#no specific tags for them outside of that...

[hcneymooners]

⋆ arcane but it's a private university au ( for the girls: pt. ii )

ice princess!f!reader x multi. f!characters. men & minors dni.

synopsis: private university!arcane headcanons but it’s really specific bc it’s based on my time at catholic private school except this au is just a private hold the catholic.

cw: this part contains scenarios for jinx, sevika, & ambessa. writing for jinx was actually my favorite portion (ambessa, please forgive me.) suggestive content. notes: i love them so bad. you can find part one here. i didn't include the intro since i did it in the first one! i love you.

jinx : the "bad influence." 

୨୧ the two of you met mid-sprint, fleeing a party broken up by the police. it was one of those raw, electric moments where adrenaline surges and strangers become allies in chaos.

୨୧ in the frenzied escape, she tripped, her knees hitting the pavement hard. without hesitation, you yanked her up, kicking away an overzealous officer with surprising precision.

୨୧ all you caught were glimpses: two impossibly long blue braids swinging like a pendulum and wide, heavily-lashed pink eyes that lingered on yours, a strange curiosity etched into their neon stare.

୨୧ your fingers found hers without thinking, and together you ran—your heeled feet stumbling across glitter-streaked concrete littered with shattered glass and discarded red cups.

୨୧ the chase ended in a hole-in-the-wall thai spot, rain pouring in sheets outside. bundled in your oversized vintage fur coat, dark brown and impossibly warm, you glanced at her—soaked, shivering, and unapologetically smug.

୨୧ against every instinct, you shifted, lifting the bulk of your coat to drape over her smaller frame. pressed close, you felt the cold bite of her skin and the cherry tang of her perfume, thick and sharp. her stomach—toned, pale, and adorned with vibrant tattoos—drew your attention as it flexed when she flagged down the waitress.

୨୧ she was so deeply beautiful and so fucking close to you and you’re shivering and wet together.

୨୧ silence settled between you as she grew overly familiar, stealing bites from your plate and feeding you egg rolls with a crooked grin. her nails scraped against your bottom lip, and she laughed when you blinked, stunned, swallowing more than just food.

୨୧ at some point, she leaned in, stealing a sip from your drink, her lips lingering on the rim.

୨୧ you paid.

୨୧ "thanks, ice princess," she murmured as you left. only then did it hit you—she knew you. you must’ve crossed paths on campus, and yet, she felt like a stranger from a different world.

୨୧ she pressed a glossy pink kiss to your cheek, saluted with mock reverence, and vanished into the seedy underbelly of the city.

୨୧ you thought about her for weeks.

୨୧ you didn’t expect to see her again. but days later, there she was on campus, leaning against the vending machine in your dorm building like she belonged there.

୨୧ “ice princess,” she greeted, that crooked grin pulling at her lips. “guess we’re neighbors.”

୨୧ you didn’t know what to say. it was one thing to pull a stranger out of trouble and share a meal in some forgotten corner of the city. it was another to see her here, part of your world, like she’d been there all along.

୨୧ she started showing up more often after that—slipping into your study sessions at the library, tagging along when you grabbed coffee. she was loud and reckless, her laughter echoing off the quiet walls, drawing stares that you pretended not to notice.

୨୧ it wasn’t long before she started pushing you out of your comfort zone. sneaking you into underground parties, dragging you to rooftop hangouts where the city stretched out beneath you, glittering and endless.

୨୧ she made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t realized you were missing.

୨୧ you couldn’t stop staring at her tattoos, the colorful, intricate designs that covered her stomach and arms. one night, without thinking, you reached out to trace a line along her skin.

୨୧ she caught your hand before you could pull back, her fingers curling around yours. “you like ‘em, huh, mama?” she said, her voice low and teasing. your cheeks burned, and you stammered something incoherent, but she only laughed, pressing your palm flat against her stomach. “gonna get one just for you. we can match.”

୨୧ she had a habit of being overly familiar—feeding you bites of her food, letting her fingers linger against your lips as you swallowed. one time, her thumb brushed your bottom lip, and you caught her smirk as she let her teeth graze her fork, slow and deliberate.

୨୧ you knew you were falling for her. it was impossible not to. the way she leaned in close when she talked, her perfume sweet and enticing, her lips always just a little too close. the way she made you feel like the only person in the room, even in a crowd.

୨୧ not everyone saw her the way you did. when someone from your social circle made a snide comment about her, you didn’t hesitate to defend her. “she’s smarter than all of you combined,” you snapped, your voice colder than ice. “and she’s got more heart than you’ll ever understand.”

୨୧ it was after that that she started pulling away. her laughter came less easily, her touch less frequent.

୨୧ “you don’t get it,” she told you one night, her voice brittle. “i’m… broken. you shouldn’t—”

୨୧ “jinx,” you interrupted, your tone firm but gentle. “i’m from a legacy family. and, according to my family, i "choose" to like girls. i’m definitely fucked up. so how could i judge you?”

୨୧ she stared at you for a long moment, her eyes softening, and for the first time, she was at a loss for words.

୨୧ your first kiss wasn’t rushed or reckless. it was quiet, heavy with the weight of everything building between you. 

୨୧ you were sitting together on the roof of her sister’s apartment, the city lights stretching out below, and she was looking at you like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

୨୧ “you’re staring,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

୨୧ “yeah,” she said, her grin softer than you’d ever seen it. “so what?”

୨୧ before you could answer, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours like a question. when you didn’t pull away, she kissed you deeper, her hand cupping your jaw, her thumb tracing your cheekbone.

୨୧ she tasted like strawberry chapstick and danger, and you never wanted to let her go. when she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, she smiled.

୨୧ “told you,” she murmured, her voice soft and warm. “you’re stuck with me now.”

୨୧ you smiled back, cheeks aching. "i'm not stuck. i'm right where i want to be." ୨୧ she leaned back, dragging you into her lap. a slender finger dipped into your skirt's waistband and fingered the lace dip of your panties. your breath hitched, and she kissed your throat. "c'mon. lemme hear you, mama."

୨୧ from that moment on, you were hers—completely, irrevocably hers.

p.s you say fuck it, choose her over your fuck ass homophobic family, get disowned, get married, start a million dollar engineering empire, & have isha. 

sevika: the older student.

୨୧ you first noticed her in your advanced biochem lab—all sharp angles and calculated movements, her mechanical arm gleaming under fluorescent lights as she measured solutions with military precision. 

୨୧ sevika was notorious among grad students: brilliant, ruthless, and absolutely not interested in working with undergrads. which made it particularly unfortunate when professor silco paired you together for the semester's research project.

୨୧ she was older than most students—whispers said she dropped out years ago and came back after “handling some things.” no one was brave enough to ask what that meant, but her reputation kept most people at arm’s length.

୨୧ her expression when your name was called could have curdled milk. you lifted your chin, met her gaze steadily, and pretended your heart wasn't racing. 

୨୧ sevika didn’t bother to introduce herself. she just crossed her arms over her broad chest and grumbled, “you’re doing the talking.” her voice was low, almost lazy.

୨୧ "i'm not carrying dead weight," she said at your first session. you noticed a scar bisecting her left eye, the way her jaw clenched when she spoke. "if we're doing this, we do it my way." “thought you said i’d be talking,” you snapped back.

୨୧ 'her way' meant late nights in the lab, your designer clothes traded for practical cotton, hair pulled back from your face. she worked you relentlessly, expecting perfection in every measurement, every calculation. but beneath her harsh exterior, you caught glimpses of something else—the way she'd correct your form without mockery, how she'd appear with coffee when your hands started shaking from exhaustion.

୨୧ it was after one of these late sessions that it happened. you were walking back to your dorm, mind fuzzy with fatigue and feet stumbling, when rough hands grabbed you from behind. before you could scream, a low voice cut through the darkness: "let her go, or i remove your hands permanently."

