#people can call their children what they want

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

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fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

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comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant yn and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

[hazelcuttlefish]

Millions of women were miserable and died for generations. Millions of men were miserable and died for generations. Millions of children died, many of them before they could really be miserable and more after. The nuclear family is a modern myth that barely functions. Divorce is high because divorce is now legal, before you just had to stay in your miserable marriage and take whatever abuse was given until one of you snapped or died. Children are really hard to take care of. Growing a family in a failing economy trying to rely on just one income is going to get harder wnd harder. Trying to do so with just two incomes is going to get harder and harder unless we fundamentally change the system. Trying to “go back to the good old time” is largely an because of an inaccurate portrayal of history.

Legit learn about the history of Russia, or Iran, or other regimes. Learn about the history of womens rights around the world and those nations which have had a massive backslide in womens rights. Remember that no, just because you are in (insert western/Christian/other distinction nation here) you are not exceptional to the trends that led that nation where they are. (Many I admit suffered under colonialism which can be a distinction, but trends to ultra conservatism/“traditionalism” lead to the same place).

Reach out. Build community. If you can, treat these young people like they are being indoctrinated into a cult-

- do not attack them. Correct misinformation, especially in public spaces. Do not belittle, demean, or name call.

- offer support. Ask them what’s stressing them out so much that this seems like a good option. Listen. Try to provide nonjudgmental feedback. Try to offer alternative, actually actionable solutions if possible. The root issue is they feel lost and without support and desperately want that.

- try to be an open line of communication for them and ready to support any move away from the group or ideology.

- build community. Both among those not influence and those influenced, and accept those who have left, are trying to leave, or are questioning.

All of those things can be very difficult if you don’t have all of that in you it’s ok. Do what you can when you can.

If you absolutely can not stand it focus effort elsewhere, ignore specific members. If you must confront it: Focus on leaders, focus on on the ideas and provide evidence to the contrary. Support those who are doing the above work.

The alt-right's foothold into Gen-Z is frustrating and I can see from over here how they're doing it.

You've got a generation of young-adults who are learning to be adults for the first time and for so many of them it sucks. It sucks to be in your first shitty apartment where things break, and to have your first shitty car that needs maintenance, and to be working a low-paying service or retail job where you get berated all day and barely scrape by. And you go home and you have taxes to figure out and electric bills to figure out and a screen on your phone to rot into to destress.

And this is men and women, equally, in this spot. But the alt-right messaging gets to tailor their approach to gender.

And hey women, yes you working a shitty job for shitty pay, overwhelmed by financial responsibilities and car repairs, what if you actually didn't need to do ANY of that? You don't need to. And you don't need to feel guilty about it. (You're not quitting, you're not being lazy), you actually are just embracing the chance to be exactly who an ideal woman should be. You should actually be beautiful, and demure, and barefoot in a sunny kitchen, glowing, pregnant, hearing the joyful sounds of your children while you bake a roast for your wonderful husband (strong, protective, loves you, handles the finances, handles the jobs, handles all the things you hate). OUR ancestors (don't mind the dogwhistle) did this for GENERATIONS, and modern society has failed you instead!

It's offering to break women out of all the parts of their real life that suck, and do it in a way that promises they're actually being better, being more admirable, more moral, more respectable, more correct, can feel good about, can feel proud about, as a Woman as Feminine as Mother as Goddess.

And the thing being promised does not need to actually reflect reality. It's a fantasy. It is not real. For every "beautiful demure barefoot" day, you'd be having another one covered in shit changing diapers of screaming infants with screaming children while your husband ignores you because it's Women's Work (take pride!) But that doesn't matter. It just needs to sound better than the reality they're living.

Then the men are targeted too. And it's the same in that it's getting to them by appealing to pride in their gender, but the messaging is different. It's "those finances are hard but ACTUALLY you're leveling up, you're grinding, you're finance maxing." It's hard but it's the kind of hard that is a challenge you can WIN at, boast about, post about, prove your manliness. Knowing cars, knowing home repairs, knowing taxes, that's your MAN pride, and you are so elite, you are so sigma, you are the envy of everyone, you are a masculine man. Women love you. Women will defer to you. Strong, respected, moral, loyal, unshakeable. Unlike those pansy men (mind the homophobic dogwhistling) who will whimper and cry like girls. You are better.

The shitty retail job is actually humble beginnings because you're minmaxing your way to financial success (bitcoin, crypto, investments). You can sleep with any woman you want as long as you're confident, and then you'll find one who understands how smart and confident and strong and protective you are and she will defer to you as her man. She will birth your children and teach them good morals and you will make it. Our ancestors lived this way for generations (dogwhistle) and modern society took it from you.

And with that messaging it makes it clear who the enemy in all this is - modern society that has convinced women to torture themselves with high education and terrible jobs, turned them Ugly with Ugly opinions and bad hair and nasty attitudes, yelping about "rights" and "equality" (pitting them against men! TAKING things from men!) All the while, society has been trying to emasculate men--replace them with women, make them soft and emotional, make them gay, make them WEAK. We've been made WEAK.

The naive women hearing this go "I'm not ugly! I don't hate men! I DO hate my job and my finances. I've been tricked. I'm actually rebelling by declaring my goal is to get a Perfect (White) (Christian) moral husband who will make all our decisions and protect me and our children." (And when she's financially trapped in an abusive marriage...? When she's suicidal with PPD but her husband won't touch that because it's Woman Hysteria...? And when her husband leaves her for someone who was as hot as she was 20 years ago and now she's figuring out finances, health care, taxes, bank accounts for the first time in her life...?)

And the men go "They've been TAKING things from us for too long! It's time to be men again! It's time to take pride! I am strong and confident. I am in charge! I never show weakness!" (And when he's got a gun to his head due to the depression he's never been allowed to talk about as Women Feelings...? And when he's financially ruined from a crypto scheme that stroked his ego and robbed him blind...? And when he's dead from alcohol poisoning and none of his adult children notice because no one's spoken to 'Dad' in 15 years...?)

And it's so hard to fight because you're arguing against a fantasy. How do you disprove their fantasy? It's so hard to explain to them, hey you're working a shitty job where you have no future because the rich bastards took it all from you. And now you're doing their work for them. You hate society because of what they've done to it and now you're doing their work. Now you're targeting groups who've never done anything to harm you and the guys responsible are laughing to the bank. How do you explain? How do you disprove fantasy?

[keferon]

Oh what if Jazz & Prowl run into Shockwave & his army of armed children

Mer raised by humans meets humans about to be raised by a mer

Oooh what if the kids recognise Jazz from some viral video of when Jazz was a kid, what if they happen to have it saved to their phone & show it to them & Prowl losses it because that's a video of baby Jazz clearly in distress asking what's going on that then smash cuts to a video of a teenager Jazz preforming some tricks

………….help. HELP. THE POTENTIAL THIS IDEA HAS

LISTEN

Shockwave not only learns human language but also teaches his kids to speak Mers right???

What if. LISTEN. What if by the time they meet Jazz and Prowl they can somewhat understand basic words and simple sentences? And like??

Skids looks at Jazz and immediately goes like WAIT I KNOW YOU! YOU’RE THAT ORCA MER FROM THE COMMERCIAL!

And all the kids are so excited because Jazz is kinda sorta popular and there’s A LOT of cool and cute videos of him on the internet. People do adorable edits with him, photoshop hearts and flowers on his head, add funky music and talk about him being just so uwu~ Happy cutesy little guy🩷🌸💕

Except when they open the video to show it to Prowl and Shockwave it’s not the same as it was before. Because now they can actually understand what he’s saying.

…..I. Haha. I just want that moment of realisation for them. Like. They hit the play button and it’s literally the video of a child who keeps calling his family and asking for help because he’s lost and doesn’t understand what’s going on but he wants his mom back. And all the people around him are like “look at this little cutie:3 Teeny tiny orca baby:3 No thoughts head empty 🥺Squeaking like a toy UwU”

I think Prowl would be constantly one inch away from committing murder. He would SO hate all the humans. He would fucking despise them.

On a separate note. Imagine Shockwave being somewhat calm about sea monsters and mutants and stuff but immediately tensing up when someone says there’s “black-n-white fish people” in the water. Because orca mers despite everything are still apex predators~

[niwaart]

Hiii i really love your writings can you please give us more of the doctor reader pleaaase🙏🙏🙏🙏

Doctor! Male! Reader X Batfam

[Part1 - Part2 - Part3 - Part4 - part5]

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Bruce has a severe headache, and the family dinner turns into a family war. Damian and Tim try to kill each other, Dick passes out on the floor, Jason and Stephanie die laughing while filming Tim and Damian fighting and filming an unconscious Dick, Cass helps Alfred gather edible food before Tim and Damian destroy it while Duke tries to talk them out of the fight, and Y/N tries to salvage the remaining food (cake) and puts it in her bag. How did this all start?

