slammed open. A gust of cold night air swept through the room, snuffing out one of the candles. You barely had time to react before a figure stepped inside, dragging something, or someone, behind them.

Your grip tightened around your scalpel. "We're closed."

The intruder didn’t answer immediately. He shoved the half-conscious body onto a cot, his movements slow and deliberate. You barely caught a glimpse of sharp silver hair before his eyes—red, almost glowing, snapped to you.

"You’ll fix him." His voice was smooth, but there was no mistaking it for a request.

You frowned, moving cautiously toward the injured man. He was barely clinging to life, his throat torn open in a vicious wound that made your stomach churn.

It wasn’t a stab wound. It wasn’t even a slash. It was jagged, like something had ripped into him.

Your gaze flickered back to the man who brought him in. He didn’t seem concerned. If anything, he looked amused.

"You want him alive?" you asked, forcing your voice to stay even.

"Don’t care," he said lazily, sliding onto the edge of a counter like he had all the time in the world. "I just want to see what you do."

Who was this guy?

Still, you didn’t have the luxury of refusing. If this was some gang business, you didn’t want to get involved more than necessary. You moved quickly, grabbing supplies and getting to work. The man on the cot was barely responsive, but you were skilled, you could keep him alive if you worked fast enough.

The stranger watched.

Not just watched, studied you. His eyes trailed your movements, sharp and calculating, as if peeling apart every action, every breath you took. It was unsettling, but you ignored it, focusing on your work.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Finally, you tied off the last suture, wiping your bloody hands on a cloth. "He’ll live. Barely.

He gave you an applause.

You turned, scowling. "You find this funny?"

"No. I find you interesting."

He slid off the counter and took a step toward you. "What’s your name?"

You didn’t answer.

His smirk widened. "No need to be scared, doc. I just came to repay a debt."

You barely had time to process the words before he moved—too fast, too inhuman. Cold fingers curled around your chin, tilting your head up as his red eyes bore into yours.

"You saved someone important to me" he murmured. "That means you just became important to me, too."

Your pulse spiked. "I don’t need your gratitude."

"Oh?" His lips curled at the edges. "That’s a shame. Because now I’ve decided—"

He leaned in, breath ghosting against your ear.

"You belong to me."

-----

The next morning, you tried to convince yourself that last night had been a fluke. A strange, terrifying encounter, but one that would pass. People came and went in the underground clinic all the time. That man, Yomi, would forget about you and move on.

You almost believed it.

Until you stepped outside.

The street was too quiet. Usually, the morning rush of the lower districts was loud with merchants, pickpockets, and gangs moving in the alleys. But today? Empty. As if the city itself was holding its breath.

Something was wrong.

Then, just as you turned the corner

“Oh, doc. There you are.”

Your heart nearly stopped.

Yomi leaned lazily against a wall, silver hair catching the morning light, his usual smirk tugging at his lips. It was like he had been waiting for you.

Your grip tightened around the strap of your bag. “What do you want?”

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer at a leisurely pace. “Now, that’s a cold greeting. I thought we were acquainted now.”

You took a step back. He took another forward.

“Why are you here?”

His gaze flickered to the rooftops. A barely shift in his posture.

You turned sharply.

Two men lay sprawled across the alleyway. Unmoving. Blood pooled beneath their bodies, soaking into the cracks between the bricks.

You knew them. They were known for running extortion schemes—shaking down local businesses, especially ones that didn’t pay for protection.

Your protection.

“You—” Your voice caught in your throat. “Did you just...?”

Yomi hummed, tilting his head in mock curiosity. “Did I what?”

Your mouth went dry. “They were just petty criminals.”

“Petty criminals” he repeated, amused. “Petty criminals who had your clinic marked for their next round of fun.”

“That’s not your problem.”

Yomi sighed, shaking his head like you were missing something obvious. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Before you could move, he was in front of you. You barely had time to react before his fingers curled around your wrist, his grip deceptively light.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, almost fondly. “That means I handle problems before they reach you.”

“You don’t own me.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “No? Then tell me, doc…”

He leaned in, lips close to your ear.

“Why do you look so afraid to walk away?”

You weren’t stupid. You knew that the moment you turned your back, he’d prove just how real his claim was. He’d already killed for you.

“Come on” Yomi murmured, his grip tightening slightly. “Let’s get breakfast. You’ll feel better after a warm meal.”

You had no choice but to follow.

-----

Yomi was clever. He didn’t drag you. He didn’t threaten you. He just smiled.

Led you through the streets at a casual pace, his grip on your wrist loose but present, as if daring you to pull away.

If you refused him, he wouldn’t get angry. He wouldn’t lash out.

He would simply remove whatever, or whoever stood in his way.

So you walked.

The city was waking up now, the eerie quiet fading into the usual morning bustle.

It felt so normal that you almost forgot who was beside you.

He guided you- gently, like a lover into a small teahouse at the edge of the district.

A woman behind the counter looked up, eyes widening at the sight of Yomi before she quickly turned and vanished into the back.

Fear. You saw it in her eyes.

Just who was he to make people react like that?

Yomi chose a table by the window, gesturing for you to sit. You hesitated a second too long.

His fingers brushed your lower back “Sit” he said, voice soft.

You sat.

A moment later, tea and a full meal appeared before you. Sliced meat over warm rice, crisp vegetables, and a perfectly golden egg.

Your stomach growled.

You cursed under your breath.

Yomi’s smirk was immediate. “Go on,” he murmured, resting his chin on his palm. “You need to keep your strength up.”

You picked up your chopsticks and took a bite.

Yomi watched you with amusement, swirling his tea before taking a slow sip. He hadn’t touched his food at all.

The silence stretched.

“Why are you doing this?” You finally set down your chopsticks.

He raised a brow. “What? Feeding you?”

“Following me” you snapped. “Acting like...like I’m yours.”

Yomi’s smile didn’t fade, but something in his eyes sharpened.

“You really don’t understand, do you?” he mused. “That’s alright. You’ll learn soon enough.”

Your fingers curled into fists beneath the table. “I don’t need you.”

Yomi chuckled. “No, doc. You don’t have a choice.”

He reached forward, plucking a stray grain of rice from the corner of your mouth with his hand.

His eyes flickered with something unreadable as he brought his finger to his lips, slowly, deliberately—before licking it off.

He grinned, fangs glinting in the morning light.

“Keep eating,” he murmured. “You’ll need your energy for later.”

For what?

You didn’t dare ask.

But something told you that whatever came next

It wouldn’t be pleasant.

-----

If Yomi wanted you to be afraid, he was going to be disappointed.

You weren’t a fool, you knew you had no real way of escaping him. But if he thought you were going to willingly play into whatever twisted game he had planned, he had another thing coming.

So you tested him.

Little things at first.

You let your chopsticks clatter against the plate a little too loudly. You wiped your mouth with the sleeve of your coat instead of the napkin he so graciously provided. You stared at him with barely concealed irritation.

None of it worked.

He took everything in stride, smirking at you like a cat watching a mouse throw a tantrum.

So you pushed further.

When he reached for your tea to refill it, you “accidentally” knocked the pot over, spilling hot liquid across his hand.

“Oops” you said flatly.

For the first time, Yomi’s smirk faltered.

It was brief, so brief you might have imagined it.

“Hah,” he chuckled, shaking the scalding tea from his fingers. “That one had a little bite to it, doc.”