୨୧ sevika stood there, golden eyes burning in the streetlight, her mechanical arm whirring softly. the would-be mugger took one look at her and ran. you stayed frozen, heart thundering in your chest, until she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “get it together, princess. come on."

୨୧ she led you to an alcove and watched you flutter with delayed panic like a bird, mouth twisted with an unreadable expression. "you need to learn to defend yourself," she said finally. it wasn't a suggestion. you opened your mouth to argue, but she cut you off. “gym. tomorrow. six am. wear something you can actually move in."

୨୧ that's how you found yourself spending your mornings with sevika, learning to throw punches and break holds. she was a harsh teacher, but her hands were surprisingly gentle when correcting your stance. "again," she'd say, and you'd try to ignore how your skin tingled where she touched.

୨୧ soon enough, she started showing up wherever you were—whether it was a coffee shop, the library, or your favorite bench on campus. “just passing through,” she claimed. still, the way she always ended up sitting beside you said otherwise. she knew you were anxious, your body tensing whenever someone passed by. your airpods haven’t been in noise cancellation mode for three weeks.

୨୧ her mechanical arm fascinated you. one day, you asked about it, your curiosity outweighing your hesitation. she shrugged, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile when you told her you thought it was beautiful.

୨୧ the project evolved, and so did whatever was growing between you. she started letting you help maintain her arm, teaching you the intricate mechanisms. your fingers would brush as you worked, and sometimes she'd let them linger. "careful," she'd murmur, but you were never sure if she meant with the machinery or with her.

୨୧ in these moments, she had a way of looking at you that made your stomach flip—like she was sizing you up, deciding if you’re worth her time. 

୨୧ you began to seek her out. the first time you loitered in the parking lot of her condo, fingers twitching nervously as you texted that you stopped by. she opened the door and lounged against the doorway, thick thighs bared by her boxers and skin gleaming from a recent workout. she laughed as you gasped and turned away.

୨୧ “what the fuck, sevika!” “princess, we have the same parts. they probably would feel real nice pushed togeth—“ “SEVIKA.”

୨୧ she pushed you out of your comfort zone in quiet, deliberate ways. you’re dragged to the campus bar, taught how to play pool (and lose), and laughing when you scratch on the break. “you’re hopeless, princess,” she teased, her smirk revealing her perfect gap teeth.

୨୧ her teasing was relentless, and she always called you “princess” and sometimes “baby girl” like it was on your birth certificate. you flushed every time, which only encouraged her.

୨୧ the first time you successfully pinned her during a self-defense session, she actually laughed—a rich, surprised sound that made your heart stutter. "not bad, baby girl,” she said, still beneath you, her organic hand warm on your hip. you became acutely aware of your position, of how close her face was to yours. neither of you moved for a long moment.

୨୧ if you’re becoming way too possessive of her, sue you. you’re the only undergrad who’s smuggled yourself under her wing and you’d like to keep it that way, goddamnit. you were never good at sharing anyway.

୨୧ it came to a head at an afterparty, your eye twitching as you watched some bitch (sorry!) trace her talons across sevika’s waist, which was framed admirably by a dark pair of jeans that were practically painted on.

୨୧ it only took a few seconds for you to stomp across the room and root a hand around her neck, drawing her into a searing kiss. you kissed her like you were trying to draw juice from her lips, moaning as she tugged you in closer.

୨୧ she kissed like she fought—precise, demanding, taking no prisoners. she backed you against the counter, knocking over a bottle of malibu, mechanical hand cool against your hips. “didn’t know you had it in you,” she laughed. “shut up, sevika. my god.” you grabbed her collar, reeled her back in.

୨୧ "you're my special girl,” she'd tell you later, tracing patterns on your skin with metal fingers. “the only one i give a fuck about. no competition.” her voice was bleeding with affection, and you curled into her side. she pressed kisses to your hair and leaned over to set an alarm for the both you—one for her, four for you.

୨୧ it worked, somehow—your refined, gilded edges against her sharp ones. you learned to throw a punch; she learned that you would lock her out if she didn’t allow you to spoil her relentlessly. “princess, i already have a bike.” “keep talking, honey, and i’ll purchase the whole dealership.” “now—“

୨୧ "you're trying to kill me slowly,” she grumbled, watching you charm your way through department gatherings. but she'd be there anyway, a solid presence at your back, her mechanical hand resting possessively at your waist. and when you'd lean into her touch, she'd hide her smile in your hair.

୨୧ if anyone found it strange to see the ice princess curled up in the lap of the most feared grad student on campus, well, one look from sevika's narrowed eyes was enough to silence any commentary.

୨୧ you were a fucking princess, both in real life and in her bed, but fuck you were hers. and sevika protected what was hers.

ambessa medarda : the professor. 

୨୧ you first saw her across a dimly lit hotel bar. you were three drinks in, mascara smeared from crying after the worst fight yet with your mother. "disappointing," she'd called you. "ungrateful." all because you refused to date the son of her country club friends.

୨୧ “mommy, please,” you’d sobbed. “i’m not ungrateful. i just don’t love him.” she’d left you with the dial tone.

୨୧ you rubbed a fist across your face like a child, attempting to gather yourself. your phonecall was denied again, and you winced at the tinny voice of your mother’s voicemail, setting it down and turning it off. god, this was the worst thing to happen to you in a long time. 

୨୧ with a sigh, you glanced up at the mirror behind the bar. she was looking right back. 

୨୧ the woman was striking—white locs swept into an elegant updo, wearing a low-cut red dress that hugged her body tightly. she moved like a lioness, back flexing as she hunkered down over the glossy wood. her golden eyes met yours, and your stomach began to spin. you knew this was the beginning of a dangerous game.

୨୧ after a minute she walked over, hands bearing water instead of another drink. "crying in bars rarely solves anything, little one," she said, her accent rich and heady. when you tried to argue, she simply raised an eyebrow, and you found yourself downing the glass in its entirety. 

୨୧ you kept eye contact as you swallowed, tongue peeking out to lap at the remnants along your lips.

୨୧ you don't remember who moved first. but you remember her hands—strong, calloused—gripping your thighs. remember her voice, rough with want, whispering against your neck. remember the way she claimed you, leaving mottled marks you'd find days later.

୨୧ you remember waking up alone in her hotel room, a glass of water and two aspirin on the nightstand. no note. just the lingering scent of her perfume—spiced and earthy—on the sheets.

୨୧ you tried to forget her. tried to forget how she'd called you “sweet girl” when you'd bitten her shoulder, how she'd laughed darkly and pinned your hands above your head, called you “easy” when you sobbed out pitiful demands for her to go harder and faster, do destroy you from the inside out.

୨୧ then came the first day of advanced military history.

୨୧ "good morning, class. i'm professor medarda."

୨୧ your blood ran cold. there she stood—your favorite fantasy, your most well-spent drunken night—looking devastatingly beautiful in a tailored suit. her eyes found yours immediately, and you saw the recognition flash in them, followed by something darker, more primal.

୨୧ you tried to drop the class. she denied your request personally.

୨୧ "running away?" she asked during mandatory office hours, pouring tea from an ornate set. "that's not the fierce girl i remember. you scratched me all up.”

୨୧ your cheeks burned. "professor—"

୨୧ "ambessa," she corrected, sliding the tea across her desk. “i think we’re past the formalities.”

୨୧ you couldn't avoid her. she called on you in class, her voice caressing your name. kept you after lectures to "discuss your work." you told yourself the tension would fade.

୨୧ it didn't.

୨୧ "i need a teaching assistant," she announced one evening, when you'd stayed too late reviewing your paper. "someone sharp. strategic. devoted.” her fingers brushed yours as she took your empty teacup. "interested?"

୨୧ you should have said no. you should have viewed her wolfish grin as a red flag, grabbed your shit, and hauled ass. instead, you heard yourself say, “of course.”

୨୧ being her TA meant late nights in her office, her perfume making you dizzy with memories. meant watching her command rooms full of students while remembering how she'd commanded your body. it meant pretending you couldn't feel her eyes on you, hungry and possessive.