It all started when Y/N arrived at Wayne Manor, before pressing the bell button he made sure he packed everything he would need today in his bag. What did he pack? He packed several things, first the pepper spray, why? Because what if they accused him of stealing? Or decided to lock him up inside the creepy mansion?... Well he knows he's exaggerating and the reason is because of the series he watches but there's no time for regrets. Second he packed papers proving that he's an adult and can live on his own and has a good salary and job, and third he has lollipops, why? Because he's sure his father is evil to the point that he won't serve candy and cakes early... So Y/N is ready, he was going to take the hospital scalpel but Sammy stopped him and beat him up for that idea... But that's okay.

Y/N took a deep breath, pressed the bell button and waited for someone to open the door, as he expected and saw in his TV series the butler opened the door!... He should really expect from watching those TV series... "Welcome Mr. Y/N, please come in, Mr. Bruce is waiting for you." Alfred stepped aside to let Y/N in, Y/N entered with closed eyes... Why is the house glowing from the inside? Did they buy the sun or something?... Y/N made a note to himself to take sunglasses with him next time... He was sure that if he got out of here alive that meant there would be a next time... Y/N followed Alfred into the dining room, as he walked behind the butler Y/N was looking at the paintings, Bruce and his children... Why are they all wearing black in the pictures? Y/N didn't think much about it, all he wanted was cake... The world is hard sometimes.

When they arrived at the dining room, Bruce greeted them in a formal suit and a bright smile with a model's pose... Y/N wanted to leave now. Bruce approached him with the same smile "Hello son, glad you came." Y/N nodded "Yes, hello, Mr. Wayne." Bruce frowned at Y/N's formal response "You can call me dad you know, no one here but family..." Y/N ignored Bruce's words and sat down in one of the chairs before they forced him to sit next to Bruce. Bruce sighed and sat down in his chair at the head of the table "Well, that's okay, maybe later. Now I want you to meet your siblings, not everyone is here yet but they will be soon." Y/N looked around the table, there were only two people who hadn't arrived... "First off, this is my son Damian." Bruce pointed at Damian, Y/N remembered all the pictures taken of Damian and Bruce, Damian didn't smile once... Creepy. "And this is Timothy." Bruce then pointed to Tim who nodded in greeting and said, "You can call me Tim." Y/N nodded and Bruce continued, "And this is my daughter, Cassandra." Cassandra waved and Y/N did the same. "And this is Duke" Bruce pointed to Duke who smiled shyly at Y/N and Y/N smiled back at Duke. Bruce then pointed to Stephanie who introduced herself before Bruce could. "Hi!! Oh my god, nice to finally meet you!! I'm Stephanie, you can call me Steph." Stephanie extended her hand to shake Y/N's who laughed at her enthusiasm and then shook hers in return. Bruce smiled as he watched his son integrate so seamlessly into the family. Timothy's plan to bring Y/N here via cupcakes was genius.

Maybe bringing chili pepper was a bit much, the family seemed pretty normal… except for the kid, he still looked scary to Y/N, if looks could kill, Y/N would be dead. “Well, time to serve dinner.” Alfred said as he brought the plates with Cassandra’s help. “Cake?!” Y/N said excitedly as he looked at the plates Alfred was holding. Alfred laughed and said, “No, dessert is after dinner, Mr. Y/N.” Y/N’s smile faded, he knew they would keep the cakes late… that’s why he brought the lollipops… He pulled one out of his bag and it caught Damian’s attention. “Aren’t you going to eat Alfred’s food?” Those were Damian’s first words to Y/N and he felt the tone was familiar… Y/N didn’t think much of it, the point was to answer the kid before he choked him. “I came for the cake, so I’d rather keep my stomach empty for dessert.” Y/N said as he put the lollipop in his mouth.

Damian raised an eyebrow at Y/N's words and everyone at the table turned their attention to Y/N who felt like he was in exam class. "We know you love cake but we didn't expect it to be this bad." Stephanie said with a playful smile and Cassandra nodded at her words. Y/N said nothing as he looked at his plate, his pasta... well it looked delicious... but he still wanted cake first. So he pushed the plate away from him. "Can't I have cake now?" Y/N looked at Alfred sadly. But Alfred has strict rules, no dessert unless you eat the main course first. Y/N sighed and looked at his father... then a brilliant idea came to him.

“Dad… can you help me with my plate?” Bruce who was about to choke when Y/N called him dad, looked up from his food to Y/N… Y/N was looking at Bruce with big sad eyes. Bruce was confused… he didn’t know what to do, because his children had never looked at Bruce that way before… in fact no one had… he wasn’t trained to handle this “Okay, I’ll eat your plate.” Bruce sighed in defeat and took Y/N’s plate. Stephanie, Duke, and Tim laughed at Y/N and Bruce’s actions. “Oh man, I can’t believe you made B do what you ordered!” Duke said looking at Bruce who now had two plates and Y/N who was smiling proudly at his great accomplishment. Damian was watching Bruce in shock. Had his father just given in to the demands of someone who had come to the mansion for the first time in his life? No way... Then Damian looked up at Y/N... He should be careful of him in the future, he wouldn't let him take the Robin suit.

While everyone was asking Y/N about himself and his job, he heard the door open, Y/N turned to the door to see two people… oh Bruce’s sons. “Sir Jason, Sir Richard, you’re late, please sit down so I can serve you dinner.” Alfred said who immediately went to the kitchen. “Thank you Alfred. Sorry for being late, but Jason is not an easy person to bring here.” Richard said smiling cheerfully as Jason sighed as he sat down lazily in his chair. “I didn’t want to waste Alfred’s food, that’s why I came.” Jason said aggressively, Jason was sitting next to Y/N who was now terrified. Jason was huge… to his right was Damian who was terrifying enough… and now to his left sat a huge man who could crush him in seconds… reminding him of Red Hood whom he had met before…

Richard had been excited all morning to meet his big brother, finally he wasn't the big one anymore, he could be pampered... Richard approached Y/N from behind while Y/N was distracted by Jason and hugged him from behind which startled Y/N who screamed in horror and hit Richard's head hard, Richard fell unconscious from the headbutt and at the same moment Y/N accidentally pushed Damian's arm causing Damian to throw his spoon in Tim's face... Tim got angry and threw his spoon at Damian who decided to wage war on Tim, he was angry enough that day. Jason and Stephanie burst out laughing and took out their phones. Alfred had already set out a few plates of cupcakes. Y/N wasn't focusing on the trouble he caused, he was focusing on the cupcakes... He had to take the cupcakes, he got away from Damian and Tim who decided to wrestle on the table, Y/N moved to the other side of the table, where the cupcakes were. And he started to collect the plates, since no one was sitting now, Stephanie and Jason were filming Tim and Damian, documenting Richard who was lying on the floor unconscious while Duke was trying to separate Damian and Tim from each other, Y/N asked Alfred for cupcake containers for the cupcakes, Alfred didn’t hesitate to get them, Y/N immediately took the containers and started to grab the cupcakes so he could leave quickly, Cassandra was helping Y/N collect the cupcakes and keep the food away from Damian and Tim. Bruce stood up to stop Damian and Tim who were literally about to kill each other and Duke who gave up and left them while Y/N collected all the cupcakes, but he still needed to apologize to Richard, so he took the lollipop out of his bag and put it in Richard’s pocket then ran out of the dining room as fast as he could with a bag full of cupcakes. He did it! He left alive!

Bruce sighed as he looked at Y/N out the window, then turned to Damian and Tim angrily while Alfred was cleaning the table and Cassandra was trying to wake Richard up, Stephanie and Jason were sharing pictures of Barbara who couldn't come and editing the videos to make them funnier. "That ended badly tonight." Bruce said in frustration... "But it's okay, there's definitely next time." Jason laughed at Bruce's words and replied sarcastically, "Oh yeah, next time will be more fun."

Bruce sighed again and sat back in the chair thinking of a new plan to bring his son here, and keep him here forever this time.

@roxy776699 @missmannequin @theultimatezazasniffer @chericia @mybones537 @thegothamsiren

[tuffdwightwest]

Doey x Player

First of all I don't really ship any of the x Poppy Angels ships. Cause frankly I'm asexual and I find I can't personally seperate myself enough from the player character yet. I wanted to make this cause I was seeing a lot of frankly cruel call out posts.

This is not pedophilia. Or disgusting.

The idea that Doey and the other toys don't age is a headcanon. To assume your headcanon is correct and then demonize others. Is put simply wrong. This isn't FNAF they aren't children souls. Their organs are literally taken out and placed into another body. The whole point is that they are 'living' toys.

You are fine to have that headcanon though. But you should not use it to attack others.

For Doey specifically I see people call out his mental breakdown at the end of the game. As evidence that he's 'still a child'. This however is not evidence. It is a mental breakdown from someone who has something almost similar to DID(obviously a more sci-fi version but the closest irl thing I can compare it too). In his breakdown he wasn't even making any sense. Repeating lines we've heard him say over the years. Crying out that he wants to go home.

These are all normal things that can happen in a mental breakdown. Actually learn about trauma triggers and read stuff about it. Doey regressing and just letting Kevin's anger take over is pretty normal for someone who just went through as much trauma as he did.

Besides this point though people say he talks like a child. And I really want to understand where. Throughout the story he seems very rational and reasonable. Even the brief moments that Kevin and what I assume Jack takes over.