You had hoped for a crack in his demeanor, some sign that you could actually get under his skin. Instead, he looked… amused.

Still, your petty victory was short-lived.

Because when he moved, it wasn’t to retaliate.

It was to stand up and leave the shop.

Had he actually given up?

Then you noticed the way he flexed his hand, the faint hint of red where the tea had burned him.

Guilt pricked at your chest before you could stop it.

Damn it.

You shoved back your chair and followed him outside. “Wait.”

Yomi paused but didn’t turn. “Yes?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Let me bandage it.”

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly. Something in his eyes glowed with interest.

“You hurt me on purpose” he pointed out.

You crossed your arms. “And now I’m fixing it.”

For a moment, he just looked at you.

Then—he held out his hand.

You took it before you could second-guess yourself, pulling him toward a nearby alley for privacy. The streets were too crowded now, and the last thing you needed was an audience.

Digging into your bag, you pulled out a small roll of bandages. You had done this a thousand times before—clean, wrap, secure.

But as soon as your fingers brushed against his skin, you realized the redness was already fading.

Within seconds, his skin knitted itself back together, smooth and unblemished as if it had never been burned at all.

Your breath hitched. “What the hell—”

Yomi tilted his head, watching your reaction “Fascinating, isn’t it?”

You swallowed hard. “That’s not normal.”

His lips curved. “Neither am I.”

You knew he was dangerous, but this? This was something else.

“You look surprised,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist. “Did you really think I’d be so… fragile?”

Your throat was dry. “Let go.”

Instead of answering, he lifted your hand—until your palm was level with his lips.

His tongue flicked out, tracing along the faint cut where you had nicked yourself earlier while treating his burn.

You jolted, a sharp gasp escaping before you could stop it.

Then—pain. The sharp, precise, piercing kind.

“Ah—!”

Fangs sank into your wrist, not deep enough to maim, but enough to send a shock of sensation straight through your body.

Yomi groaned softly against your wrist, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still.

“You taste better than I expected” he murmured against your skin. “Sweeter.”

Your knees nearly buckled. “Let—go—”

His fangs retracted, lips lingering against your pulse as if considering whether to take another bite.

Then—he sighed, releasing your wrist with an almost regretful expression.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps.

Yomi licked the last trace of crimson from his lips and grinned.

“Now we’re even” he murmured.

You had to get away from him.

Before he decided you were his favorite meal.

You ran.

The second Yomi let go of your wrist, you twisted away, shoving him back with all your strength before bolting down the alley.

You didn’t care where you were going, only that you had to get away.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, drowning out the city’s noise. Your legs burned as you weaved through narrow streets, turning blindly at every corner, hoping that you could lose him.

“Tsk.”

Before you could react, something cold snaked around your waist—an arm, firm and unyielding, yanking you back against a solid chest.

“That wasn’t very nice, doc” Yomi murmured against your ear.

Panic surged through you as you struggled, kicking and twisting in his grip. “Let go!”

He sighed, as if you were being difficult on purpose. “Did you really think you could run from me?”

You gasped as his grip tightened “You—”. You sucked in a breath, heart hammering. “You’re fast.”

Yomi laughed, the sound rich with amusement. “Of course I am.”

He knocked you out. One second, you were in the alley, the next, you were somewhere else entirely.

A rooftop.

You stumbled, barely catching yourself before you fell. Wind rushed past, carrying the scent of incense and distant food stalls. The city stretched below, too high to jump, too exposed to hide.

You turned to face him. “What do you want from me?”

Yomi regarded you with something almost fond, head tilted as if considering his next words.

“I already told you,” he said simply. “I want you.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Why?”

Yomi stepped closer, so you stepped back—but there was nowhere to go.

“Because,” he murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, “you belong to me now.”

Your breath hitched. “I don’t—”

“Shh.” His finger pressed lightly against your lips. “Don’t fight it, doc. You’ll only make this harder on yourself.”

“You can’t keep me here.”

His smile deepened. “Can’t I?”

Before you could move, his hand gripped your chin, gently, but with an unmistakable warning.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your lower lip. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

You trembled. “You’re insane.”

Yomi chuckled, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. “Maybe.”

Then, his fangs grazed your throat.

“But you’re never leaving me, doc.”

You had run. You had fought.

And it still wasn’t enough.

Yomi had won.

And there was no way out.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

I guess only those the reader loves and trusts completely can touch his hair.

Yes, so true. If a reader lets you touch their hair, it's a form of love, trust, and bonding. The only person who got to touch the reader's hair was Alfred because he really cared for the reader and always wanted to help them with their hair. But let's be honest, he doesn't know a thing about curls, but he's willing to try. Since you're the Batfam's new obsession, they'll make it a mission to get your guard down and touch, ruffle, and twirl their fingers around your curls and dreadlocks. They treat you like a cat, really, but just like a cat, you refuse to let them touch you or your hair. But sometimes you get vulnerable and need to ask for help. What do you do? You swallow your pride and deal with the shame later.

"Hey Bruce, could you tie my hair back for me? For some reason, they don't want to cooperate today," you sighed, looking up at the tall man. Nothing ever shocked Batman—hell, nothing ever shocked Bruce Wayne—but this was shocking. When your middle child, who avoids you like the plague, asks you for help, he tries not to act ecstatic.

"Sure, of course, come here, sit." He didn't even bother to turn off his laptop. Sure, he was scheduling an important meeting, but this was more important. You never asked for help; you could be holding the whole world on your shoulders, and you still wouldn't ask for help. You sat on his knee, and you started to feel like a child once again, letting his calloused fingers run through your dreads. For a man so busy beating up bad guys, he could be very gentle.

"Your hair is getting longer," he muttered.

"It's reaching your shoulders," he continued.

"Yeah, I know." You answered fast.

You let your old man tie your hair back, and to him it looked like black licorice. But if he we're to say that out loud, you probably hit him.

"You know, if you ever need my help with your hair, I'll be happy to. I mean, I've never done hair like yours before, but I could learn and try," he started to ramble, and you really want him to shut up.

"It's fine; I already have a hair appointment," you started to step out of the living room.

"And thanks or whatever..." you huffed. Deep down, you wanted to cry; this was the first time your father felt like a father.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sometimes I think about Harry being sent back to his relatives after his 4th and 5th year, and I lose my mind a little. It's bad enough he's sent back at all, but these two summers especially. Like how are you looking at this traumatised, grieving kid, who has been tortured and lived through some truly horrible events, and think taking him to people who hate his very existence is a good idea??? And no adult checks on him in person. They're watching him post gof sure, but no one actually speaks to him. No one tell him anything outside a few cryptic messages, he's left hurt and isolated. It's just crazy to me.

(Crazier that some people complain about Harry's behaviour in ootp. He's mild, all things considered)

I know!

Like, I don't know what Dumbledore was smoking, honestly... like, even if we're being generous in our interpretation of his actions and say Harry really needed to spend some time with Petunia every summer to keep his blood protection going (personally, I don't think it's the case, but I'm being generous), he doesn't need to spend the whole summer there. Like, he could stay there for one afternoon, one day, a week, maybe, max? Why does he need to stay there longer? Why between GoF and OotP Dumbledore plan for him to stay at the Dursleys the whole summer when Grimmauld Place was probably safer?