୨୧ "we should establish some boundaries,” you said finally, after weeks of delicious torture.

୨୧ "should we?" she moved like a predator, backing you against her desk. "or should we discuss how you keep shivering when i get too close?"

୨୧ your breath caught. "this is inappropriate."

୨୧ “mmm, entirely," she agreed, one hand sliding into your hair, the other around your neck. “now, tell me to stop."

୨୧ you didn’t. 

୨୧ “little minx,” she murmured and you kissed her, surging forward and into her lap.

୨୧ it became your secret—stolen moments in her office after hours, weekends at her apartment where she'd cook elaborate dishes and tear your papers to shreds, nights where she'd make you forget your own name and squeal hers.

୨୧ “good girl” she'd murmur against your skin, switching to noxian when you drove her too far. she ordained you with names that meant something far more possessive and crude in her native tongue.

୨୧ the whole thing made you feel deliciously stained and you sought her out to purify you time and time again. you kept it hidden until graduation. until you had your degree in hand and nothing left to lose.

୨୧ the scandal was delicious—respected professor medarda and her former student, now openly living together. your mother was horrified. society whispered.

୨୧ "regrets?" ambessa asked one morning, watching you sip the spiced coffee you'd grown to love.

୨୧ you thought of that night at the bar, of all the paths that led you here. "never."  it turned out some mistakes are worth making twice.

© hcneymooners.

[liondrakes]

I was tagged by @that-dreaming-dragon to respond, and I’d love to! I answered these questions before on my side blog (@/brer-dragonne), but that was before I learned said blog was shadowbanned.

That said, I will share an updated version of the answers I had from my original response:

The Winged Lion(drake) Answers!

1.) Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

I am many things, to say the least. I'll start out simple by saying that I am transspecies. With that, I belong to the following communities: spacekind, dragonkind, fictionfolk, mythic and folcinteric kind, and polymorphic / shapeshifting-kind.

Outside of species, I am: ontoplanar, an archetroper, a soulbonder, and a dæmian. All things pertaining to my alterhumanity can be found here!

2.) What/who is/are your types)? (if you have any)

Before I discussed the specifics of my being, I will note that I only use kin-based language out of convenience. I personally no longer label myself as otherkin or therian due to my preference towards transspecies, but I do use vocabulary associated with both to put things in layman’s terms.

That said, I am a draconic polymorph. This is an umbrella of sorts to describe my identity.

As a draconic polymorph, I have six core identities: a metallic dragonne (a gold liondrake, specifically), an anymic sphinx, an anymic manticore, a celestial of creation, a Lionblood Mundu-Mugo and The Winged Lion of Golden Country. All of which, save for my Winged Lion fictomere, are sourced from D&D or some other TTRPG. These are not my only forms, but they do hold a lot of prominence in contrast to other species I belong to.

Of these six forms, the most prominent is myself as a gold liondrake. This is due to the species’s presence in my alterhumanity and its noemata respectively.

While they aren't listed amongst my core identities, I also consider my concept selves and my singular object self to be of immense importance. I am consistently these things alongside whatever species I currently am.

I am always the concepts of fantasy (as in the genre of fiction), folklore, magical realism and imagination. In terms of objecthood, I am always a bestiary as well. I experience this in both literal and metaphorical contexts, but getting into the details behind these experiences would take forever. Just know that these ‘types, despite not being core forms, are intrinsic to how I experience my alterhumanity.

3.) Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

Depends on the context. I never experience mental shifts because I am always a polymorph. I never leave that perspective; it is a natural part of my life. In terms of shifting between species, then yes, I do experience this since it is the very makeup of my being. Species shifts happen on a regular basis for me. This is experienced through a series of phantom bodies which indicate what I’m currently shifted into. Most are actual ‘types that I have.

I also experience cameo shifts, and they annoy me to hell and back. It’s hard enough making sense of my own polymorphism. Since it’s hard to tell whether or not a cameo shift is an identity I actually belong to, dealing with them worsens my experience. I usually don’t adopt a species or identity from a cameo shift into my repertoire since the experience leaves me so confused. Luckily, cameo shifts don’t occur often for me.

The most common species I shift into are my core identities. The strangest cameo shift I’ve had is probably a Ghost Leviathan.

4.) How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

How anyone would experience everyday life. Things that don’t seem “out of the norm” to orthohumans are practices that I do in relation to my alterhumanity.

Although not every draconic being hoards, I personally hoard books and dice because they are my treasures. I keep them in a massive trunk as one would keep gold in a chest. This practice also ties into my archetropy as a cloistered scholar.

In terms of appearance, I style my dreadlocks in ways that are reminiscent of a lion’s mane. I also tend to wear heavier clothing (bomber jackets, jackets lined with faux fur, etc) to simulate the shape and feel of a lion, kudu, elk, etc. Little touches that help me feel in touch with my animality, y’know? In addition to the physical body I maintain, I’m always shifted into some kind of phantom body that reflects my species at the moment.

There’s also the inner world I maintain. When I have the time and focus, I renovate that special place in my headspace. Communicating with and checking in on my soulbonds, as well as working with Maxwell (my dæmon), is all a part of routine.

My partner @venussxren has a part in it as well, although it’s by her choice rather than my request. Often asking me what form I’m in and taking on her own forms alongside me, it’s wonderful being able to share such an important part of my life with someone near and dear to me.

5.) What do you think of the community?

I'm not in every corner of this community, so it's a little difficult to announce my feelings as a whole knowing how broad the alterhuman community is.

That said, I will say that I am happiest when engaging with my fellow draconic beings and my fellow fictionfolk. I truly appreciate how understanding each community is, and learning more my peers’ unique experiences with draconity and fictionhood respectively brings me much joy.

Aside from those specific groups, I love reading about the alterhumanity and/or nonhumanity of folks’ outside of my own experiences. In my opinion, exploring perspectives you don’t relate to are far more interesting than seeking out ones that you personally relate to. I understand preferring the latter, but only seeking that gets monotonous very quickly.

All in all, I can’t give a definitive answer to this. However, I can say for certain that I enjoy being in this community.

6. What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

Writing. I had a pretty big burnout after getting my B.A., thanks to the massive workload I had to push through. Around then, I had little to no motivation to write the things I wanted to write. Whether it be my manuscript or my poetry, I just didn't have the energy for it.

When I started involving myself more in the community, I considered writing about how I felt but I didn’t have the words yet. It wasn’t until I attended the first Centaurus Festival when I got this burst of inspiration. It made me want to write again, and so I did. Gearing my writing towards my alterhumanity not only helped me get out of that funk, but using my passion to explore this part of me felt so good.

To this day, writing down my introspections and sharing them is a very euphoric experience.

7.) Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

Rarely. I don’t hate the body that I am in. The only thing I hate about it is my inability to physically change between forms.

After all, I am a polymorph. Synonymously, a shapeshifter. An entity who flows between states of being. To change my shape is my thing. That's the only feature (or lack thereof) belonging this body that makes me dysphoric. I shouldn't be confined to just one form. It feels unnatural.

Besides that, there’s also the lack of physical presence for my noncorporeal forms to account for. This experience is more disorienting and bothersome than dysphoria-inducing, though.

8.) What advice would you like to say to a young alterhumans who have just awakened?

Don’t fret over things like validity or what discourse you think is relevant. You have plenty of time to learn about yourself and your community. It's best to focus on how you feel about your identity and taking the time to explore those feelings, instead of sweating over trivial things.

I recommend looking into writings and lectures made by our community as a starting point.

Here are some places to start if you're looking into it: The Alterhuman Archive and The Wildpath Library for written works, and the Othercon YouTube Channel for spoken lectures and panels. There’s also a thread of information from my side blog that dives deeper into learning about one’s community and the knowledge it holds.

9.) Do you have/want to have gears?