Even Doey's last tape before the end of the game. He's scared there but seems like someone just trying to figure out what to do. Nothing about it made me think he's a child.

All this aside, I want to use this just for people to realize. The "they don't age" is a headcanon. They need to eat, sleep, etc. So why do you believe they don't age? This doubling down on this headcanon especially using his breakdown as evidence just seems ableist. Cause I've seen other people not even myself try to explain to others that using that evidence point is ableist.

I doubt this would change those in that echo Chambers mind. But for others that just never really thought about it. I hope this just makes you realize. Yeah either version is just a headcanon. And neither is Canon at the moment. What we do know for sure is that at least 10 years has passed since the hour of Joy. And Doey was made before that. Long enough to witness the guards making toys fight, to be through plenty of interviews, etc.

So by evidence of just time itself. He'd be like at the least 18-25(with the assumption Jack was 8 when he fell into the dough). And this is actually a low estimate cause it assumes that the hour of joy happens soon after he is created.

Stop calling people pedophiles over a headcanon and frankly pretty tame ship. Like ya'll scream about this one then turn around and praise the doctor one. When Doctor is clearly a sadistic childkilling monster. But you give that one a pass. Yet get upset at people when they want to date like the one person in the game that was genuinely kind and a protector.

Stop attacking other people over headcanons. You can debate them but pedophile should not be flung around at all.

Thank you for listening to my rant.

[agwitow]

"Rumours are always so exaggerated," the boy said with a wry smile. "Ma might've been a heroine, but it's been years since she wielded a weapon."

The old woman frowned. Her eyes scanned him, head-to-toe. "You're too young to be her son."

He smiled. "I suppose getting rid of all of those soldiers and mercenaries stopped rumours from spreading about her other children."

"Other children?"

"I'm the third, ma'am, with two younger after."

"Huh." The old woman studied him again. His auburn hair wasn't a common colour, nor were the golden eyes, but the shape of his face, the way his smile lilted to one side, and how his eyes sparked with silent laughter were all-too-familiar. "Who is your father then?"

"The same as all my siblings. Ma and Pa are still as much in love as when they first ran off together."

"Huh..."

He chuckled. "Seems the rumours don't give any thought to why Ma ran off in the first place."

She smiled in return. "Seems so, lad. What brings you down this way?"

He scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "Normally Ma and one of my sisters come by to get the supplies, but it's the littlest one's first moulting, so Ma didn't want to leave her. And the oldest two are away right now, so that leaves me."

"What about your father?"

"Ah... People tend to be frightened when they see him. Last time he went, we had mercenaries coming by for months. He was especially annoyed by that, as Ma was pregnant with the littlest one."

"Well, suppose it's for the best, then, that you came instead. Have you gotten everything you need?"

"Well... if you'd be so kind as to point me to where Missus Deirdre is laid, I need to lay the offering out before I head back."

She nodded. "This'll be your first time visiting your grandmother. I can take you there."

"Oh! You don't have to go to such trouble on my account! Just tell me where and I'll find my way."

"Nonsense. Deirdre was a dear friend. It's only right I show her grandson the way myself." She accepted no other refusal and called for one of her own grandchildren to mind the store while she was away.

It wasn't far, not after the distance he'd traveled to get there, but it stood apart from the little village in a copse of trees on a small hill, lifted just high enough that the sea was a thin, silver-blue shimmer on the horizon. When he'd paid his respects, he placed the palm-sized honey-oat cake on the stone marking her resting place.

"You'll be heading back then, I presume?" the old woman asked.

"Yeah. It's best not to linger too long."

She nodded slowly, her brows pinched as she mulled something over. "Lad, you let your mother know that those of us who still remember don't blame her a whit for turning down the king. Tell her Old Gwen misses her. She, and all of you, are welcome to come back. And even if your father's a frightening man, we'll get used to him in time."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll let her know. Though... Pa is a bit more than just 'frightening' for most."

"Ah... a Northern Barbarian, then?"

The young man laughed. "No. Even they are scared of him."

She gaped at him in disbelief. "How can that be? The Northern Barbarians are the fiercest fighters for six kingdoms around! They only fear growing weak, the restless dead, and their gods!"

"There's one other thing they fear," he replied.

"Lad, there hasn't been a dragon in these parts for over a century."

"Well, I suppose that means the Northeners don't spread rumours much. Pa will be pleased to know."

She sputtered her shock. "Wha- b- wh... how?"

He shrugged. "They met while Ma was still doing all the heroine things. When the king wanted to marry her, they ran off together."

"But... that would make you..."

"A dragon-spawn? Aye."

Fear lit in her eyes and she took a step back. "I've meant no disrespect, goodsir."

He sighed. "You needn't treat me any different. I'm still Brianna's son. Deirdre's grandson."

She shook her head, hands trembling. "How could I dare?"

"This is why my sisters went adventuring with the Northeners in hopes of finding husbands. Just 'cause we've got scales and a second form doesn't mean we aren't people."

"Dragons are second only to the gods."

"Right..." he smiled sadly. "I'll ask you kindly to not spread it around, about Ma, Pa, and my siblings."

She nodded quickly. "Of course, goodsir! I'll not tell a soul."

"... Thanks." He paused, frowning, then pulled something out from inside his tunic. He pressed it into her hands. "Take this. You were kind and treated me well, even though I was a stranger."

"What is it?" she asked, opening her hands to stare at the orange-yellow rounded triangle. It was cool to the touch, like metal. The top side was as rough as stone, while the underside was smooth and pearlescent like the inside of a shell.

"A token. And a promise. I'll not cause you any harm."

Her eyes widened. "Is this one of your scales?!"

He scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. "Aye. Did I do it right? Pa said offering a scale as a sign of friendship had to be a serious thing, but it's just one of the scales I kept after my last moulting."

"I've done nothing to deserve such a thing!"

He shrugged. "Well now, isn't that for me to decide?"

She stared at him, emotions swirling across her face too quickly to pick them out.

"I'll be off now. And I'll tell Ma to stop by and say 'hello' the next time she comes out for supplies," he promised. "Until then, take care, Missus Gwen!"

With that, he turned and headed off. She could only watch his retreating back in shocked silence. Once his figure was little more than a distant blot of auburn, she turned to the grave of her friend. "I always said Brianna was a troublemaker, but who knew she'd run off with a dragon!"

"So where are you from, young man?"

"To the north, by the sea." "That's a good joke, lad. The only building there is that old cottage. They say some heroine gave birth to an illegitimate heir there and kills any man or beast that walks within a mile of the place. Killed the king's army, they say."

[taeaura]

Thomas Hewitt | Possessiveness, Desperation, and Jealousy

Yeah...Thomas has attachment issues lololol

Thomas' possessiveness is really just a progression of his desperation. For example:

Stay with me, I don't want you to leave

Mutates into

You're my possession - Of that, my love, there really is no question

Okay, yeah, I'm using lyrics to get my point across, so what?

Because of his low self-esteem, Thomas gets jealous without realizing it. He's anxious about his potential future with his S/O, with constant worries surrounding abandonment and comparison.

What if you get hurt? What if you push too far, explore too deeply and find something you hate? What if turn to hate him? He can't have that. No, no, no, no, not here; Not now.

You really are his special someone. He's in love with you, his Momma'll make sure to tell you. Thomas' favorite thing is how sweet you are with him; Buttering him up with compliments {all of which you find to be true statements, though he disagrees}, and variations of physical affection. One thing that never fails:

"You're so handsome, Tommy."

Goddd, does it make him blush. He gets all giddy and shy - a bit aroused, depending on the situation.

What if that stops? What if when he finally reveals himself, you run away? You scream and shriek in terror? Is he really that ugly?

What if I make you feel sick?

That's a question he asks himself a lot. You're all he has {outside of the family}, and he plans to keep it that way {excluding potential future children}.

I explored this a bit in a previous post:

'You can't leave. I won't leave you leave - I have nothing. I'll prove to you how good I am - How good I can be, I swear. You can live with us on this farm, just like momma always dreamed of. You're not leaving me; Not after you've met momma, not after the countless times you've saved me from callous assholes out here. No - I couldn't..' -- He had to keep you. Keep you here; In the basement; In the barn; Maybe in a spare bedroom - His bedroom. It didn't matter. You could would not leave.

_____

At the root of his issues, Thomas is a scared, concerned, insecure man who's been starved of proper connection. Healthy, reciprocated emotions that don't burn out when he does something wrong. Once he's found someone worth opening up to, he'll treasured them. After years of believing they'd never meet, here they are.

Are you an angel? Have I been rewarded?

Or has the Devil sending one of his succubi to ravish me down to the rings of Wrath and Ptolemaea?

Although Thomas' thoughts are not as religiously-driven as those above, he often treads in waters of similar questioning:

Do I deserve this? - Am I being tricked? - They'll leave eventually..

--

Overtime, his anxiety turns to desperation - And soon, that desperation turns into jealousy.

Someone could compliment you, and it'd set him off. Especially if it's a man. He's so scared you'll find someone better than him, and he's envious of how easy it is not only for you to interact with people, but how easy it is for them to interact with you. He wants to interact with you so badly! He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, how grateful he is for you {even if you two aren't in a relationship yet}. He wishes he was approachable - Not that he's comfortable with causal conversation, but he wishes it was plausible in his situation.