But, like, after OotP, at least the plan was for Harry to only stay with the Dursleys for a bit, even if longer than I would have left him there (which is none at all), but the concept of just spending there enough time so he could refresh the blood protections before going to the Weasleys is decent, like, I can understand that. Dumbledore came to pick him up on June 12th, a bit later than I would like, but he still spends most of the summer and his birthday with the Weasleys.

What I don't understand is leaving him completely cut off from everyone who cares about him and from all information about the Wizarding World (aside from Daily Prophet propaganda) after Voldemort returned, murdered Cedric in front of Harry, and tortured Harry. Like, what the hell?

I can't fathom how he could think this is a good idea. Like, at all. Between OotP and HBP, I get it assuming the blood protection really works like that or he believes it does, but the summer between GoF and OotP is near unforgivable, man.

I mean, I recently reread the graveyard scene for my fic and that was horrifying. Like, every time I reread it I am horrified anew at what happened there and what Harry went through... just, that whole scene is a lot (and maybe I'll do like a little rundown of it, since I feel like it needs talking about), and, like, damn, you're right that Harry's response is mild compared to how it could've been in OotP.

OotP Harry will always be one of my favorite Harrys (I love him in all the books) and I will forever stand behind his anger being a trauma response and that he isn't actually hot-headed. OotP was Harry reaching his limit, and boy, did it take a lot to get him to his limit. I mean, he's the opposite of a hothead considering just how much he had to suffer to reach his boiling point. I talked about his trauma responses here and his anger in particular here.

[overthinkit-underscore]

THE NARRATOR - You close your eyes, and for a moment, it feels like you're a part of the whole world, and the whole world is a part of you.

this might be the only time in all of Slay the Princess that the Long Quiet isn't likened to "Nothing at all." and it comes from the Narrator, during Apotheosis, when the Long Quiet has already picked up the Pristine Blade. it's simultaneously a pep talk and corrosive manipulation from a delusional man to a sapient entity he only views as the blade they're holding- it's conditional belief, conditional support, conditional love.

(Explore) "I chose to make Her a princess? Why couldn't I have made things easier on myself and picked something small or weak like an ant or a slice of bread?"

THE NARRATOR - Are you asking me to spend my last moments psychoanalyzing you? Sigh. Whatever you viewed her as needed to map on some level to what she was. You couldn't just pick something arbitrary and beneath you. I don't know why you settled on a princess, specifically, but clearly a princess is what you wanted. Maybe she needed to be beautiful. Important. Above you, but on a level you could still approach. A herald of things to come. I don't know. Gods are supposed to be beyond comprehension. I really shouldn't try and anthropomorphize you like this.

That final line is part of why the Narrator treats the Long Quiet so horribly and coldly throughout the game. He fundamentally only sees It and Shifty as the abstract concepts They are. He sees Quiet as a tool, a living weapon He forged for one sole purpose: to slay the Princess. He sees Himself (and all mortal, "real" living beings) as "more important" than It. That's partial narcissism and partial dehumanization on His part.

(Explore) "If you made us, then I want you to know this has been torture."

THE NARRATOR - The inevitability of death is torture. I would gladly put two infinite beings through what you've been through to spare infinite lives from oblivion.

He treats The Long Quiet "poorly" for the same reason you'd be upset at, say, a pesticide for inviting a biblical-scale locust storm to your house, or a car for deciding to take you to Mordor instead of the library down the street. ...It's just in this case, both the pesticide and the locust storm are fully sapient, if eldritch, beings capable of suffering.

and that's why moments like His Echoes have in Happily Ever After are so gut-wrenching,

- I'm happy, I promise! We're both so, so happy here, you don't have to be upset! THE NARRATOR - This is… awful. [...] THE NARRATOR - This is the end for me, but not for you. I hope this was worth it. Genuinely, I do.

because He feels empathy, here. He recognizes their sapience and what the cost of his dream truly is. He's regretting what He's done to put them both through this, but ultimately, no amount of primer for Mr. Amnesiac will ever let Him see this way ever again. one reality among trillions where we He was "delusional" --- one reality among trillions where He cared.

TLQ technically has daddy issues if you think about it

[angelsdean]

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

hey so can I have Kurt x reader where neither has said I love you yet and they’re just spending time together, enjoying each other’s company and s/o actually springs on him “I love you” in german? He never taught s/o that.

~Sweet How The Words Slip~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: not a single one this is so cute

Genre: fluff

Summary: As it turns out, you're in love with your boyfriend, and now you have to tell him.

A/N: Thank you for each and every one of your requests <3

***

Jean and Storm are sitting on your bed while you clean your bedroom. You'd asked them to sit with you so you could actually get some stuff done.

"We're happy to be here while you do your chores or whatever but you have to spill." Jean says.

"Spill what?" You ask.

"I think she's talking about you and Wagner." Storm chuckles.

"Of course I am. They spend so much time together I'm surprised he's not hiding in her closet right now. I was starting to think we'd have to surgically remove him to ever get her alone again." Jean says and even though you're not looking at your you can feel her eyes roll.

"Surgically remove him?" You scoff out a laugh as you toss an old dress you never wear hiding in the back of your closet.

"Well yeah he never leaves you alone." She says.

"Alright don't talk about him like a pest he's- welcome. He 'never leaves me alone' because I don't want him to. I enjoy being around him as much as I assume he enjoys being around me." You shrug.

"Ah the honeymoon phase. Everything is sweet and perfect and the world revolves around nothing but your love." Storm teases.

"I didn't say any of that?" You frown.

"Everything isn't sweet and perfect?" She asks flatly.

"Well not perfect! Kurt is incredibly sweet so that's not really relationship specific but we're not perfect!"

"Girl who are you tryna fool?" Storm scoffs.

"It's fine if things are perfect. You're still so fresh I find it hard to believe you're already fighting." Jean says.

"We're not fighting." You shake your head.

"Of course you're not. He's obsessed with you." Storm says.

"Obsessed is a stretch I feel like." You say.

"It's not. He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky." Jean smiles.

"You guys are being ridiculous."

"So you're telling me he's not already planning the rest of your lives together?" Storm asks.

"Don't... get ahead of yourself Storm we've only been partners for a few months now." You say.

"We know it's on the horizon." Storm says.

"Yeah he's already made it clear how head over heels in love with you he is." Jean says.

"Girl what are you talking about?" You shake your head.

"What?" Her eyes widen. Even Storm shifts, sitting up in her surprise.

"What?" You ask

"The guy's been into you almost as long as he's been an X-man and you're telling us he hasn't said 'I love you' yet?" Jean gasps.

"Why are you freaking out? We haven't been seeing each other that long."

"It took him less than 6 weeks to make you his girlfriend after he finally asked you out, he had a crush on you for years before that and you don't think it's I dunno surprising that he's not said 'I love you' already?" Jean asks.

"No, I don't find it surprising. He's probably trying not to freak me out."

"What?" Storm asks.

"I dunno I'm sure he's getting advice from Logan or Scott and they probably told him it'd be unhinged to say I love you in the first 30 days of a relationship and now he's paranoid about saying it too soon. What if I don't say it back?"

"Would you?" Jean asks.

"Would I what?" You ask.

"If Kurt came in here and said 'I love you' would you say it back?" She clarifies.

"Yeah I think I would." You nod.

"You think?" Storm asks.

"Well I've never really vocalized it, but since you've asked and I'm actually considering it saying it back feels right."

"You gonna let him know that?" She chuckles.

"Sure! At some point, but it's not like he doesn't already know I care about him." You shrug.