I don't have any. That said, I would like those gloves with sequin scales. Bonus points if they come with claws. Those look quite nice, and l'd love to get a matching tail for them. I also wouldn't mind a mask— preferably of a lion or a cougar in the style of a puppy hood, kind of like this.

That said, these items are off my radar at the moment. They're not really high on my wishlist, just things of interest.

10.) Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

I will summarize since the full details aren't all the way there yet. What I understand so far is that I am a being that originates from a dimension outside of this one, one that relies on the universal practice of storytelling to continue existing.

This dimension is an alternate reality of Dungeons and Dragons in which each campaign or setting exists within its own "solar system", for a lack of better words.

This dimension still harbors traits that align with the established canons of D&D but has its own unique lore, contents and continuities nonetheless. It is because of this experience that I coined the term Ontoplanar. It is also why I consider myself to be canon-divergent, even though the context of what is and is not “canon” to D&D is highly subjective.

I see this body I occupy as a vessel of sorts. I'm not sure why I am positioned in this world or how that came to be, but either way, I know where I truly belong. That's as much as I know so far.

11.) Tag someone to answer these questions!

I invite @werecoyotl, @mackerelgray, @stormy-talks, @rareblackcat and @nimdreams to join in! Of course it’s up to you whether or not you want to do your own post like this, but I’m curious to read what y’all have to say!

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[rubyvhs]

who’d believe? | dean winchester

summary. dean finds you six years after you ‘died’. tags. wc 2.3k, car sex (just fingering), angst, mentions soulless sam. lailas notes. this is for my ‘stuck on you’ by meiko square for @jacklesversebingo + actually got inspired by @little-diable ‘s not a ghost fic. so so beautiful and i think everyone should go read it! ++ for my 500 celebration, so happy i got to it so quickly && the title is the translation of the song title. and most importantly, beta’d by the incredible @copperboom82 who made it much more readable and enjoyable.

You were never really a bar type of person, mostly because of the loud noise and smell, other than that, you liked a good party. But you decided you needed to celebrate getting your dream job, or, okay, whatever, your friend is forcing you to. 

"I'm not taking no for an answer," she said, handed you your outfit and went outside to get the car started, not even giving you time to reject the idea. Though the second you stepped foot in the lively place, you were glad you came.

The drinks and music were exactly what you needed; a nice night out with no responsibilities. And especially no men (at least none like those you work with, you're honestly over them). 

An hour into dancing with your friend, two more strangers join you. When the last song ends and another less 'pop' and more 'rock' one starts, they suggest going out to smoke for a second. Despite not once in your life trying it, you agree. 

You should really work on saying no.

Thankfully you're sensible enough to refuse when they try to hand you one, just standing next to them, linking your arm with your friend's. "Where do you work?" You ask one of the girls. She has shorter red hair that almost reaches her shoulders, black eyeliner and a septum piercing. In other words? Fucking sexy.

"Police." Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. "Oh, stop it! You're fine."

You laugh but shake your head, "No, no, that's not what I meant, you're just so— cute, I guess. Wouldn't have taken you for the assertive cop type."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs, dismissing the thought. It's obvious she gets it a lot. "Saw the hottest guys today, by the way—"

Her friend interrupts, beautiful brown pin-straight hair, pale skin, a gorgeous smile; "God, he was pretty. And his brother too…”

"Oh yeah. Agent something and Agent whatever, I don't remember, I was too busy looking through the shorter one’s shirt." You all laugh, a sway in your demeanor. You're pretty sure it's the alcohol that's got them saying all this but it's funny either way. 

"Yeah, he was amazing. Like, those green eyes, honestly—" Your smile drops fast. Green eyes had always been somewhat of a trigger for you ever since Dean, especially that specific beautiful shade. Then again honestly everything's been a trigger: hunting, black cars, vintage cars, food, pie— you could go on.

"Oh and the way he walks? The little outward bounce of his leg, so cute!"

You shift, a little uncomfortable. How many guys do you know with bow legs, green eyes and are cops? They're probably not allowed to tell you he's FBI. 

The red-haired girl touches your arm making you jump. "Shit, you okay, honey? You seemed out of it."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, just reminded me of someone. Old…" Dean. 

There he is. Alive and in the flesh. You don't become a hunter and not hear about the Winchesters, you, on the other hand, fly under the radar. Especially since you try to stay away from any and all hunters.

But you heard nothing of how gorgeous he has grown up.

The girls catch your drift mid-sentence and look back to see what you're staring at. A dumb-struck Dean. "Oh! Agent…" Her friend elbows her stomach and Dean doesn’t peel his eyes off of you to speak.

"Right, yes. Hi, Officer." 

She blushes under the dim light but Dean apologizes before breezing past them and holding your arm roughly to drag you away behind the bar. Your friend makes sure to motion to you if you need help before you let her know she should just get back inside. It’s pretty damn obvious you know the guy.

"Are you fucking serious?"

You let out a shy smile, "Dean, hey, how are you?"

"'How are you?'" He mocks, letting go of your arm aggressively, "'how are you?'"

"Is that not what they say anymore?"

"Are you serious?" He seems to enjoy repeating sentences much more than when you last saw him. "I looked for you, I mourned you." You mourned him too, in a way. 

You and Dean were acquaintances, occasionally hunting together until you stayed at Bobby's place for a week and he came to visit coincidentally. You both started talking more that night, exchanged phone numbers and became somewhat friends. 

Sam left for Stanford and you guys stayed together more frequently. Sam came back and you 'died'. Not on purpose, obviously, but Dean thought you died. You did, for a second, before you were brought back for some twisted, fucked up reason. Not that you knew it but if you did you're sure it would be fucked up.

By the time you woke up Sam and Dean had been long gone and your body had been buried. Didn’t burn your bones like he should’ve, no. He buried you. You're not sure which is worse.

"Look, I don't know what happened—"

"What does that even mean? You magically come back to life; you fucking call me! Ever thought of that?" A thousand times. 

But Sam had finally decided to come back and hunt with Dean, Dean buried you, and so, you'd reasoned he was fine. You knew that if you were Sam, your body would've been preserved in the Impala for months before he'd ever allow himself to do that, to put you six feet under. The fact that he didn’t hold on to you had to mean he was okay.

But neither of you deserve more guilt. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"That's really rich. Real rich comin' from you. Grieved you for goddamn years. Six." Huh, that's a lot longer than you’d have thought. You were sure it would be six minutes. You knew he cared about you, but Deans also a 'what's done is done' kind of man.

"I'm—"

"If you apologize, I'll kill you. Again." You're about to crack a joke but his glare sets you off. Oookay, tough crowd, whatever. 

"I wanted to call, I swear I did," how do you explain to the king of 'I don't deserve good' that you don't deserve him. He'll think it's a cruel joke. "I didn't know if you'd want me to reach out, I thought you were moving on with Sammy, okay? Going on with finding John. Me calling wouldn't have made a difference."

He scoffs, shaking his head. "I went to hell." You bite your bottom lip between your teeth. He sighs, a mix of emotions on his face. "You knew?" Your nod makes him turn around in anger (disappointment? hurt?), kicking the cardboard box as far as it'll go, another plastic one breaks and you flinch at that one. 

In your defense, everyone knows.

"I couldn't do that to you and Sam, you moved on, Dean, I heard about you and Lisa and Ben—"

"Where the hell did you hear that?" Hunters talk. And he knows it. He turns around in an angry haze. "I didn't fuckin' move on, alright? I did what Sam wanted me to do when I didn't have you. Because my goddamn brother was in a cage with Lucifer, and now he's walking around without a soul!" He raises his voice until it gives out and so does his breath. You can't help the way your heart clenches, not even because of the words, but the tired look behind Dean's eyes. 

Subconsciously, you move forward until you can hug him, and like he always used to: Dean throws himself into it, his head in your neck as he breathes you in. "I missed you." He whispers. 

You don't believe how easily he's adjusted to this. If you were in his place you wouldn't hesitate to kill him, thinking he's a demon or a shifter.