--

One afternoon, a {soon to be} victim complimented you; 'Called you 'attractive' in whatever fancy way they put it. You scoffed a bit, albeit amused, followed by a small 'thank you.' - Boy, Thomas couldn't've been more peeved. How dare you? After all he's done to make you comfortable? Really, this is how you repay him?

He had to take a minute to himself, realizing how irrational he sounded. How were you supposed to know the sacrifices he made? It's not like he could tell you..though he wishes he could, just so you would be proud of him.

After his anger calmed down, he was left guilty and worrisome - It wasn't anyone's fault. The stranger couldn't have known his feelings for you, and he doubted you're aware either. That being said, that 'charming' victim made a delicious dinner that night ;)

_____

Thomas thought he had his emotions under control, but he was greatly mistaken. Momma had sent you out to grab things from the {wilting} garden just a few minutes prior; You'd gained enough trust from her to be left unsupervised outside - Though, she kept tabs on you though the windows.

Thomas was just finishing up in the basement when he walked up to the main floor; Oddly enough, he was looking for you. One random evening {a day he couldn't quite remember}, he'd overheard you talking to Henrietta about a locket you had once - A dainty one that complimented your skin ethereally. One of the victims, a nice gal from out of town, had a locket similar to the one you described; And he planned on giving it to you.

As he searched around the home, he found no trace of you. His anxiety quickly picked up; What if you'd left? No, Momma wouldn't lose you that easily, you'd have to be somewhere. He made his way outside, carelessly throwing the front screen doors open, albeit a bit aggressive. After a few minutes of pacing, he finally found you in the garden - Just as you were supposed to be.

The knot in his stomach relaxed, just as his shoulders did. There you were: Safe and content. He clutched the locket within his right hand, the chain dangling from his stressed fingers.

Unbeknownst to you, Thomas stood a few feet away, just..staring. His mind raced with incoherent thoughts: Would you like the gift? What if you were confused, or even worse, disgusted? What if the locket wasn't to your liking? He was quickly pulled from his thoughts when you finally noticed him.

"Hi, Thomas." You acknowledged, he really was just some big, awkward hunk, huh? "Did you need something?"

He quickly shook his head, bringing his hand forward. He twisted his wrist so his palm could face upward, revealing the locket.

You wiped some sweat off your forehead with your dirt-covered gloves and stood up. Your knees had gotten a bit dirty, but your pants provided a solid-enough layer between skin and soil.

"Is this for me?" You naively asked. Of course it was for you, he wouldn't just hand something to you that he intended on keeping.

He nodded, slightly nudging his hand closer as if to say 'take it.' - Which you did.

"Might be a bit difficult to put on, the jump ring's a bit small."

Were you..asking him to help? Was that it? He wasn't too sure, but he took the chance anyway. He gently grasped the split chain, folding it cautiously around your neck. He fumbled a lot with the chains..he didn't know how to handle such a small mechanism despite his sewing hobby; But eventually, he connected the jump rings.

You adjusted the locket to your liking, turning to face him with a thankful smile painted amongst your face.

"Thank you, Tommy."

Oh god..there it was. You knew he liked being called 'Tommy', you must've. He felt teased, just a bit. Mostly shy, though. He swallowed and gave a small nod.

Gosh, you were gorgeous, at least he thought so. He wanted so badly to tell you - Just like that piece of shit victim previously had. Okay..they weren't that bad, but he didn't want to acknowledge that. His jealously started to fester again, soon overriding his yearning.

God fucking damnit, why do I have to be so restricted? He thought to himself, an anger bubbling beneath him.

"Are you alright?" You hesitantly asked, tilting your head just a bit.

Was he alright? No, he was not 'alright.' He felt silenced. Restricted in his own body. How hard could it be to tell you how much he liked that locket on you?

His throat strained, trying to make any sensible noise - Yet all that came out were gurgles and incoherent mumbles. He shook his head, obviously overwhelmed and fed up. Instead of straining too hard, he pointed at the necklace and nodded - He really did think you were the most beautiful creature in the word, the locket only amplified that.

"You like it?"

He nodded once more.

"Aw; Well, thank you, Tommy. That's very kind of you."

He nodded a final time, making a mental decision: You were never going to leave him. He'd do anything and everything to make you happy, including small things like this.

That piece of shit nobody couldn't treat you like I could; They'd only make you happy chopped up, seared, and served right at the dinner table.

He'd make sure that would never happen to you. That no one besides him or the family would make you laugh, cry, smile; Not like he could. You two would be one, one way or another - Even in death. He'd make sure of that.

_____

Boo lame boo 🍅🍅🍅

I'm not too proud of the one-shot but my brain isn't giving me anything different.

We will, however, get more possessive Tommy as I finished up pt. 2 of Proprietorial 😈

[moonzzip]

my song for you | prologue

a/n — I decided to make this mini-series in celebration of g-d's new album (and due to the lack of new stories these days), I've been busy and that's why I haven't been releasing any more stories, but I hope you like this one, I'll release the next chapter soon!

summary: your passion for music has always been something that kept you grounded, but soon you found yourself lost. your friend gets you into trouble, and you wonder if your wounds will ever heal.

pairing: jiyong x pianist!gn!reader

!warnings: mention of toxic family, bruises, blood, fainting

lowercase letters, w.c: 2,1k

nothing. nothing comes to your mind, nothing.

you play, play, and play the keys, but nothing forms.

the sound is empty, the melody is empty, the notes are empty, everything, absolutely everything is empty.

none of the forms give you feeling, never satisfied with what you're doing.

everything is bad, everything sounds bad, you don't feel like you're doing it right, nothing seems right.

your hands tremble, your fists want to clench, false notes, off-key sounds, your finger clicked the wrong key, your foot stepped wrong, you missed by a millisecond, you played two at the same time, you played none.

and you stop.

your breath is tired, frustrated, disgusted, agonized. your soul feels broken and empty, lonely.

that song that once made you happy no longer fills you.

you've been playing the piano for as long as you can remember. your family is a great pianist family, so you always had this obligation to know how to play. everyone in the family was considered a prodigy.

but not you.

you were slower compared to your cousins, took longer to understand compared to your aunts when they were children, didn't have the motor coordination of your mother or the speed of your father.

you were incomplete.

the scars on the top of your hand say it all, every little scratch, purple mark, dripping blood, silenced scream, cry, and sweat.

even so, you never felt anger toward them, your family.

much less hatred for the piano.

it was an object, it wasn’t its fault.

it wasn’t the piano that made your blood run, it wasn’t the piano that made your tears fall.

you used the piano as an escape, despite it having brought you misery.

anger rises to your head, your fists finally clench completely and begin to strike the instrument fiercely, horrible sounds coming out due to the aggression on the black and white keys, your screams scratch your throat, your body sore and tired, your mind full, yet empty at the same time, too messy, your already dried tears no longer fall.

you continue the attack for a while, until exhaustion almost wins.

you bite your lips so hard they bleed, your head tilts back, the blood running down your lips, your vision blurs, and your body falls back, staring at the ceiling as you let out a sigh, and everything goes dark.

your feet walk along the crowded sidewalk, your hands in furry, warm gloves, looking at your feet but still seeing ahead to avoid bumping into someone.

you stop at the edge of the sidewalk, now looking up, the cars passing at high speed, countless people on the other side and beside you. you sigh, hiding your face in your warm scarf, your eyes catching the large sign meters away from you: ‘galaxy corporation,’ and you sigh again.

what was your friend thinking? he called you out of nowhere, saying he needed you to come to the company where he works because it was urgent. what the hell could be so urgent that he needed your help? nothing comes to mind. your day had been going so well, you had slept reasonably well, and it was cold enough to stay under the blankets for as long as you wanted. just thinking about it makes you yawn, stretching your back, hearing a small crack, and adjusting your clothes, brushing off invisible dust.

well, here goes nothing.

the door opens automatically, the warm air hitting your face. you breathe in satisfaction and step inside—it’s well-lit and spacious—the door closes behind you. you take off your scarf and store it in your bag. there aren't many people, a small group and some scattered around, but nothing beyond that.

you wonder if your friend is waiting for you down here. you look around but decide to go to the reception.

“ah... excuse me?” the receptionist looks up and gives you a small but still gentle smile.

“hello! how can I help you?”

you try to return the smile, but it feels awkward, so you continue, “mr. kim jonghoon called me and asked me to come. could you check if he’s here?”

you could just call him, but this isn’t the first time jonghoon has called you out of nowhere saying he has something important to say, only to disappear when you try to call back. you’re not in the mood to waste your phone credits on him.

“ah! kim jonghoon-ssi? just a moment.”

you watch her pick up the fancy black phone and dial some numbers. it rings, and jonghoon answers almost instantly.

that bastard. he knew you wouldn’t come if he kept answering and responding to your questions. this man is getting too clever for your liking. you roll your eyes internally.

the receptionist is smiling like an idiot on the phone. jonghoon has a habit of flirting with people, but he could do that another time.

the sound of the phone being placed back on the receiver pulls you from your thoughts.