"But that's not always the same thing." Jean shakes her head.

"What?" You frown.

"It's very squares rectangles. Of course you care about the people you love but you can care about people without loving them too. Especially as a superhero, you care about most people, but you don't love all of them. You love him, and caring about him is nice but he'd be foolish to assume that it implies the other thing here." Storm says.

"You have to tell him how you feel, it's important that he knows how deeply you feel because I'm sure he's probably terrified he likes you more than you like him and that's-"

"Okay Jean stop. I get your point. I'll tell him that I love him just- chill out."

"Chill out?! You just realized you love your boyfriend and you weren't even going to tell him."

"Okay well in my defense if we hadn't had this conversation I probably wouldn't have had that realization today so- there'd be nothing to tell for a while maybe." You say.

"But now there is something to tell!"

"I know, I know! I'm gonna tell him, calm down."

"You better or else."

"I get it, you're invested, no need to threaten me." You scoff.

There's a knock on your door that pulls all of your attention to it.

"Come in!" You say.

"Hello liebling- oh are you busy? I didn't know Storm and Jean were here." Kurt smiles peaking his head through your door.

"Not busy! I was just cleaning and the girls are here to help me stay on task." You smile at him.

"Are we still on for movie night later?" Kurt asks.

"Of course. Did you pick a film yet?"

"I did. I hope you like the choice."

"I will. Anything's great if we're watching it together." You say.

"Agreed. Snacks?"

"I'm on it. See you in a few hours."

"Can't wait." Kurt says and slips back out.

"Wow that was so freaking cute!" Jean gushes.

"Oh man I almost said it just then." You gasp.

"What?" Storm asks.

"Just then, before he left? I wanted to say 'I love you', had to catch myself."

"Awwwww! Ugh I'm so jealous." Jean sighs.

"Wow, you really are just so into each other." Storm muses.

"Yeah, I guess."

"It's cute, don't get all shy now." Storm smiles.

"I will kick y'all out if you don't quit it."

"Fine, fine. We'll stop." Jean throws her hands up in surrender.

"Thank you. Sheesh." You shake your head.

You spend another couple of hours on your chores, talking about any and everything, besides your relationship with Kurt. Eventually though, you do need to meet him for movie night so you shoo your friends out.

Something you've been doing passively and in secret is learning German. When Kurt talks to himself it's always in German and while he's never expressed that he struggles with English, he's clearly more comfortable in the former. You figure you could kill two birds with one stone here, confess your love for him and surprise him with a bit of your new skill.

The movie Kurt picked is one you've seen before, but he seemed so excited to see it that you wouldn't tell him that. Plus you like the movie, so you don't mind watching it again. You're nearing the end of the film and part of you is getting a bit nervous. You told yourself you'd confess tonight because you can't imagine holding onto this information. I mean, you knew for 5 minutes and you almost told him. You are not equipped to keep this a secret from him.

"Wow- that was such a good movie! Did you enjoy it?" Kurt asks looking at you.

"It's a great movie. I really liked it." You nod.

"We should watch another. Do you have one that you'd like to watch? Or rewatch maybe?"

"Kurt?"

"Yes liebling?" Kurt's eyes widen, he's giving you his full attention. You bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek as you look at him just as intensely as he's looking at you.

"Ich liebe dich." You say. "You love me?" He whispers. "I do." You nod, smiling at him softly. Kurt jolts back, blinking wildly. "Wait sorry I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you say that in-"

"Ich liebe dich." You repeat. Kurt lets out a soft sound as the disbelief on his face melts into a smile. His eyes are so gentle, so full of emotion that they're glistening, it's almost cartoonish and under different circumstances you might've giggled.

"You- you learned to say it in German?" Kurt sounds so light, just barely above a whisper.

"Ich unterrichte es selbst." You say just as softly back. You're teaching yourself. That's what you told him.

"I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me?" Kurt smiles.

"I wanted to surprise you." You tell him.

"Oh I'm surprised alright." He chuckles.

"I love you." You say grinning.

"I love you too." He says back and you gasp.

"You do?" You were fully prepared to not hear it back tonight.

"Of course, more than anything."

"I'm really happy." You practically sigh.

"As am I." Kurt wraps his arms around you tightly and there's literally nowhere else you'd rather be than here.

***

[aversiteespabilas]

HERE IT IS!! THE LONG-AWAITED RRCU MASTERPOST!!!

WHAT is the RRCU, exactly?

The Rise Rabbit Cinematic Universe is a series of derivative fanworks featuring original characters inspired by Stan Sakai's Usagi Yojimbo comics and the spinoff show Samurai Rabbit, with lore and events set in the canonical world of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It was created by myself (@aversiteespabilas) and @rhinocio, together with my best friend Iggy (@r3xcorvus) contributing with their own characters and plot and acting as writing consultant for the rabbits. If you know Stan Sakai's characters, you may find some things familiar, but ultimately, these are completely original characters with original storylines. It started with Rhin and I playing with the concept of our distinct versions of Rise!Usagi being estranged family, and it's now become a rich world of stories and characters that we really feel is worth sharing. Enjoy the ride!

Is this a Rise AU (Alternative Universe)?

Technically, no. RRCU stories are written on the assumption that everything that happens on the ROTTMNT canon does happen exactly as is. We're not working with alternate dimensions either, as the Usagi family are yokai, just like any other in the Hidden City. This is rather a Rise spin-off, focusing on original characters, how the yokai world or Ikai works, and our take on Hidden Japan. It's not an alternate universe, the rabbits are just busy doing their own stuff. However, we do have different alternative timelines or AUs within the RRCU. I'll get to that.

Are they like, dragon riders?

They are, thank you for noticing! I take great pride in that idea 'cause it's allowed me to do a lot of cool stuff. In the RRCU, tokage are large winged lizards, and the characters can ride them! Yuki's best friend Spot is also a loyal flying mount who carries him to adventure.

What's with the amount of rabbits? Seriously, there are SO many.

Well, this is about the Usagi Family. Several generations of them, in fact. We have a wide array of characters we write about or draw artwork for, young and old, living and deceased. At its core, the RRCU is about family, overcoming generational trauma, dealing with your heritage, and reconnecting with those you love.

Okay, but who is dating Leonardo Ninjaturtle, exactly?

Sometimes a rabbit. Sometimes a different rabbit. Sometimes, not a rabbit. Bottom line: It's not about Leo, though he does cameo and romantically feature in some of the fics. When we started merging our concepts of Usagi, Rhin and I already had plenty of canonical work written that featured Leo getting romantically involved with our respective Usagis. As a result of that, we decided each of us would take care of a different timeline or AU based mostly on who Leo is dating. Most of the time, in my own work, Leonardo will be dating Yuki. In Rhin's work, Leonardo might be dating Yusuke (in Rise's apocalyptic future) or perhaps a loveable human named Juan. Or perhaps nobody in particular.

Why are there fics in spanish in the Yuki Usagi (ROTTMNT) ao3 tag? Why do Yuki-focused fics reference stuff that hasn't been published before?

That is because I am spanish, and because before my fic journey, Yuki's story was developed in private (spanish) roleplay. That is why in Yuki's fics, I am assuming Leo and him are already friends, but in Run O' The Mill Rabbit I did my best to retroactively explain the events that led to their friendship regardless.