He chuckles, his whole body rubbing against you. "Haven't hugged anyone like this in— ever. Was waiting for you." 

He's never been safe, always made everyone else feel protected, you could only hope you built a safe place within yourself for him. You're at least close.

"I missed you too, De. Every single day, I swear."

You don't know what about the sentence sparks anything in him, but it does. He pulls away to smirk and push you against the hard wall. You gasp, doing nothing but turning him on more and giving him an entrance to your mouth. 

He kisses you like he's lost his mind. He has.

His touch is electric as he pulls you closer, the heat of his body searing your skin, the raw intensity of desire saying more than words ever could. The kiss evolves, turning feral, almost carnal. He holds you, firm but tender, and rediscovers your mouth like a starving man. He is, he hasn't tasted you in… ever. 

This is your first kiss with Dean, but the explosive chemistry between you makes the blood scream in your ears. It was never a secret that you and Dean were more than just hunters to each other, and it seems you dying was his last straw. 

"We— Dean, can't here—" 

He agrees. Or he doesn't. He's still kissing you and you're not sure if either of you are breathing. 

Eventually he lets go. "Yeah," he whispers against your lips, moving for another kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, leaving a peck and panting out, "right." 

"'M sorry." God, why are you apologizing? Why are your bodies so far away?

He shakes his head, moves away (even if it looks like he's struggling to do so), "it's fine, what— you were here with friends? Are you staying?"

"Are you asking me to not stay?" 

He smiles, leans down for another kiss and you decide to say goodbye to your friends now or else you're never getting the chance. 

"De, someone can see—"

"Don't overthink it." He says, burying his head between your breasts, kissing, biting, licking and loving all the noises you're making. He groans into your skin, nipping at a particularly sensitive spot that has you moaning out loud. "God, sweetheart, love that sound."

He moves his hands to your waist, thrusts his hips once, checking your reaction. A little tremor passes through you. Eyes hood over. 

"Can't believe you're here, and all for me." 

"Yes," you breathe, resting your forehead against Dean's, overwhelmed by his words and how close his hand is to your inner thigh. "Please."

"If I slide my hand up your skirt, will I find you dripping wet for me?" Another shudder shakes you gently. 

"Yes."

When he grips your knee and your neck, closing your lips with a kiss while his other hand travels higher, you start feeling your pulse hammering in your ears. The windows start misting over, giving you privacy— not that you particularly believe Dean cares. 

Dean moves his seat back, then pushes you until your shoulder blades hit the steering wheel so you're more comfortable, your legs bent on either side of him, hands braced against the door and his chest. 

"Dreamed about this," He says, his voice low and husky. The way his eyes are raking over your body, you're not even sure you're supposed to hear him. "Thought about this everyday for six years, sweetheart. Now I get to have you." 

He glides one finger between your lips, sliding up and down slowly. “Such a pretty pussy,” he groans, eyes focused between your legs and you fall over, your head on his chest, before he pushes you back against the steering wheel, "nu-uh, wanna see it. Wanna see how wet you are for me, baby."

You have so much to say— a lot of apologies and 'I miss you's’ and so many more beautiful words and kisses and you want to tell Dean that you care about him as much as he does you and why you left—

He dips two fingers inside you. Curls them immediately, and just like that, he finds your most sensitive spot. 

You half pant, half moan, the words 'Dean, oh my god, please' a jumbled drowned-out mishmash because he starts torturing your clit, his thumb rubbing perfect circles, hard and fast, reducing your bones to liquid. But when you're right there, he eases away, lazily pumping two fingers in and out. 

He smiles, exhaling a content breath as his gaze zeroes between your thighs, ignoring your pleas. "Yeah? you wanna come, darlin’?" the pet name and the question both bring out a loud moan you didn’t know you were holding, your hips involuntarily moving against his fingers until he stops you. you’re about to whine again but he increases the pace, crooking his fingers inside you while his thumb rubs your clit, and that’s all it takes.

The orgasm rips through you, powerful, relentless, so intense you think you might just black out. You’ve never felt so boneless in someone's arms, until your head falls right into his chest as he works your pussy, the sensation easing off and then coming again like waves crashing against the shore.

Dean doesn't stop. His fingers are rough, his thumb still being put to good use, and the release lasts so long. So fucking long you think you have an out-of-body experience. 

It takes a minute until you're able to breathe anything but his cologne. When you can, you sit up slightly and move into the seat next to him, thankful for the lack of a console to separate you since you don't get very far, just lay your head on his chest. 

He kisses your head. You can even feel his smile against the kiss until you notice the bulge of his pants and frown. You quickly get up and Dean's entire face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't think—" 

Dean grabs your wrist before it makes it halfway to his dick. "This isn't an exchange, sweetheart." Your entire body is like jelly, you can't move and you're pretty sure if you try sucking Dean off, you’ll pass out. But it feels… rude. "You're spent. I'll get you home so you can take a hot shower, and we'll pick this up again when you're ready. How about that?" 

You can't fucking believe your luck. Dean wants an 'again'. 

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Side B: a new AU concept

So, me and @numbuhinfinitys were talking and she asked me "what happens to Reyna and DCFDTL's relationship in your time set?".

And it got me thinking: as the AU is, it would be impossible for Reyna and/or other OCs to exist, since there is a set story that needs to happen and characters have specific roles that leave next to nothing for them to happen outside said story.

So the answer would be "it doesn't exist because they will stay as kids and won't fall for anyone". BUT at the same time, I found myself wanting to interact with other people's OCs, and I want them to interact with mine too!

And that's where Side B comes in: Side B is basically the same AU as my normal one BUT people's OCs exist, interact with it and maybe might also change the outcome of certain events or just influence them! It's a way so I can create more stories and have people in it without me getting a headache because changes need to be made (LMAO).

Going back to Reyna: in Side B, she is like an 80s magical girl: a cool teenager idol that Penny loves a lot who can turn into a kid who lives with the DC and protects them from KND attacks! This is the base of her role, and things can be built and happen from here: Nigel might know her from GKND and also her childhood days and doesn't trust her because she lives in the Villa (and he has lived here too for a short time). He also might not know Reyna is also protecting the Children from Father himself! There are a lot of possibilities from here, maybe Sector V somehow doesn't remember her and is just chill. Maybe they might like her Teen Idol self.

Let's make two other little examples using @kandykatz 's blorbs: Carol is in love with the Interesting Twins; but from my AU we know they are decommissioned at this time. In Side B, they could still be commissioned because Carol managed to have them spared and they are happy together. Or, they are decommissioned and Carol still loves them and goes on a trip to win their hearts again. Or the pain was just too much and she got decommissioned as well to forget about them but somehow they meet again. There are a lot of possibilities for this!

Same for Aiden: in my AU Patton is an evil guy; Aiden could be evil too, or he could be a TND operative in a secret relationship with Patton, or they broke up and now there's bad blood between them. Aiden might convince Patton to go back to being good. OR, he never became a villain because of Aiden!

Of course, it's up to anyone to decide how their OC are, as long as they are mindful of my world! My DMs are open if you wanna plot a specific event!

Side B will go together with my normal AU, but posts tagged with "Side B" specifically mean that they are events that completely change or differ something inside the story!

Side B is what my story would be if other people where in.

If you made a post with our characters interacting, you already are inside Side B!

I'm excited to see what else my AU could be!!! Thanks to anyone who will join!

[yuridemon]

only one person i know that can outfreak clownpierce

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Soda is ADHD, Pony is autistic, and Darry… my guy has all the things. Anxiety? Yes. Depression? If you’re telling me he’s not depressed you need to go read/watch again. Autism indeed. ADHD you got. Auditory processing disorder (this one’s a me thing). And on top of it all he is just the Most Stressed Guy.