“he is in the building, yes. he’ll be here soon, please wait patiently.”

it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.

you look around and see an empty armchair nearby. it looks comfortable, so you sit down. you wonder if he’ll take long, then pull out your phone, looking for something to do.

ah... you should have downloaded some games.

would it be rude to put on your headphones? you think about it but take them out anyway, connecting them via bluetooth. you scroll through your spotify, maybe something by bigbang? lots of options, your finger hovers over a few, clicks one, skips, until you find one.

‘my heaven’ appears on your screen. ah... this song is so good. you remember watching the m/v when you were younger. you used to follow the group more closely. they were your inspiration to play that... thing. after a while, you just gave up on music altogether.

you sigh, looking at your hands, the scars hidden beneath the gloves, running from your elbows to your fingertips.

hours and hours, endlessly playing that thing, until your nails broke and your fingers formed calluses, or until you passed out. most times, that’s how it went.that leather whip was used on your delicate little hands, mercilessly, without pause.

you had always been a well-behaved child, never complained, never gave a reason for such methods to be used, but apparently, your difficulty in learning was reason enough.

always put down, always compared to everyone in your family—

"your aunt learned this in three days."

"your sister wouldn’t make a mistake like that."

"you never get this right on the first try. useless."

things like that.jonghoon only knows the surface. you never had the courage to give him many details, and you don’t plan to.

he understands. he never crosses that line, and that’s it.

you played so much, so much, participated in so many projects nonstop, took courses, tests, competitions, but never received a 'congratulations', never an applause. it was as if you were performing for no one.

but you never complained. as long as you liked playing, nothing could affect you.

until it did.

your thoughts are once again interrupted by a light kick to your shoe. it’s jonghoon.

(internally, you thank him for pulling you out of those thoughts.)

“hey, ___!”, he greets you excitedly.you look at him blankly before putting him in a headlock, muttering angrily,

“you bastard. you call me in the middle of the night, say it’s important, then ignore me? you know I have no patience for this, and you call me at 3 AM?? I’m going to kill you, kim jonghoon.”

he knows you’re really mad when you say his full name.

“a-ah, _-__, I can’t talk—”

you tighten your grip.

“your silence is starting to please me, jonghoon. you in a coffin would be even better.”

he taps your arm, and you loosen slightly.

“i-if you let me g-go, I c-can talk.”

you click your tongue and release him, crossing your arms.

“speak. before I change my mind and leave.”

he knows you’re not joking, so he hurries.

“so... I kind of... signed you up for a temporary job... playing piano for an artist’s production here.”

kim jonghoon was a dead man that day.

...or so you wish.

but here you were, sitting at a table with your friend in front of you. he bought you lunch, so you forgave him—temporarily. two days, you told him.

"jonghoon, you know i haven't played in three years. what the hell were you thinking!?" your voice rose slightly, laced with disappointment, and you didn’t hide it.

he lowered his head a bit, knowing what he did wasn’t right. "sorry, ___… i just wanted to help. seeing you in the same situation as three years ago makes me anxious. i hate seeing you like that at home, and—"

letting out a frustrated sigh, you ran your hands through your hair, elbows resting on the table. "this is something i'm working on, jonghoon. i know you want to help, but—" you stared at the table, eyes slowly filling with tears.

"it’s not something that heals just like that... i hate the piano. i hate my music. i hate my family. and i hate hating these things."

the man in front of you stood up and walked over, gently running his fingers through your hair. "look… i know what i did was wrong, but ___…"

he hesitated, and you looked up at him. "i know you don’t actually hate the piano. i know you don’t truly hate your music. it’s what lifted you out of where you were, ___. don’t say that, please."

you looked at him, anger flashing in your eyes. "kim jonghoon, don’t talk about things you don’t understand."

you stood from your chair, grabbing your things. "sometimes, you're just like them. you try to dictate how i feel. you don’t know anything. you shouldn’t have done this, and you know it."

you walked toward the door, ready to leave. "i’m not completely mad. i get that you want to help, but… just leave me alone. for a while."

just before you reached for the handle, the large door swung open. you took a few steps back as a man entered.

his colorful hair, cap with a scarf tied over it, yellow-tinted glasses, vibrant clothes, and perfectly painted nails made him stand out. he brought color into the dull, lifeless room—like a stylish rainbow.

jonghoon perked up, walking over to the man.

"jiyong-ssi! hey, how are you!?" he greeted the man enthusiastically, who smiled at him and bowed at a precise 90-degree angle.

"jonghoon-ssi, hello. i'm doing well. and you?" his voice was calm and deep, slightly raspy but steady. the more energetic man simply smiled and nodded in agreement.

you stood with your hands in your pockets, feeling a little out of place, glancing around.

the man with colorful hair noticed you in the room and fidgeted with his hands slightly but still greeted you. "you must be ___-ssi, right?"

you nodded with a small ‘yes’ and bowed at 90 degrees as well, polite. the man in front of you did the same. "i'm kwon jiyong. nice to meet you. i heard you’ve been playing piano for years—i’m interested in your work."

you stared at him for a few seconds, but before you could respond, jonghoon cut in. "ahh, ___ is definitely interested, jiyong-ssi! i told them about the job, and they rushed right over—you can trust me on this."

giving your friend a deadly glare, he continued undeterred. "the absolute best pianist in the world is standing right in front of you! i’ve never seen anyone like them—pure dedication! the music that comes from ___'s fingers takes me to heaven, seriously!"

you rolled your eyes at jonghoon’s exaggerated praises but stayed silent. he wasn’t going to give up on making you play again. you didn’t know how to feel about it—grateful or incredibly frustrated.

the more energetic man pulled you and jiyong by the arms, making you both sit at the table as he started talking.

"___, jiyong-ssi recently started producing his third solo album, something highly anticipated by his fans, of course. it’s not every day that g-dragon releases an album, and—"

ah.that’s why kwon jiyong seemed familiar to you.

the man sitting beside you was g-dragon.

you put your elbows on the table and buried your head in your hands.

what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

a/n – so, I wrote this while listening to gd’s ‘drama’, seriously, what a wonderful album, where I live it came out at 2 in the morning, but I woke up to listen to it, I don’t regret it one bit, thank you for the wonderful album gd, I have no complaints (and never have). thanks for reading! I’ll release part one soon, I think it will have at most 3 parts (not counting the prologue), but I can’t guarantee anything. feel free to correct any mistakes!

[captainkirkk]

✩ MONTHLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

The fics I’ve read and enjoyed for the month of February. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

DC (Batman)

Light A Match, Pull The Pin (You Are Not Who You've Been) by WakingNightmares

Part 2 of I've Given Every Piece Of Me (And I'm Breathing)

“Games,” Dick says softly. “He… he likes to play games. With your… with your head. He won’t…” He shakes his head a bit, some of the distance in his eyes fading. “He won’t come at you head on. That’s not… That’s not what he does. He wants you scared, first. Helpless. Knowing there’s nothing you can do. He… He calls it… softening up the target. So when he… when he actually shows up… they’re so afraid they… they panic.”

“And if he does…” Jason swallows. “If he does, you… there’s no way out. He won’t… If you fail, he doesn’t care. What you do. It doesn’t matter. He won’t stop no matter how much you…” Jason blinks a few times, and Roy’s fairly positive he’s trying to blink back memories. “He’s going to do what he’s going to do. You can’t stop him. He doesn’t care.”

Roy takes a deep breath. Let’s it out slowly, so it’s only an exhale, and not a sigh, because Jason looks haunted, and Dick looks blank.

Set immediately after Screaming In The Dark.

Captive Prince

Blood, Bones, Voice, Ghost by sunsmasher

Damen’s grip on his arm is painful. His face in Laurent’s is ashy and sheened with sweat.

He says, “There was something in my drink.”

(Damen is poisoned, Jokaste is framed, Laurent must find them an heir. He's put it off for so long already.)

Miraculous Ladybug

the art of living lies and a fine mingling of letting go by blueh

“Ms. Bustier,” Marinette says a little desperately. “I have been fighting akumas nonstop for the past twenty four hours, I’m running on seven expresso shots right now and I can barely read the words on the board. Can we please reschedule the test?”

Adrien doesn’t look up from where his head is buried in his arms but he waves a hand and says, “Agreed.”

Or: the world knows their identities, but life goes on.

Sewing Needles and Cat Paws by SailorChibi

Later, they agree that Hawkmoth did it on purpose.

But in the moment, Chat Noir can’t think that far. His head is pounding, possibly from a concussion, and he has just enough time to look into Ladybug’s scared blue eyes before the flash of light overtakes them both. Then, suddenly, he’s looking at Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the journalists around them are screaming. Their names, including Adrien’s real one, are so loud that it’s disorienting.

The Growing Pains Of Child Soldiers by BloodWolf13 (+ podfic)

What do the citizens of Paris do, when they realize that their heroes are literally growing up before their eyes? They freak the fuck out.

Or everybody realizes that the heroes of Paris are young teenagers and are a little (extremely) worried about children fighting a terrorist.