He's the young heir to the Usagi Family, and that comes with a massive amount of pressure that he's always been able to take in stride, in spite of his hearing disability. With unwavering confidence, commitment to Bushido, and a penchant for silliness, Yuki is always ready to take on any challenge. As an Usagi, though, his greatest challenge may actually be admitting when he's having real trouble, and letting others help him instead.

He's the Usagi Family's long-lost son, Tetsuya's 20-years-younger brother, and Yuki's forgotten uncle. After struggling to meet his samurai family's very strict expectations throughout his childhood, he travelled to America in search of purpose, and accidentally got Mariko pregnant instead. Since then, he's been forced to cut ties with the Usagi and has become radio silent. Weighed down by his shame and used to constantly running away, his only anchors are his son Jotaro and his very dear friends Mariko and Kenichi; yet, he still refuses to truly face the people he loves.

He's Yuki's father and Yusuke's 20-years-older brother. As the Usagi Family Head, his duty has always been preserving the family's dwindling reputation, ensuring traditions and protocol are followed, and being in charge of absolute perfection. However, this mindset has historically not made his family... like him very much, as hard as that is to believe. After his wife's passing and both his little brother and son running off to America, his loneliness has led to regrettable events that are forcing him to accept that he might not be all that perfect himself, either.

She was Tetsuya's first wife and Yuki's mother, before her unfortunate death in the line of duty. She was the lightheartedness and sweetness to Tetsuya's inflexible demeanor, and Tetsuya was a safety line for her more impulsive and daring traits. She had affinity for a very powerful mystic sword that her son Yuki inherited.

She's a hare, and Tetsuya's second wife. A ninja and skilled assassin sent to kill the Usagi Family Head, who eventually decided none of that ninja stuff was worth it anyway. She is supremely chill about everything, in ways the Usagi are still getting used to.

He's Tetsuya and Toshiko's son, which makes him Yuki's baby brother, and a hare-rabbit hybrid yokai. We are sure he will not grow into a troublemaker or anything.

He's Yusuke's very american best friend (though he himself would prefer a different appellative), Mariko's husband, and the dad who stepped up. His love for his own pack is fierce to a fault, so his distaste for the Usagi and everything they stand for often feels more personal than warranted.

She's Kenichi's wife, Jota's mom, and formerly (though she herself would prefer it were currently) Yusuke's date. Also coming from a high-standing family that kept clipping her wings, Mari's gone with a totally different coping mechanism from Yusuke's, and has adopted the Fun, Cool Mom label for herself. She will not be made to choose who she's allowed to love, or how intensely. Not anymore.

He's Yusuke, Mariko, and Kenichi's wonderful son, and he was named Jotaro first, okay? Tetsuya just never even knew it. Although his parents have done their best to keep him away from their own complicated family issues, Jota has become a very emotionally intelligent and mature child regardless, and gets frustrated when they insist on babying him.

She's Keiko's older sister, and Yuki's beloved aunt. Multifaceted, a bit eccentric, and the family's first polyglot, she's constantly learning new skills, and will support and encourage openness of mind in the Usagi as well, though she's not interested in courtly life at all. She was the one to teach Yuki english, and they also learned japanese sign language together, which has led to the two of them having a very deep connection. He often asks and accepts help from her in a way he's never had with anyone, not even his own parents.

He's a young eagle yokai raised under Bishop's orders and yokai fear-mongering. He would eventually become Mikey's best friend, and, as he unlearns his misguided beliefs and opens up to others, he occasionally stumbles upon the Usagi, who are keen to adopt angry street rats like him.

Would you like to learn how I draw our characters?

I'm currently working on a series of RRCU character design notes, so check that out!

Banner art by @rhinocio

This is not an exhaustive list of RRCU fics! There are more works in the series that won't be featured here. This space is meant to showcase the fics I personally think are most relevant and essential to understand the rabbit characters, their lore and main storyline.

Find the entire RRCU fic series HERE!!

After a mysterious alien invasion has destroyed New York City, Usagi Yuki's trip to meet his american friend Leo becomes a trip to help the denizens of New York instead.

Category: Gen

Setting: Post-ROTTMNT Movie canon

Status: Completed

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Chapters: 7

Characters featured: Yuki-centric. Also features Sakiko, Tetsuya, Keiko, and (briefly) Toshiko and Jojo.

Why read this one?: This is probably the best introduction to the RRCU if you're already a fan of Rise and want to see an interesting take on teen Usagi. It features a bunch of familiar secondary characters and settings from Rise.

Famed samurai Usagi Tetsuya's wife just passed, and he is left to live alone with a teenaged boy and the guilt of their estranged family. As the eldest daughter of her clan of assassins, Toshiko is expected to succeed her mother and earn her place as mistress of the clan. However, she must first complete one last mission: kill the head of the Usagi family.

Category: F/M

Setting: Hidden Tokyo, spanning from the time leading to the Shredder's awakening to some time after the ROTTMNT movie canon.

Status: Work In Progress

Rating: Mature

Chapters: 4/9

Characters featured: Tetsuya and Toshiko-centric. Also features Yuki, Keiko, Yusuke, Sakiko and baby Jojo.

Why read this one?: If you're interested in Tetsuya's side of the story, and/or would like to delve into a fully original Hidden City, and/or are into a POV-switching romance story between older characters with terrible secrets, this is the one for you.

Usagi Yusuke is the second son of Hidden Tokyo's Usagi Clan. He is a mediocre, masterless samurai-in-training. He is also, abruptly, a father. The last of those, according to his elder brother, is a shameful thing. The last of those, in Yusuke's opinion, makes the former unimportant. He will do what he must to provide for his son, even if that means moving half a world away and cutting ties with his family entirely. Of course, just because he has loved and let go does not mean his nephew has the same intention.

Banner art by @rhinocio

Category: Multi

Setting: Post-ROTTMNT Movie canon, alternating with Hidden Tokyo flashback chapters.

Status: Work In Progress

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Chapters: 21/46

Characters featured: Yusuke-centric. Also heavily features every other rabbit character.

Why read this one?: If you're looking to understand why the Usagi Family is the way it is, the nature of all their issues and exactly how they get through them as a family, this is the one fic you should check out. It is also my most favorite one, personally.

It’s not like him. Not like either of them, rushing into a game without joking about it first. They’ve got an established back and forth, and they've been using it for years: Leonardo’s the Rebel Leader who teases like he means something, Usagi’s the Bodyguard who humours him, and nothing they say ever goes anywhere.

Banner art by @rhinocio

Category: M/M

Setting: ROTTMNT Apocalypse timeline.

Status: Work In Progress

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 12/21

Characters featured: Leo and Yusuke-centric. I will update this section if more RRCU characters are featured.

Why read this one?: Those of you looking for leosagi smut that's mature and has an Usagi with an interesting backstory should absolutely check this one out. This is also a peek into what Yusuke is like in the Krang-dominated apocalypse, where he never gets a chance to face his many issues.

Banner art by @rhinocio

Browse commentary and artwork here on tumblr through the tags!

Main tag: RRCU

Character design notes tag: RRCU design notes

Tags by fic: ROTMRfic, H&Hfic, under the sword lifted high, NONUfic

Tags by character: usagi yuki, usagi yusuke, usagi tetsuya, usagi keiko, usagi toshiko, usagi jotaro, usagi jota, usagi jojo, yoshikawa kenichi, kobayashi mariko, payne

We hope you guys enjoy playing in the rabbit sandbox with us! Please, don't hesitate to comment, send asks or just chat with us! This is our pride and joy and it makes us so happy to know people enjoy our work!