[hellenichu]

4 days, 15+ hours of work, i managed to finish all of the outsiders SMP cast, as lil character designs. It's not a lot but it was a tiring process so i hope you still enjoy them🙏

Lil babies❤️❤️ love them all so much 💔💔(the angst is soon to come now that the designs are done)

[please-read-the-manga]

It's all good man, just offering a few caveats before I start:

1.) I never read and have very little interest in Itachi Shinden as it's a light novel (maybe that will change someday, though). That being said I think I (roughly) know about some of the elements you're hinting at (between Fugaku and Itachi) from the novel but not any specifics. I know some people hold them as absolute canon while others completely disregard them, etc. For me, I see them as somewhere in-between, but like I said I fully admit I'm unfamiliar with them. The original manga is where it is at with me.

2.) I literally say in the post/disclaimer that Fugaku is not infallible. This isn't a post to glaze him lol and I even critique how he handled Itachi outside of the moment shown AND criticize Madara as well. It's mostly intended as an examination comparing two perspectives that were striking to me (Fugaku's and Hashirama's) that, again, to me, appear contradictory in an intriguing way. If that means it shouldn't exist in the Itachi tag, I can always remove that so as to not bother his fans here (I just thought since he was mentioned I should tag it that way).

3.) I'm never going to grant that the Uchiha genocide was in anyway necessary or justified. Full stop. So, if there's some element of trying to get me to see 'why' it was done 1.) I already understand the varying character perspectives on it (namely those from Itachi and Danzo), but 2.) I will personally never view those as legitimate/justifiable. I feel very strongly over how events like these are portrayed in media. That being said, again... everything is complex. We can examine (as I'm open to do) the dimensions that exist within the clan politics we're shown in the manga as well as the actions of complicated/contradictory characters like Madara, I just draw the line at ever seeing genocide as a solution to those layered problems. The massacre of every single Uchiha (including civilians, children not named Sasuke, and those likely not even involved in the coup plans) is unjust and I will firmly stand by that. Sorry.

This comes before Hiruzen shoots down Danzo's claim that the 'Uchiha will not be dissuaded' as Hiruzen hasn't even tried diplomacy yet, nor does he get the chance. Danzo makes it clear that his decision to unjustly (I stand by that word) indiscriminately slaughter an entire group of people through Itachi is preemptive. Actions by the Uchiha have not been taken yet, diplomacy has not yet been pursued and Danzo ensures it never will once he presents Itachi with his horrific 'choices'.

Okay, so hopefully that clarifies a bit right off the bat, and I apologize for not being well-versed on Itachi Shinden - my analysis here is restricted to the manga.

(Hopefully this is the correct formatting for replies. This got... really long lol, so I'll cut it up here).

Criticising Fugaku for his terrible parenting is not the same as portraying him as a "demon of hatred and cruelty." It's not even a prevelent opinion in the fandom. Itachi gets way more hate, is demonised way more than Fugaku, even if Fugaku was the one who shaped him, abandoned him, and became one of the biggest reasons why the massacre even happened in the first place. The man could have stopped it all by paying more attention to Itachi after Shisui's death. But nope. He had in fact sent Shisui to spy on his own son.

I guess it's impossible to measure who gets more hate (or I wouldn't know how to do that anyway) but this write-up was never meant to be a comparison between Fugaku and Itachi? Other than their interactions with one another, that is. In my experience, I have more commonly seen portrays of Fugaku being this caricature of an evil villain who lives to ruin Sasuke's life... I actually think the fan works that present Fugaku as a more complex character with honest looks into his parenting difficulties are really refreshing.

Fugaku is awkward. That's something Mikoto outright states and that's something Sasuke acknowledges/agrees with enough to find comfort in following her pointing it out. He doesn't know the right thing to say all the time, but I absolutely do not think this negates his love for his sons.

When Itachi is being wrongly criticized by other clan members over the death of Shisui and his own commitment to the clan's cause, Fugaku defends Itachi and adds weight to Itachi's reasoning for his behavior.

Again, I'm not sure if Itachi Shinden negates these flashbacks, and we can maybe examine the fact they're from Sasuke's POV (these are Sasuke's memories and he was very obviously a child here), but I re-read them and see a father struggling to understand the conflict his son is navigating through but still standing by his child in a way that he can. We can say that it's 'not enough' but to me, here, I don't believe Fugaku is abandoning him. I know we can likely agree too, that too much responsibility was put onto to Itachi - he was far too young to be navigating politics at this level and being used not just as a pipeline from the clan to the village, but the reverse as well through Hiruzen, Danzon and the Elders' own machinations.

So, maybe we'll just have to agree to disagree that Itachi gets more hate, as you say. Really the only measure I could think of is that Fugaku is a MUCH smaller character compared to Itachi and his impact on general fan opinion may be a lot smaller as a result? But, in my opinion, Itachi frequently gets a lot of fan support and is a very popular character, to the extent many don't criticize his actions at all (though there is, of course, some good critical analysis out there). As a fan of certain characters like Madara (whew and isn't he an interesting mess lol) and Sasuke, who certainly have their fair share of awesome fans/positive reception, I know what it's like to see those negative opinions/write-ups slip through that I feel are major misinterpretations haha, and it can be so hard to ignore them sometimes lol. So I get it.

"Unjustly" even if it happened due to the bad decisions made by Fugaku himself, for years, throwing his son to the wolves, preparing him as a weapon so he would be useful for war against the village while having no idea of the future afterwards. Fugaku only realised he had been wrong and destroyed Itachi's life. If he had known this before, he wouldn't have thought of the coup as the only solution to their plight. And even if he had, he wouldn't have dragged his child into this mess to turn him into a killing machine. He was more excited about Itachi's Anbu mission than Sasuke's Academy.

I've kind of belabored this point already, but yes... unjustly. Placing the blame for his family's genocide solely on Fugaku is an interesting take. Again, maybe Itachi Shinden has some revelations I've never heard of, but I think we may be reaching with the 'no idea of the future afterwards' when we literally are not privy to any of those exact conversations. We just don't know (and there's so much we don't know). We don't know what the Uchiha had actually prepared in regards to the coup... how far along they were (though some characters with their own distinct biases have opinions on this, I'd argue we still don't objectively know). We never get a chance to see if diplomacy may have played out, but enough characters do speculate that the massacre may not have been so inevitable (Minato mentions the UCM being his fault for passing away, Itachi literally wonders before he is released from the edo tensei if Sasuke could have changed things, etc)... all that speculation, to me, reveals that it was never so black and white.

I do agree that Fugaku likely had many regrets. Again, he's a realistically flawed parent (to me) in what I observe in these panels. He's, as pointed out, incredibly awkward and when Itachi does point out to him how badly Sasuke wants his father at his attendance ceremony, he acquiesces. I feel the need to stress that I'm not really going out of my way to defend him here, but I am pointing out there are layers to his character that likely influence his actions (even if we are not told so explicitly)... he is the clan head, his clan is being discriminated against (and this has occurred for decades now), his clan is rightfully upset at this mistreatment, and it's all coming to a head. Further, as clan head, there is an expectation (right or wrong) that his heir will inherit his responsibilities and duties one day. I agree that's a lot to put onto a child (especially one who is also being hounded after by the village higher-ups for their own gain), but I do think it's worthwhile to remember that this is what Fugaku is dealing with...

I, personally, don't think he was setting out to ruin his son while laughing manically as he planned new ways to overwhelm Itachi and give him more crushing responsibilities lol - I jest a bit, sorry. If that were the case, I don't think he would encourage Itachi to stand by his convictions in the end, nor do I think he would defend his son to the clan even as said son lowkey showcased some alarming behavior (just to clarify here so nothing gets misconstrued, the POV here is that of other members of the clan who are already suspicious of him - it's not my opinion, we the reader know why Itachi is acting that way).

To dive in further, this scene, where Itachi refuses to explain his mission to his father and is going to take the mission in lieu of the clan meeting, is one where we see a very stern Fugaku who is exerting his authority in the parent-child relationship and reiterating what he expects of Itachi (this difficult balance between clan and village responsibilities when tensions are at an all-time high). It is negative, it is harsh. We still see him later, however, (as mentioned earlier) defending Itachi's decision not to attend and standing by his son when the other clan members confront him. Again, not an infallible guy, but hardly this 'evil' father he gets painted as.