Yesterday was plain awful by zipadeea

"WHERE IS LADYBUG? The headlines scream Sunday morning, and Caline Bustier feels her stomach just drop."

After a terrifying akuma attack, Paris and its heroes are left reeling. All most people want is to know what has happened to their beloved Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette and Adrien just want to be okay.

Alternatively: Plagg has a whole lot of feelings, Marinette lies and says she's fine every other paragraph, and Adrien cries more in two days than he has in two years.

Miraculous Ladybug x DC

Bad news, Paris by BlueTee

Part 1 of Paris vs Gotham

Tim: @notTHATtim Are you parisians all right??? #onlyinParis Nathaniel Kurtzberg: @nathanielkart Replying to @notTHATtim hahaha no.

In which Nathaniel only wanted to pass some information but shenanigans issues and he ends up starting a twitter war.

Severance

Lay Me Back Down by EightMinutesToSunrise

Mark S. escapes Lumon and finds himself alone in an unfamiliar house. Or, not quite alone--his outie's with him.

Click. Click. by EightMinutesToSunrise

A few days after the destruction of Lumon and the innies' escape, Mark S. requests that his outie take their consciousness, and not swap back for anything. Not even (especially not) for their rebellion's firecracker leader, Helly Riggs.

From Lightswitch AU--a separate but related continuation of my fic "Lay Me Back Down."

As the Elevator Dings by Sdove

Breaking company rules is a form of self care. OR a story about the revolutionary act that is choosing to love yourself. OR the aftermath of the party and Mark S.'s role in it-- part character study, part plot, all angst, baby!

A Light In The Storm by Alooxis

Ever since the court order requiring that Lumon employees be provided with co-neural switches - a modified version of the overtime contingency device - Mark's world had become so much larger than he’d ever imagined.

Unfortunately, with a world of new experiences comes a world of new fears.

I.e.: Mark S. experiences his first thunderstorm. It does not go well. Thankfully, Devon is there to help.

[thatnightlamp]

warning: English is not my first language, I am very bad at writing in English so I will use everything I can to translate from my mother tongue to English.

You leaned against your rain-soaked car, take a deep drag on cigarette, the city stretching before you like an open wound. Nights like this, the weight of the years presses heavier on your shoulders. You’ve been chasing him for too long. Too many bodies, too many sleepless nights, too many moments staring into the abyss questioning yourself.

Konrad Curze. Night Haunter. The Boogeyman of Nostramo.

You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that no one believes he’s real, or the fact that you know he is. They call him an urban legend, a ghost story whispered in dark alleys and horror stories to scare children. A serial killer so precise, so methodical, that he leaves no evidence - only fear.

But you know better. You’ve seen his work. The crime scenes are a symphony of horror, every cut deliberate, every corpse an accusation. The media doesn’t see the pattern, but you do. It’s not random. It’s judgment. He doesn’t just kill - he punishes. Corrupt cops, abusers, untouchable criminals - every victim had it coming. Some people call him a necessary evil. You call him a monster.

And he knows you’re hunting him.

The first letter came three years ago. A single sheet of paper, crumpled and dirty, folded carelessly, slipped under your apartment door. No fingerprints. No DNA. Just a message, written in slightly shaky handwriting, the pen tip almost piercing the paper:

"You’re wasting your time. But I admire your persistence."

You should’ve stopped then. Maybe you should have walked away before he got into your head. Before you started understanding him.

Before you started dreaming about him.

The second letter came after your partner, Ronald, went missing. It wasn’t a warning, not exactly. Just another message, this time written in red:

"You should thank me."

You remember the way your stomach churned when you read it. Ronald was dirty, you knew that, he tried to flirt with you a few times and stopped after seeing you throw down a guy twice his size. But did he deserve whatever Curze did to him? And did it matter?

You clench your jaw and get in the car. There’s a lead tonight. An informant swears they saw something - someone - at an abandoned building on the west side of the city. You shouldn’t go alone, but you don’t trust anyone else with this.

The elevator is broken, of course, so you take the stairs, boots echoing against cracked concrete. The building smelled musty and moss grew everywhere, but you press on. The higher you go, the more the city lights vanish, swallowed by the dark.

And then you feel it.

That familiar prickle at the back of your neck.

He’s here.

The air is different, heavy with the weight of his presence. A shadow moves in the corner of your vision, just enough to set your pulse racing. You draw your gun, turning slowly-

"That won’t help you."

His voice is a whisper in the dark, but it cuts through you like a knife. Low, smooth, almost amused.

You don’t let yourself flinch: "Step into the light, Curze."

Silence. Then, a chuckle.

"And ruin the mystery? You have chased me this long, detective. Are you sure you want the hunt to end?"

You exhale slowly, steadying the grip on your gun. The air between you two is thick with something unspoken - dread, anticipation, maybe even fascination.

"Justice," you say, voice low. "That’s what you think you’re doing, isn’t it?"

A pause. A rustle of movement somewhere beyond the shadows.

"Justice?" His voice carries amusement, but underneath, there’s something else. "A pretty word. But tell me, detective, do you believe in it?"

You grind your teeth, scanning the darkness. "I believe in the law."

"The law~" He lets the word linger, stretching it like something fragile between his fingers. "Men in suits, selling morality to the highest bidder. How many times have you seen it fail?"

You don’t answer. Because you have seen it fail. Over and over again. Victims denied justice, murderers walking free. People like Ronald, rotting from the inside out but protected by a badge.

Curze hums, as if reading your silence. "I give them what they deserve," he says. "Do you?"

You grip your gun tighter. "You don’t get to decide that."

"And who does?" He steps closer - just enough for you to sense him, but not enough to see. "A system built on lies? A court that serves only those who pay enough? Tell me, detective… have you ever wanted to do what I do?"

The question hits too close. You have had those thoughts before - brief, fleeting moments where rage burned too hot, where you imagined pulling the trigger on the ones who got away.

But you never did.

"I’m not like you"

"Aren’t you?"

Something shifts in the air. A breeze? A trick of the light? Whatever it is, instinct kicks in. You lunge forward, boots scuffing against the cracked floor and-

But he’s already gone.

The sound of your own breath fills the space he left behind.

You curse, running down the stairs, bursting out into the night. But the streets are empty, the city swallowing him whole once again.

You should be angry. Frustrated. But all you feel is that lingering weight in your chest, his words burrowing deep where you don’t want them.

Because the worst part isn’t that he escaped.

It’s that, for a split second, you weren’t sure if you wanted to catch him.

---------------------------------

tag: @kit-williams

[hope-luvs-hrtstppr]

my tlt annotations! part two: Harrow the Ninth (by Tamsyn Muir) *spoilers ahead*

- “Nonagesimus, nobody is coming to save you. Not God. Not Augustine. Nobody.” (Muir, 15) starting off strong

- i love ianthe calling harrow “harry”

- “The past is dead, and they’re both dead, but you and I are alive. What are they? What are they, other than one more corpse we’re dragging behind us?” (Muir, 16)

- “Sometimes you would forget who you were, and at recalling yourself, weep like a child.” (Muir, 30) HARROWHARK GET BEHIND ME

- “‘And you shouldn’t call me God either,’ he said. ‘You don’t comprehend the word, and I don’t want to be God to you yet.’” (Muir, 39) ianthe and harrow are the first lyctors to become god’s hands after growing up worshipping him. augustine, gideon, and mercy have known him since the beginning. they understand that to worship god is to let him use you. that god doesn’t want ‘his hands’ clasped together in prayer, he wants ‘his hands’ balled up in fists. harrow must learn that from teacher before she can know him as god.

- “‘Ortus Nigenad died thinking it was the only gift he was capable of giving,’ you said, ‘and I have wasted it—like—air.’” (Muir, 45) GOOD GOD this hurts. griddlehark’s pseudo-lyctorhood is painful enough, but all the cavaliers that were fully absorbed by their necromancers?? pyrrah and gideon, cristabel and mercy, alfred and augustine. to be so devoted to someone that you offer your life on a silver platter so that they, your other half, can become full without you. jod when i catch you jod. jod when i catch you!!!! (not saying that all the cavs consented to being absorbed, just spiraling abt lyctors as a concept yk)

-the only reason harrow is alive is because “she had cost too much to die”. her life was never her own, it had always belonged to the 200 children of the ninth (plus the latest addition, gideon nav). she fights so hard to stay alive (despite her personal desires to die) because she’d be damned if she let the souls inside her die twice.