[should-be-sleeping]

Hi, hello, go fuck yourself. :)

First,

Secondly, by the 40's only 33% of farms even had electricity. What timeline are you from? Because it isn't this one. Farm equipment largely ran by man or horse power until the 50's and even the labor done by beast of burden required human labor. I never said by hand, that was a you embellishment. We still use man power in farming today even with all the advancements to technology and its prevalence. Hell, slave labor is still utilized today, what rock do you live beneath?

Third, I love that you genuinely think that working for actual mobsters is nonviolent, that's very... special. I figured the average reader could connect A to B and get the hint but, here you are, acting like the hint is some big gotcha revelation you alone have uncovered with your massive throbbing intellect. But, I guess what should I expect from a nazi apologist that got banned from reddit for spreading misinformation. Lmao.

By the way, just for the record, the average age in which children join a gang today is still 12-14. Your bland experience is not universal. A story that seems wild to you is just someone else's Tuesday. It'll be okay though. Just remember: the world is a vast and varied place!

In conclusion, I'm sorry that you think skepticism alone makes you smart, but it doesn't. Wow, log off. Holy shit. Once again, please don't forget to go fuck yourself. I know I was trying to politely explain the linear passage of time earlier but I want to make it very clear that you're an unlikable person and I do not like you. I had to spell that out to be sure we're on the same page, because we definitely weren't when you took the time to write all that nonsense earlier.

P.S. I'll save you the time of a reply by blocking you outright as you've more than proven you have 0 to add to any conversation above the 4th grade level. Behaving Like This on purpose is doing your depression no favors, just fyi.

P.P.S. Had I realized earlier they think Elon Musk is a genius, I could've saved time and just said: lmao. Alas.

Re: Hobbies

My grandfather was born during The Great Depression. He attended a  one-room school with all the kids in the neighborhood until his teacher deemed him a lost cause. As a problem child he was sent out back with the other misfits during school hours with a stack of comic books to entertain themselves – because they couldn’t read but could look at the pictures. He and the others taught themselves to read so that they could figure out what was going on in the panels. Daredevil and Batman are the only reason he knows how to read. After a fire destroyed his family’s home, he lived in a shack with his mother, father and five other siblings. Suffering third degree burns over more than half of her body during their escape from the blaze, he was removed from school to care for his mother and spent the next few years watching as she slowly died. One of her only comforts was in knowing that he had learned to read so he could make something of himself one day. After losing his wife, my grandfather’s father sold him and his sister to two different families a few counties over. Using the money from those transactions, he was able to keep the remainder of the family afloat. No one knows what became of my great aunt but my grandfather wound up on a farm where he was no longer allowed the luxury of reading, or anything really. My grandfather lived the next handful of years as a slave on a potato farm where he slept in a barn and was given nothing to eat but extra potatoes. If there were no extra potatoes, he did not eat. It is important to remember at this point in time, he was very much still a child. He should have been reading comic books, but instead he was working sixteen hours a day without pay. Finally he could take it no longer and ran away. He hopped into a train car and wound up in the city. By the tender age of twelve he was living in an abandoned building with all the other discarded children of that time period and rats the size of small dogs. He wound up in a gang, fighting for survival in a place that didn’t care enough about starving, suffering children to help them in any way. Sometimes he’d steal comics and read them to the other kids. He was doing things to survive that all his comic book heroes would have condemned him for and that realization, and some good luck, are what got him out of that situation he found himself in. He ran into one of his brothers by sheer accident and neither of them even realized it at the time. Two meetings later, the cat was out of the bag and my grandfather had an “in” to an honest job. He should have been starting high school but instead he was starting a factory job. At least it wasn’t stealing or robbing. At least he was being paid for his manual labor. His first paycheck he gave to the kids he used to run with so that for just one night they wouldn’t have to resort to violence. That is the last time he saw them. He doesn’t know what became of any of them. He met his future wife and through her more doors opened. Driven by this goal to not be The Bad Guy he excelled at all the odd jobs he wound up with and after a lot of heartache and strife, wound up wealthy. Money doesn’t make you exempt from tragedy however. He lost the love of his life before the age of thirty and had to raise their three small children as a single father. Introducing my uncle to comic books is what helped keep him around when, as a teenager, Depression threatened to take him from the world. While still grieving his best friend stole millions from their business leaving him in debt. He’s faced a lot of discrimination solely due to the color of his skin… but none of it has jaded him. If anything it has only, somehow, made him kinder. He is without a doubt the best human being I have ever personally met. He hires maids and maintenance people just to pay them, serves them lunch when they arrive and lets them hang out – just to give them a day off. At eighty he does all his own housework and lawn care. He walks the neighborhood’s dogs. Even though he isn’t rich anymore he still tips fifty percent when he eats out, even at fast food joints. He doesn’t have much time to volunteer but he gives so much of his money to charities and people he runs into on the street who just need something good to happen in their day to make it to the next. And he does all of this to make up for this brief period of time in his life when, as a literal child, he had to hurt people and do bad things to survive. He still lives his life in accordance to some super hero code he picked up as a child that taught himself to read behind a school that gave up on him. Reading matters. Having something unimportant to care about is important. Small things are actually huge. They make the difference. If my grandfather’s origin story has taught me anything it’s that when you’re at your lowest moment, there’s always that one thing that can help guide you through it. “It’s just a hobby” can save lives. Reading, television, art, dancing, gaming, writing, sports, knitting, collecting, singing, whatever gives you joy. Never feel foolish for caring deeply about something commonly viewed as frivolous or a waste of time. It’s not. I cannot stress that enough. It’s okay to like things and for those things to be important to your day to day life. It’s okay.

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Feb 10th

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1. Hello! o/ I'm looking for a fic I saw last year on ao3 but couldn't read it, then when I looked to read it I couldn't find it.

I think the description said that: Wei WuXian and Jiang YanLi decide to run away together with Jin Ling, and after 13 years since they left the cultivation world, Lan JingYi finds them by chance.

I can't remember if the tag(s) or description says A-Yuan is with them or if the Wen Remnants survived and ran with them. But I'm sure the action takes place after Jin ZiXuan dies and Wen Qing is probably dead and Wen QiongLin is captured and imprisoned by the Jin Sect (Not so sure about the last part with Wen Qing and Wen QiongLin).

I also think the Wei Ying | Wei WuXian/Lan Zhan | Lan WangJi tag was also at relationships (I think, not sure).

I hope that helps, I really tried to remember more details but unfortunately that's all I can remember, I hope maybe someone finds this fic, and even if not, thanks a lot for trying and have a nice day or evening! <3

FOUND? it's a long road but we're not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 62k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, LWJ & LJY, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Canon Divergence, Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

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2. Hello! :) I’m looking for a modern AU where Wen Qing tells WWX (platonically) that she loves him, and he is surprised and starts crying, I think. She’s confused that he didn’t know. She may have been warning him to be careful about starting a relationship w LWJ or telling him that she approves if that’s what he wants. Thank you!! 💕 @sadgargoylesss

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3. Please help! I know this fic, but when I search the tags I expect it to be under its not there! Canon divergent au where the wen remnants survive by leaving the burial mounds in small groups and finding jobs elsewhere. Teacher Wei Wuxian who ends up founding a schooling in filing after initially starting off by looking after the little kids while their parents and grandparents work. Identity shenanigans, bc no one realises it's wwx who is running the school, including jwy who yells at him when the school gets in trouble for not paying taxes. I'm pretty sure the opening line to the summary was something like "like a stream flowing downhill the wens left the burial mounds" something like that. It's a long fic. At one point lwj arrives at BM to find no one there and thinks they've all died. This happens again when the Jin go to kill them.