Fugaku did not stand by Itachi's side. Not when it was needed. So this moment only serves to make a 12-year-old Itachi feel more guilty.

Here, I think you are referring to the aftermath of Shisui's suicide? As far as I know, I don't think there was anything specifically mentioned about Fugaku's response or absence of a response to the suicide, but I'll re-read Fugaku's manga panels and see if there's something to add here. If it gets addressed, I don't remember it being in the manga. But like I said, I'll check, I'm unfamiliar on this.

Not exactly sure why this is always used as a criticism towards Hashirama. Once you're a leader of the people, they're your responsibility. And if your family/friends cause any trouble and put the lives of thousands others you're responsible for on risk, you must choose. I don't remember Hashirama saying he'd kill a child, but that if it were his own child. Again, this is Shinobi world, and some kids can be more dangerous than the adults. Madara was involving innocent people in his mess. Hashirama had every right to protect the people who had put their faith in him.

In reference to this line:

It's never stated directly in these Hashirama flashbacks, but we eventually learn that Madara came back to the village with the Nine-Tails solely to challenge him with the (as we, the reader, know) hidden intent of harvesting some of Hashirama's DNA (biting his flesh) for his new 'dream' plan. Madara also doesn't deny it, though, when Hashirama asks if Madara intends to destroy everything they've built together. As much as I enjoy Madara, I have no delusions that he can be a horrendous communicator lol. He is capable of opening up just a bit, like when he shows Hashirama the secret tablet that no other outsider has ever been permitted to see (ie. a big deal) after his doubts are beginning to mount about the village and its future. He literally reveals his doubts and uncertainties, opening up, only to then immediately clam up again (very confusingly, to Hashirama) when Hashirama asks for more clarification. Ah, in some ways this is making me want to examine the two of them as a struggle between show-don't-tell and the reverse, where Madara seems to prefer grand, revealing gestures but Hashirama appreciates more direct words - but alas, that's a post idea for another day.

Now, I can agree with you reminding us that it's the shinobi world and we know they operate with different principles and values... but on the level of examining what I consider Fugaku's unconditional love and Hashirama's implication here (and I interpret that line as him implying he would absolutely take the same actions he's taking with Madara, even if it were his son/brother/etc doing it) my personal take on it and what I relate to more is Fugaku standing by his son and refusing to battle him. I think you may see that as Fugaku foisting more guilt onto Itachi (I also don't want to put words in your mouth though), but I read it more as Fugaku trying to impart one final lesson that is encouraging Itachi to be prepared now that he will walk this new path alone. Similarly, I couldn't fathom killing my own child even if I knew they were doing wrong - so my interpretation of Hashirama's words here are to view them as cruel and cold. That doesn't mean you wouldn't remove said child from being able to cause harm in some way (you absolutely should) but to kill them is a step I can't imagine taking. In such a circumstance (though I imagine I'd hopefully never be in one lol) I think I'd take Fugaku's approach.

All of that, at the end of the day, is pure personal opinion and perspective influenced by diverging values and life experiences. It's absolutely okay for others to disagree here, this post is merely my interpretation of what we have in the manga along with critique regarding fan portrayals that I believe fail to offer nuance to Fugaku/Hashirama regarding these perspectives. I haven't been around long enough in this tumblr space to know why it's 'always' used, but I'd be eager to see other interpretations/sentiments on it. That moment has always stayed with me.

100% Fugaku's fault. He wasn't supposed to use his son as a weapon. He should have talked to the Hokage instead of using Itachi. The oppression was wrong but Fugaku took his vulnerable child and exposed him to extreme violence. Leave aside the fact that he didn't even think of the consequences of the coup.

So, again, I'm a bit lost regarding the 'consequences of the coup' and which panels he mentions he's just going in blind, full-speed ahead everything else be damned? The truth is we never get to see (at least in the manga) if they were ready to ahead with the coup. Danzo, an incredibly biased voice, believes they could take out the Uchiha easily and preemptively. Perhaps they could, but we don't know because Danzo violated the Hiruzen's call for diplomacy, gave Itachi a ridiculous choice, set his own immediate timetable, and went for it anyway.

I really don't vibe with the implication that Fugaku is solely at-fault for his people's own genocide... especially with the oppression and discrimination they were facing. In the panels (and sadly we only really get Sasuke's, Itachi's, and a bit of Obito's POV on the night of the massacre - all of whom are likely, in some way, biased), I don't see anything where Danzo's preemptive rush against the clan was warranted. Planning is not doing - oh, it's still a crime in the eyes of the government, but we were never past the point of no return (ie. actual action) regarding this supposed coup.

Also, if we're granting more weight to the shinobi world and its structure (which I think makes sense, you're right) then we need to acknowledge that Itachi was always going to, unfortunately, take part in the system of violence. Kakashi is also extremely young when he is thrust into the shinobi world and bogged down with horrific responsibilities. The case of Itachi and Kakashi being far too young for the violence expected of them is actually revealing of how flawed Konoha is and how bastardized it became from Hashirama/Madara's initial dream. To them, Konoha was meant to be a place where their younger brothers wouldn't have to fight, where kids could be kids... yet more wars continued where child soldiers were demanded, children were tasked to contend with deadly engagements (including the state-sanctioned chunin exams), even in Boruto (lol) this shit is STILL not fixed. Throughout the story we repeatedly see that the village is a hypocritical mess built on a faulty foundation that constantly fuels the 'cycle of hatred' it claims to fight against. It's a broken state that creates tragedies like Itachi and Sasuke. It destroys people like Kakashi. Their world is a very cruel one.

Now, I think you're really going to dislike this comparison but I think it's interesting that this concept of 'Fugaku taking a vulnerable child and exposing him to extreme violence' in an effort to prepare him for the harshness of the world and make him 'stronger' is quite literally what Itachi tries to do to Sasuke. So, if we grant that Fugaku is also a product of this corrupt, violent state and he knows said state discriminates against people like him and we also task him with being both a clan head that must operate for the village (Chief of Police) and for his clan (the Uchiha who are being oppressed) while additionally traumatizing him with wars and baggage of his own (that we don't quite know the details of, but is implied) and then, after all that, ask him to be a 'good' father and raise his sons so they can survive in such a world... idk, it's a pretty tall order, right? And now let's go a step further, we then have Itachi who similarly mimics these difficult circumstances (bearing multiple, very heavy responsibilities to diverging entities), is also traumatized and mentally unwell, wants desperately to protect his younger brother out of love but doesn't really have a 'healthy' (or what we could consider healthy in our world) example to pull from beyond what he personally endured/experienced... we then finally come to the case of Sasuke who is forced to bear Itachi's torture that mentally and emotionally scars him for life.

We know that Itachi believes this was the right decision, that Sasuke had to become strong to survive and THIS is how Itachi understands survival. The torture that sought to change Sasuke from what he was at his core (an innocent, kind child) came from Itachi's perception of love and the tools/knowledge he had at his disposal within his limited circumstances (though if we can play with the idea that Fugaku could have found a way to stop the coup, maybe, I think we can also play with the idea that Itachi could have found a way to not violently torture Sasuke and utterly devastate his life). I've never said that Itachi isn't also traumatized and a victim of the shinobi system, he absolutely is, but in some ways I believe there is a cycle of violence being passed down that is framed (by the characters) as a way to 'prepare them for the reality of their world' and they do so out of a sense of love... and, in that, Itach is both a victim and a perpetrator of grave harm.

To us, the reader, this is all very nasty on every level. Again, I never said Fugaku was perfect (not by any means) and I don't think Itachi is evil or anything, I really like his scenes with Sasuke and the layers of tragedy they hold - I think they're all (Fugaku included) victims of the corrupt rot that runs through Konoha and began at its foundation.