- “Love had broken her life into two separate halves: the half before she had fallen, and the half afterward.” (51) THE WAY GIDEON IS DESCRIBING HARROW’S LOVE FOR ALECTO BUT IT’S TRUE FOR HARROW’S LOVE FOR GIDEON TOO

- when harrow recalls that “There had been another girl who grew up alongside Harrow—but she had died before Harrow was born.” (54) she’s not wrong. pre-lobotomy harrow grew up alongside nav, and nav died before post-lobotomy harrow was born

- ianthe calling harrow a skull-faced fruitcake

- “You staggered over to the Body, standing so quiet by the wall, and you buried your face in her thighs.” (67) i’m picturing the “there goes my babyyyyyyy” pose

- THE EGGS YOU GAVE ME ALL DIED AND YOU LIED TO ME

- taking a moment to acknowledge that this series has vastly expanded my vocabulary. i would include a little word bank of all the words i had to look up in order to comprehend what was going on, but that feels too boring to subject other people to

- harrow’s brain conjuring the image of baby-nav’s corpse while in the river for the first time is so beyond fucked

- IS THIS HOW IT HAPPENS?????? (spoiler: it isn’t)

- ianthe looking down harrows robe at cytherea’s funeral is so classic ianthe

- the girls are fighting!!! (the girls being ortus and harrow in harrow’s dreams)

- “But when she was scared, she was a child again, and she was almost afraid of being a child again than anything else in her life. Almost.” (133) :(((((

- i feel like harrow’s the type to eat uncooked pasta

- can someone get harrow a tshirt that says “i heart my frozen corpse wife”

- “… because Ianthe was overfamiliar and frankly a pervert.” (161) LMAOOO

- “‘I want that sword,’ said Ortus the First. / ‘What?’ / ‘Give me her damned sword,’ said Ortus the First. / ‘You’ve already got a whole complement of oversized weapons, greedy.’” (191) this whole exchange reminds me of Schmitt at the aquarium demanding a lion fish (New Girl reference lol)

- “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.” (196)

- harrow may have repressed everything besides her beef with septimus lmao

- i like to think that the whole of tlt so far was just elaborate world building for the real story: a commentary on gun control (starring Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead)

- i have so little respect for g1deon. bro really attacked A NAKED TEENAGE NUN.

- harrow = that one snoopy picture that’s like “belly full of soup”

- “And the Saint of Duty lifted his cigarette to you in an unmistakable salute.” (235) oooh he’s so nonchalant

- the scene where harrow regrows ianthe’s arm feels like an inverse sex scene. like a reverse orgasm.

- “That first night in her bed, you’d placed your bone-dressed sword between you, and felt better…” (258) ah, yes. me, my gf, and her ex’s six foot two hander

- “You do know there are children present? Should I kill them, or what?” i love mercy so fucking much

- ianthe is so me, my first instinct when drunk is also to kiss the homies

- the question is: would harrow be so devoted to worshipping the locked tomb if ‘the body’ wasn’t hot?

- “Kill me all you like. I would know you in the blindness of my eyes…in the deafness of my ears…as a shadow smudged against the wall, annihilated by light…stop. Not here. Not now. Let it go, love. I just want the truth…after all this time.” (Muir, 291) HELLO?!??!??????!!?

- harrow when she runs into camilla on a planet she’s meant to kill: “my main goal is to blow up and act like i don’t know nobody heheheheh” (please tell me you get the reference)

- TASMSYN MUIR LET GIRLS KISS CHALLENGE ( harrow trying to kiss the body:( )

- “…the Emperor of the Nine Houses had someone, and then, like all his Lyctors, the Emperor of the Nine Houses had lost someone.” (346) this reminds me of that Langston Hughes poem, “I loved my friend. He went away from me. There’s nothing more to say. The poem ends, Soft as it began,— I loved my friend.”

- “And you walked to your death like a lover” goes hard

- rip BARI-star au you will always be famous <33

- the scene where harrow remembers gideon is sickening. the grief of losing gideon hitting harrow all over again after months of repression. her body crumpling and her throat raw from screaming. “She dug her hands into the mattress and she cried for Gideon Nav.” (380) LIKE HELLO?????

- YOU SAWED OPEN YOUR SKULL RATHER THAN BE BEHOLDEN TO SOMEONE. YOU TURNED YOUR BRAIN INTO SOUP TO ESCAPE ANYTHING LESS THAN 100 PERCENT FREEDOM. YOU PUT ME IN A BOX AND BURIED ME RATHER THAN GIVE UP YOUR OWN GODDAMNED AGENDA. ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡HARROWHARK, I GAVE YOU MY WHOLE LIFE AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN WANT IT!!!!!!!!! (390-391)

- “…probably because i am a good girl and you are an evil nun…” (391) god i missed you, gideon

- both ortus and harrow feeling crushing guilt over gideon’s death:(( so much guilt over a situation with no one to blame (although, the real villain here is capitalism. but that’s another post.)

- “Child, that bee smashed you.” (406) my fav line in the whole book.

- “‘Hell no! I’m going to pull your whole ass off,’ I said. ‘You want that? You want Harrow to grow you a new bone ass where I pulled off the old one? Let’s dance, Tridentarius.’” (429) i just missed nav so much you don’t understand

- gideon and harrow not reuniting despite being so close (GIDEON IS LEGIT INSIDE OF HER) ((ayo)) gideon is a part of her mind but still can’t see how harrow thinks of her. she’s operating her body but can’t feel how much it misses her touch. FUCK THIS BOOK BRO

- as a dancer, the way harrow describes watching matthias nonius and wake fight is how i feel when i watch people dance. the admiration for different approaches to movement stylistically, and making inferences about the intentions behind their movements. the appreciation for different skills in different areas and the keen eye for artistic choices. anyways.

- a reminder from marta: chickenshits don’t get beer.

- “She had not said goodbye. Harrow so rarely got to say goodbye.” (458) MUIR WHY WOULD YOU SAY THATTTTT

- “… meet Commander Wake Me Up Inside, sincerest apologies if I got that wrong…” (468) HELP

- gideon meeting her mom for the first time as a soul taking over the body of a lyctor she and harrow killed, after briefly having had a thing for said lyctor while she was impersonating a woman she’d never actually met— is messy, to say the least.

- “…Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven? / Was that the day you decided you wanted to die? / You remember how the fuck-off great-aunts used to say, Suffer and learn? / If they were right, Nonagesimus, how much more can we take until you and me achieve omniscience?” (477) they make me ill. i can’t even dissect this. just know i am ILL.

- mercy making jod say that he loved cristabel and never wanted any harm to come to her as a sort of final confirmation he was who she feared he was. because they both know that he let mercy kill her knowing full well she didn’t have to die. the fact that he is able to look mercy in the eyes and refuse to be honest, after all this time; the way he still won’t take accountability for his actions; confirms that the lives of others mean nothing to him compared to revenge.

- PYRRHA DVE HAS ARRIVED Y’ALL

- the thing at the bottom of the river with all the teeth and tounges??? like who thinks of this shit

- “‘There’s a difference between keeping a shred of a dance card’ said Harrow Nonagesimus, ‘and saving the last dance.’” (502) tamsyn muir is just toying with us atp

hi!! so this was… long. if you’ve somehow read all of this then you deserve a medal and ur favorite snack:) i hope you enjoy these!

part 3 (ntn) is on the way!

[andersunmenschlich]

As I understood the question, you asked which of the bimodal cluster of gender traits associated with the Woman label is shared by all women (and no one else), and I gave you the one that seems to meet that qualification.

If you'd asked which of the bimodal cluster of sex traits associated with the Female label is shared by all female people (and no one else), I'd have had equal trouble.

Women have many more gender traits in common, on average, than just their high level of comfort with being called women. Female folks have many more sex traits in common, on average, than just the vagina they had when they were born. But these two traits are the ones most commonly used as the cores of these two classifications: one without the input of the babies being classified, and the other with the input of the children, teens, and adults classifying themselves.

You say "stereotypes are inherently harmful and oppressive," but "male" and "female" are stereotypes you seem to be more than okay with.

Can you give a definition of "male" or "female" that doesn't harm people who don't conform to stereotype: a definition that doesn't reinforce the idea that intersex people should have their bodies altered (even without their consent) to conform?

No, of course not. Just having the categories reinforces the idea that people should conform. But does this mean these sex stereotypes—these two boxes artifically separating a bimodal cluster of traits into a distinct binary—should be thrown out altogether? "Who needs to know whether someone is 'male' or 'female'; we should all just be humans"?

Personality traits tend to cluster much the same way sex traits do. Of course it's possible to be non-assertive and a leader, or assertive and a follower. But it's not as likely as the other way 'round.

If a person's body has more "female" traits than "male" ones, it's helpful to classify that person as female—it gives you a better idea of what sex traits you're likely to encounter in a medical or sexual situation. If a person's personality has more "womanly" traits than "manly" ones, it's helpful to classify that person as a woman—it gives you a better idea of what personality traits you're likely to encounter in a social situation.

Every stereotype is overly simplified. Every person's body is different; everyone's personality is different.

The basic categories are still useful, which is why we use them.

Bigotry comes in when we assume that people will conform to stereotypes assigned to them by others, rather than stereotypes they themselves have chosen to form their own personal public face.

Regarding bodily autonomy: I think handing a bottle of insulin to a non-diabetic who knows that what's in that bottle is potentially deadly to them is less harmful than withholding the bottle from them because you've decided you know better than them what they want to do to their own body and with their own life.

I also think that if they want to die in a less painful way, it's your job as their doctor to help them achieve that goal.

(Note well that if their ultimate goal is "stop the pain" rather than "die," and you know how to stop the pain without death, you should help them achieve that goal—but if someone genuinely wants to die painfully they should have that right.)

[thoughtportal]

Who needs another measles vaccine dose? Answering your questions.