Thanks for your help! 🩷 @theladypeartree

FOUND? Just as the Snow Melts by draechaeli (T, 66k, WangXian, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Mojo's bookmark)

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4. Hello! I love this page!!!

I’m looking for a twitter threadfic!

It’s about LWJ transmigrating from being an omega concubine to the YLLZ (and dying in childbirth) to becoming a newly-destitute socialite(?) and using all his omega concubine seduction skills to woo himself into being (?CEO) WWX’s sugar baby.

Meanwhile the socialite (or company worker(?) LWJ switches into the concubine position.

I remember LXC losing his mind a bit, LWJ scratching strategies off a list.

The thread so funny and amazing and I can’t find it! Please help.

Thank you!

FOUND? #4 is a thread fic by enigmatree on Twitter but apparently they have currently locked their account so I can't share the link. But if you're following her, the first tweet of the thread starts with "Tumblr post: tragedy happens because the wrong people are in the wrong story."

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5. Hi, I'm looking for a fic on AO3 where WWX was staying at a beach house for the summer with WQ and NHS and his siblings and LWJ was at another beach house with MM and Qin Su. And they get together over the course of three summers as WWX has a gay awakening and goes on a date with LWJ to the aquarium and they write letters to each other outside of the summers. I think it was called "summer of peaches" but I can't find it anymore. @briarrose45

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6. hi, i'd like to ask about a fic that should also have attached fanart (which is what i am looking for)? i thought it was caged by moonflowers, but i cannot find the art i'm thinking of, which is of lwj in a chastity device...the fic itself is a setting where lans wear chastity devices until marriage or something, from what i vaguely recall...? thank you.

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7. Hi 👋 👋 👋 please help me those ff 😊 . Thanks you ☺️ A: wei Wuxian learn music and talisman from lan Sect 's teacher .B: jin zixaun and Jiang Yanli not get married C: nie huaisang and Female get married. (wangxian ff) this female give wei Wuxian love letter. @richie-234

FOUND? 🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 925k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

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8. Hi okay so this is a NSFW ask and probably has been deleted. But basically lxc and lwj both feel like jc and wwx should get back closer and come to the conclusion that they should fuck them together and jc is like huh even though wwx is stronger and better than me. He is submissive and they hold hands and come to climax together.

I remember it has 2 chapters and the book was just about them. Some characters might have been mentioned but I don't remember reading about anyone other than the two.

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9. hi, i'm looking for a fic that may be deleted, if you or anyone might remember the title/work: it's a rape fic formatted as a 5+1 fic, where it's 5 times wwx was raped when he was unconscious/asleep and one time he was awake for it? the 5 times include with jiang fengmian & jin guangshan; sect leaders(?) incl lan qiren, nie mingjue; and then gusu lan? i'm hoping it's not deleted but i can't find it anywhere in my bookmarks anymore :(

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10. Hi, So I read this fic a while back on Ao3 I'm pretty sure it involved some form of omegaverse. The main points I remember were that bondings in the cultivation world were typically unequal with only the omega having a mark not the alpha. LWJ and WWX become bonded and have an equal bonding which is the norm for the Lan's (but I think the other sects don't known that the this what is normal for Lan's) I remember there was a lot of jealousy about the fact JYL did not have an equal bond with JZX @lysslov

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11. Hello! I’m having so much trouble finding this one fic, I haven’t read it in a while and none of my searches are coming up with anything OTL. I remember it was a canon divergent fic where i think jc and lwj try to save wwx from being thrown into the burial mounds, and jc loses an arm in the process. I can’t remember anything else about the fic, and it’s been a while so I’m hoping it wasn’t deleted or something!!

Thanks in advance! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

FOUND? Yearning for Miles by lovely_hina (M, 379k, WangXian, XuanLi, JFM/YZY, XiCheng, LQR/Sisi, JueQing, SangYao, XueNing, Time Travel, but not really, they see the future in a thingamabob, Slow Burn, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fix-It, Fluff, Canon-Typical Homophobia, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development Galore, PLEASE ADHERE TO IN-CHAPTER TW, Canon Divergence, wwx still loses his core) think this is it but in this it's only jwy who loses his arm after trying to save WWX, lwj isn't there

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12. I seem to have forgotten the name of this fic. In it, Wei Wuxian dies before the indoctrination and Jiang Yanli while imprisoned later (the Wens basically win) gives LWJ his notebook that contained a time travel talisman. LWJ then tries several times to keep WW alive and has to reset multiple times. They do get married eventually.

FOUND? 🔒 Time Reversal by AitchNKay (M, 63k, WangXian, Major Character Death, Time Travel, WWX dies a lot, everyone dies, Time Travel Fix-It, Fluff and Romance, Drama & Romance, Fluff, Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending)

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13. Hey how are you ?

I'm looking for two wangxian fics

A) First: a modern fic where wei ying was dumbed by Jin zixun and was heartbroken. Lan zhan his best friend,who has a crush on him, consoled him and after that their relationship progressed. I think it was one or two chapters

B) Second: a modern fic in which wangxian are best friends but lan zhan tells wei ying one day that he is dating someone ( mo xuanyu) after that wei ying gets jealous and starts avoiding everyone. I only remember that's not a long story.

I hope u can help me thanks @smarti1997

13B)

FOUND? A storm without a warning by Spodumene (E, 22k, WangXian, WangYu, Modern AU, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Masturbation, Eventual Smut, Pining, Denial, Drunkenness, Jealousy, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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14. Hi can u help me find a fic :(( in wwx's first life he keeps on sating ily to lwj but lwj keeps on rejecting him and then before wwx's death, he qas the one to say get lost to lwj. Fast forward lwj regrets it and when wwx reincarnated, he uses every chance to say ily to wei ying but wei ying keeps on saying thank u. Pls helppp thank uu!

FOUND? When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending)

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15. Hello! I am looking for a specific modern fic where the characters were museum workers, or perhaps art gallery workers. I remember the fic went into great detail about how art and exhibit pieces were carefully catalogued, packed, and moved between locations. I can’t remember the plot at all, just that I was so interested in this logistics element which I had never considered before. Does this ring any bells? I would love to read again, thank you! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND!🔒💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Art Conservation, Museums, Painting, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Pregnancy Mention (Side Character), Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, Past Sexual Harassment (Background Character), Masturbation, Sexting, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Intercrural Sex, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Head Injury, Injury Recovery, Hospitalization, Workplace Accident, OSHA Violations Probably, Hurt/Comfort, Hair Pulling, They'll Be Okay I Promise, incarceration, Past Incarceration, Forgery, Discussions of Criminal Justice Systems, Family, Cock Warming, Labor Unions, Discussion of Adoption, Adoption, Parenting, Honest Conversations About Maybe Having Kids, Flash Forward, Epilogue, LQR Being A Good Uncle)

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16. Hello! I’m looking for a soulmate fic, where the soulmate can write on his skin and it appears on the skin of their soulmate. Wei wuxian loves the idea of having a soulmate and is writing a lot, lan wangji never responding. Wei wuxian then thinks maybe he doesn’t have a soulmate. thank you so much! @needlovebeloved