Oy, but I've probably gone on too long now. I felt these points were worth clarifying. Apologies again for not being well-versed on Itachi-Shinden... if it really is so revealing, I wish those scenes you're alluding to had been included in the OG manga so we'd know about them!

I guess I'll grant that some of this may have been a bit of 'Fugaku defense squad' lol, but I am really just trying to help frame him based on what we see in the manga. This also isn't meant to dog on Itachi or Hashirama... they're both good, complicated characters in my opinion. Ultimately, I personally think Fugaku's final moments with Itachi are filled with compassion and what I view as unconditional love from a parent. Others might not see it that way and I think that's fine. As for Hashirama, I think weighing the state over your closest friends and own family is pretty damn cold and not something I agree with morally, but again... it's individual. This is how I take these scenes.

Hm, been contemplating these panels lately and thinking about which character is constantly demonized within the fandom/fan works involving them and which is frequently viewed as the ultimate loving and moral person...

And:

One is a man bearing the supposed 'Curse of Hatred' who loves his children so much that he is continuing to parent and offer unconditional love to his son even after said son has already participated in the brutal state-sanctioned genocide of their people/culture and is about to end his (and his wife's - who, btw, is on the same page as him) life.

The other is a man from the supposed 'Clan of Love' who boldly holds the conviction that he would cease his compassion towards even his own child if they stood against him and his dream (the village), regardless of the fact his dream (the village) is a corruptible entity that does not maintain personhood.

Interestingly, I think there is something to be said for the fact both Fugaku and Hashirama are also shown struggling to understand Itachi and Madara (respectively).

Fugaku is actually quite honest regarding his issues in relating to Itachi and while we're not always privy to all the conversations they've had about the state of the clan/sentiment of the Leaf village towards their people, it's clear that those discussions have been had. While the panels where we do see more explicit conversations taking place show Fugaku reiterating to Itachi that his role in ANBU is to serve as a pipeline between the clan/village (which could be argued as an unfair burden foisted onto a child, in my opinion) there are also moments that indicate Fugaku is willing to defer to Itachi (at least on some topics) when his son offers a contradictory viewpoint (like attendance at Sasuke's entrance ceremony, for example).

Side note... this also reminds me of the very short (unfortunately) interactions we see between Madara and his father, Tajima. Tajima clearly respects his son as well and defers to him when Madara insists that they not fight Hashirama and his family on the river - Tajima accepts this from his son without pause.

Alternatively, we also see Madara trying to explain his perspective to a skeptical Hashirama before he commits to taking more drastic actions. Madara is trying to articulate his frustrations with what is happening in the village/how it is progressing with regards to his clan and (even though we never really get Madara's own unfiltered perspective on this time period) we are shown instances of Madara's grievances holding water (ie. Tobirama advocating for Madara not to be made Hokage, but instead pushing randomly for a democratic system that never seems to actually be cemented or made precedent within the village afterwards but absolutely benefits Hashirama/the Senju in the short-run, Madara 'overhearing' Tobirama's continued bias against the Uchiha in private conversations between the brothers, Hashirama continuing to scold his brother -someone who had ample power within the system of governance since its inception- for his bias against the clan even when they're brought back via the edo tensei, etc). Hashirama tries to (weakly, in my opinion) defend the village status quo/way it is progressing and seems to want to better understand Madara, but isn't willing or is unable to go that extra mile for his friend - and, perhaps in some ways, Madara too was unwilling/unable to articulate himself in a more digestible way once their divergence of opinion on their shared village came to this new crux.

Ultimately, I just find it interesting that Fugaku, this character who is often portrayed by fans as a demon of hatred and cruelty, would (in reality) stand by his son even in his darkest hour, even as he is unjustly slaughtering their family, and continue to reaffirm that he is proud of Itachi/loves him - and this is directly counter to Hashirama who asserts he would absolutely kill anyone (including a child) that stood between him protecting that which he loves the most (the village).

And, of course, we also have this to chew on lol...

Sasuke explaining to edo Hashirama that Itachi inherited his 'Will of Fire' jingoism.

Mandatory disclaimer that Fugaku is not infallible and all the characters here (but Fugaku and Hashirama in particular) are their own people/the circumstances do vary (especially as one relationship is framed in the context of father-son and the other as two friends/peers)... I should also note that I still enjoy Hashirama as a character, I just think his flaws are often under-examined and that the hypocrisy inherent to the 'Will of Fire' philosophy/the Leaf Village (and by extension the shinobi world) is equally neglected especially when it comes to this fandom's love of tearing down the Uchiha to their worst traits/moments. But, man, something about these two panels and character portrayals in particular have just been eating at me the past few days, so I figured I'd try to work out some thoughts on them.

[little-paper-man]

Sketchy Ref of the main 3 Rozzum OCs from my fic Odd Moments because apparently i can't keep throwaway characters as just throwaway characters and i will, in fact, Get Attached.

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Fit. Where are you, Fit? Where are you, Fit? Where is my official gossip???

It's always very funny hearing Pac and Fit complaining when the other person hasn't logged onto the server yet, lmao.

[capcollector]

sorta companion piece to these doodles

something that’s crossed my mind in the context of deacon and bunny getting together/starting a family. how do you react when two ppl you really respect but maybe don’t exactly Love say they’re having a kid together.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[sirlancenotalot]

the fact that people still use the "no one would talk to a friend that way" "no one would grieve for someone like that if it was just platonic" etc arguments to prove a ship is canon is so annoying to me. yes i get it, we got queerbaited hard but where does it say that romance has to be higher than a friendship or no one said friends couldn't also be lovers or vice versa....? i normally say "popular media tropes that usually are for romance" when i talk about fiction but pulling a blanket statement like "NO ONE talks to a friend that way" is so invalidating to so much of our queer experiences. the beauty of queer friendship literally lies in the emotional fulfilment we get from our friends in a way that i don't normally see in cishet friendships for whatever reasons. so idk it's just been bothering me to see these kinds of posts every now and then. "you wouldn't do [x] for your friends" i would actually. i would sell my soul for them. i would kill for them and kill myself for them. i would do anything for my friends that i would do for a partner. the "proof" for a ship doesn't have to be by invalidating their friendship. also like aren't most of the ships so powerful when they're also each other's closest friends? do y'all not think of your partners as your best friends?

[alo-piss-trancy]

For research purposes: To those into omutsu/diapers, what kind of things do you look for/enjoy seeing in fics focused on that? Anything particular you want described in detail? Any aspects you feel are often overlooked or lacking? Words or phrases you love OR can't stand?

No judgement here, sexual or non-sexual answers are both equally important for this! I'm just in need of some perspectives! :3€ Though I am looking more for info about the diapers themselves, like wearing/having them put on or seeing someone else in them, what's appealing to you in fics about that. Not necessarily their 'use' (I'm able to picture and describe that well enough I think lmao).

[specific-dreamer]

cherrybomb fic is live !

it’s not about revenge tonight, no it’s only a matter of time

Summary: “Look, angel,” she says with a solemn voice. “I can’t promise that we’ll be together forever-“

“Why not?” he mutters. Then, shrugging, he adds, “I can. My mom has already given me her engagement ring. I'm just waiting for a good time.”

“What, really?” he nods.

No notes ! But here’s another excerpt! <33

He pauses momentarily, about to let her sleep in peace, before he gets red-faced and blurts out. “Can I just tell you something real quick?”

Cherry’s still for a moment, and then she sits up, digging an elbow into his chest. “Sure, angel. What’s up?” Almost pathetically, he gets a wave of butterflies in his stomach when she calls him angel, and he has to fight to keep a dopey grin off his face. He can’t see her all too well, but Bob’s positive Cherry has the most adorable bedhead. He’s heard her tired voice a million times before, but if he could, he’d bottle it up to listen to it a million times more.

[godblooded]

so like… controversial opinion but… if you agree there should be more female muses or lesbians… uhh… write them?