FOUND? Deconstruct by flowercity (FaoriE) (T, 11k, WangXian, Soulmates, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, they’re so in love)

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17. Help, please. This fic is about LWJ who is a book author who wanted to use WW's illustrations for his book. WW told him he could not do scenes involving hunger and eventually that topic is brought up that makes WW upset. LWJ calms him down and tells him that it will help others that went through what he did. LWJ goes to WW;s home and meets Yuan there too

FOUND? 🔒🧡 “I will climb to where you are” or: the bunny book by ladyofrosefire, NotAFicWriter (T, 40k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Fatherhood, Family, Long-Distance Relationship, Semi-Epistolary, Grief/Mourning, Past Food Insecurity, WWX’s Outstanding Mental Health, Panic Attacks, past parent death, Fluff)

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18. Hello! i'm hoping you can help me find this fic. In it, lan zhan has rejected his soul mate bond with wei ying, who gets quite sick. the moment LZ sees WY at like a cultivation conference, he changes his mind. LXC and LQR are against soulmate bonds because of Madame Lan. Please help me find it!! tysm for all you do @fingersrevenge

FOUND? ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian, angst w/ happy ending, soulmates, chronic illness, hanahaki disease as a curse, feelings realization, angst, fluff, smut)

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19. Hi. I love what you are doing. So THANK YOU. I'm looking for a fanfic on AO3. I think it's a time travel WIP. Somewhat crack. Teen WangXian eloped (?) and there were rummors about them adopting many children. The summary was about people (Lan Xichen maybe? and someone else) talking about how many children they had. I'm not really sure. Thank you. @whatevereveryday

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20. Hey I'm trying to find a fic that's about post canon Lan Zhan meets you get Wei Ying and they do sleep together and Lan Zhan proves that Wei Ying and him are together and at the end Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying that younger Lan Zhan loves Wei Ying and after he disappears Wei Ying goes to find Lan Zhan and he finds him with marks on him with probably mean post canon Wei Ying got to him

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[king-wens-king]

UrGHHH mild ramble but severance is truly the best in the game right now because 1) its an original story not based on previous ip and 2) the commitment to the bit. I talked before how the truman show was a rare gem not just because of its premise but also because of its attention to detail manifested by its production design and writing and severance is totally on par with it.

Severance's worldbuilding doesn't rely on exposition dumps, instead it trusts the audience to ask questions when details are revealed here and there the same way we trust it to give us an answer to certain things later. Another thing to note is that when it answers, it doesn't give the whole picture, just more questions that are still fascinating and engaging. We're introduced to this world and the characters from the jump. However what I think he show is truly masterful at is really commiting to the characters perception of this world, particularly the newness of an encounter and how it handles their experiences by putting us in their shoes. It commits to the emotions and the reactions of the characters as much as the information being introduced.

The closest we get to exposition dumps are helenas statement of consent recording that helly watches and irvings tour in the perpetuity room. This gives more details of the company and what their working lives actually entail, but it's always contextualised through the perspective of these characters. Helly watches in horror as she realises that the person who put her there is her own self, that they are both different people with different motivations, and that she is essentially trapped. Irving displays the devotion he has to this pseudo religious cult company and how he uses it as motivation for ascribing meaning to what little life he has. Every piece of information we have about the world is also information about what these characters think, feel, and who they are.

Theres also information that is introduced to the audience first before the characters. We know Gemma's alive, but Mark Scout still isn't sure of that. But it still hits really REALLY hard when he agrees in instant to go under reintegration – "I wanna see my wife" and a rushing tear falls from his face.

It really adds to the immersiveness of the story, this empathy that we have for these innies and their experiences. This world is new and dangerous and full of things we don't understand, and just like the innies we're doing our best to figure out whats going on without getting a heart attack. Sometimes too, whats obvious to us isn't always obvious to them. The show never downplays the reactions from preestablished information the characters are only now learning, it truly commits to the intensity of a moment and handles it with seriousness and sincerity. It's all about the DRAMA.

CJ the X's video on skipping the first five minutes of tangled pretty much sums up what I'm talking about here. They explain that without the 5 minute exposition dump, we are looking st the world through rapunzel's eyes where everything is new scary but exciting.

[wonderlandcrown]

Yuu and The Housewardens (SPOILERS FOR ALL THE BOOKS, BOOK 7 EXCLUDED)

A thing I really wanted to talk about was the amount of times Yuu has interacted with them during their own books

Because a few months ago I think I saw someone complain about how we only interacted with Leona a few times in his own book, and then I realized that in book 2, 5, 6 and 7, we aka Yuu barely interacted with the respective housewarden.

These obviously parallel the original movies, the amount of interactions or times we've met with each housewarden represent the times when the original villains actively participated to bring down the protagonist.

Just to clarify, twst doesn't follow the plot of the original movies 100%, there are some tweaks in plot as seen in book 1 where we met with riddle a few times more compared to alice and the queen of hearts(who have literally only met one time, but the duration was pretty long)

In book 2, the plot rlly isn't that different from the original. We met Leona and Ruggie earlier even before book 2 started just like how Scar and the hyenas were present before Simba was born. We interacted with him again when going to Savanaclaw to investigate the "accidents", and then finally the showdown between overblot!Leona and Heartshackle(counting Cater and Riddle). It's the same way in The Lion King, Simba has like 2 on screen interactions with Scar before their showdown at the end.

Book 3 was very Yuu-centric, and that's because Ursula was incredibly active in trying to take down Ariel, much more effort compared to the previous two. Ariel had to take things into her own hands, very much like Yuu when their friends got roped into doing basically free labour for Azul. I don't think anymore needs to be added here.

Now onto book 4, also incredibly Yuu-centric! The Sea Witch and the Sorcerer of Sands are not that different in terms of taking care of their adversaries, after all. Aladdin was actively trying to mess with Jafar from day 1, and Jamil decided to avenge his ancestor by sending us off to the edge of the world/j (i dont believe in the great 7 being the overblot boys' ancestors🙏)

Book 5!! Time to talk about my Vil💜 Despite having to live under the same dust-laden roof of Ramshackle dorm, we barely talked with the gorgeous housewarden, obviously referencing how Snow White and the Evil Queen probably barely(or never) talked to each other despite living in the same castle. Though Evil Queen is more active in taking down Snow White after she finds out she's alive, I wish they'd(the writers) included more scenes where we talk and chat with Vil, even if it's just him insulting us💀(no im not saying this as a vil simp whatareyoutalkingabout/hj)

Woohoo we're on book 6🗣️ Hades was so sure that Hercules was dead and never bothered to double check lfmao, unlike Scar who would've been wasting resources and time, couldn't Hades, just like, teleport😭😭😭???

Okay getting off track here, my point is Hercules and Hades are probably the only hero and villain on this list where they'd met multiple times(ignoring jafar since aladdin didn't rlly know he was evil) Yuu definitely had their time to shine in book 6 and all the other characters had been amazing in this book. We had more Idia screentime around the start and the end, but with adequate screentime midway too. Say what you want but book 6 was my favourite.

Book 7 is still ongoing, as it has since I've joined the fandom😭🙏 But did Aurora even interact with Maleficent??? Someone PLEASE let me know, as book 7 is yet to finish, I won't be making assumptions

[ratedcomicmischief]

He's the main character we're just living in his world