Many readers expressed outrage about the measles outbreak that began in an under-vaccinated community in rural West Texas, as I described in my column this week. The outbreak has infected more than 120 people there and in neighboring New Mexico and already led to the death of one child. Several shared their own devastating experiences with the disease as children.

Angela from Wisconsin contracted the virus when she was 5. She recalls becoming so ill that she spent months in the hospital. She is living with permanent disabilities from it, including hearing loss and blindness. “I cannot express to you the rage I have when I hear people say that measles is a harmless disease,” she wrote.

Before widespread vaccination, measles caused 5 to 10 percent of profound hearing-loss cases in the United States. Worldwide, measles used to be a leading cause of blindness among children; as many as 60,000 a year lost sight because of the disease.

“In your column, you mentioned that measles can ‘wipe out the immune system’s memory of past illness,’” wrote Darryl from Virginia. “I heard it was the opposite. Did you mean that the vaccine wipes out your immune system?”

What Darryl had heard is, in fact, reversed. Contracting measles can impair the immune system through a phenomenon called immune amnesia. The measles, mumps and rubella (MMR) vaccine prevents infection and therefore stops individuals from losing their immune memory.

In 2019, an international group of researchers published a landmark study in the journal Science. They took blood samples from children before and after contracting measles. After measles infection, unvaccinated children lost 11 to 73 percent of the antibodies against other viral and bacterial diseases. Vaccinated children did not lose these antibodies.

The researchers later documented that children with immune amnesia can regain lost immunity, but this takes months or years. During that period, these kids are at elevated risk for contracting diseases, including ones they previously suffered or were vaccinated against. The possibility of immune amnesia is more reason to avoid measles infection through vaccination.

Bill from North Carolina, a pediatrician, says he is treating numerous children who fell behind in their immunization schedule. He asks: “Can you please remind your readers that it’s possible [for kids] to make up their shots?”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention publishes a recommended immunization schedule that describes which vaccines children should receive and by what age. Kids should get the first dose of the MMR vaccine between 12 and 15 months of age and the second when they are 4 to 6 years old. Those who missed one or both shots can and should make them up. The second dose can be given as soon as 28 days following the first dose.

Many readers wanted to know if they, as adults, need additional MMR shots. Anne from Massachusetts inquired how long immunity lasts; she had measles as a young child, but that was more than 80 years ago. Stephanie lives in Texas and is concerned about the outbreak in her state. “Should I try to get a booster dose for myself and my family?” she asked.

Both prior infection as well as MMR vaccination are thought to convey lifelong protection against measles. Anne should still have protection because of her childhood measles bout.

The answer is less straightforward for Stephanie. Whether she and her family should receive additional doses depends on their age and number of past vaccines.

Measles was so prevalent before 1957 that everyone born before then is presumed to have had the virus. Those who received two doses of the live attenuated measles vaccine, which became the norm in 1968, do not need a third.

But those who were born after 1957 and were vaccinated before 1968 should get revaccinated to receive the more effective vaccine. And people who received only one dose of the MMR vaccine should consider a second. One shot is 93 percent effective against measles; the second increases protection to 97 percent.

John from Maryland wonders why a measles outbreak should concern those who are vaccinated. “Everyone in my family is vaccinated. My grandchildren are grown. Is it really a big deal if other people choose to not jab their kids?”

Essentially, John is asking why we should care about the return of measles. Two reasons: Though 97 percent effectiveness against infection is high, it’s not perfect. Breakthrough infections are possible. The more virus there is in a community, the more likely someone who is fully vaccinated could contract it, too. This has already happened in Texas, where five of the people who were infected are vaccinated.

Second, many people cannot be vaccinated and would be at high risk if measles were circulating in their area. This includes newborns and individuals with severe immunocompromise. These people are most likely to become severely ill from measles. In other words, those who are capable of getting vaccinated have an obligation to do so to protect the vulnerable.

There are already many respiratory viruses that can cause significant illness in the United States. Measles used to be one of them. What a shame it would be if it returned as a threat and infected Americans — not just those who chose to be unvaccinated but also others who want to protect themselves but cannot.

[silver-the-pendejo]

A Love, Transformed

Wild (Linked Universe) x Fiance!Reader Hurt no Comfort Reader uses They/Them pronouns Dedicated to: @cloudninetonine (im traumatizing ur wife again cloud :D) Words: 1472

Wild wouldn’t show it, but he was relieved to be back in his Hyrule.

It had been months since the last time a portal had sent the Chain here, dragging him away on another adventure that had no end in sight. He was used to it—being bound by the duty to this land, having him ripped away from his home one too many times before that he’d learned to bury the frustration deep within him. But this time had been different. This time, he had left something precious behind.

His fiancée. His Y/N.

The thought of them had carried him through this journey, through the cold and the exhaustion and the ache of always moving forward, trying to kill the shadow. But now, finally, he was home.

They would be waiting for him. The mere thought sent warmth curling through his chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to hope.

Until they got to the currently being rebuilt Castle Town.

Wild was glad to hear the familiar hum of life that it was starting to become of Castle Town—the chatter of merchants calling out their wares, the rhythmic pounding of hammers as the buildings were rebuilt, the laughter of children weaving through the streets. They were still recovering from the Calamity, but there was hope here.

And that meant Y/N would be here too.

But something was wrong.

The stares came first.

People noticed him—recognized him—but instead of relief, their gazes were weighted with something else. Pity.

A tight knot formed in Wild’s stomach. His steps slowed as whispers began to fill the air around him. He couldn’t make out the words, but he didn’t need to. The way people averted their eyes, the way some pressed their lips together in hesitation—he’d seen it before. Felt it before.

He heard Twilight shift beside him, felt Time’s hand land heavily on his shoulder. The old man had clearly noticed, too.

“Wild,” Time said, voice calm but firm. “Let’s find someone who can explain.”

Wild swallowed down the sudden dryness in his throat. He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know. But fear, sharp and cold, dug into his ribs and forced his legs to move.

Where was Y/N?

They should have been here. Their Purah Pad should have alerted them of his presence.The moment he stepped foot into Castle Town, they should have come running, throwing themselves into his arms like they always did. They promised they’d wait for him.

The fear inside him curdled into something sharp. He turned on his heel, pushing past the merchants and townsfolk who looked at him with quiet sorrow.

Someone had answers. And if they wouldn’t give them to him, he would find them himself.

His feet carried him to the research district before he realized it. If anyone could explain, it would be Purah. Or Zelda. Zelda would know.

“Move,” he barked when someone stepped in his way, too impatient to be polite. The Chain was behind him, their voices murmuring, but he ignored them. The only thing that mattered was finding the truth.

The entrance to the research lab that had been built in Castle Town loomed ahead. He barely slowed before shoving the door open.

The smell of ink, parchment, and ancient technology filled his nose, but he paid no mind. His gaze swept the room, landing on a familiar figure hunched over a cluttered table.

“Purah.” His voice came out hoarse.

The Sheikah woman stiffened, then slowly turned. The moment her eyes landed on him, she stilled.

That was all it took.

Wild didn’t even need her to say anything. The exhaustion in her face, the deep sorrow behind her sharp eyes—he knew.

His chest constricted. “Where’s Y/N?”

Purah inhaled deeply, setting down her pen. “Link…”

His heart pounded. No. No, just tell me they’re safe. Tell me I’m overreacting.

He shook his head, stepping forward. “Where are they?”

Purah sighed, rubbing her temple. She hesitated. Why was she hesitating?

“Link, I… I’m so sorry.”

The words sent ice down his spine.

“What?” His voice cracked.

Purah finally met his gaze, and for the first time, he saw it. Grief.

“They’re gone, Link.”

His stomach dropped.

No. No, that wasn’t—he had just—he was supposed to come back to them.

Purah swallowed hard, voice unsteady. “We don’t know what happened exactly but, suddenl’y I couldn’t find Mineru’s secret stone, and Y/N suddenly was to busy to hang out with any of us, 

Purah swallowed hard, voice unsteady. “We don’t know what happened exactly, but suddenly I couldn’t find Mineru’s Secret Stone… and Y/N was gone.”

The world tilted.

Wild took a step forward, shaking his head violently. “No. No, that’s not—what are you saying?”

Purah exhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “We think… we think they swallowed the stone, Link.”

The floor might as well have disappeared beneath him.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The words barely registered in his mind, bouncing around like meaningless noise—because they couldn’t be real. They couldn’t be real.

Swallowed a Secret Stone? His Y/N?

That was impossible. That was insane.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he choked out. His fingers clenched into fists. “Why—why would they do that? They wouldn’t do that!”

Purah’s expression twisted, grief etching itself deeper into her face. “We don’t know the full story,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But Zelda… she was the last person to see them before it happened. She tried to stop them.”

Wild swayed on his feet. His stomach churned, bile rising in his throat. “Where is she?”

Purah hesitated, but before she could answer, a new voice broke through the suffocating silence.

“I’m here.”

Zelda stood in the stairway of the lab that led to the second floor, her hands trembling at her sides. She looked exhausted—like she hadn’t slept in weeks. Like she had spent every moment since his last visit looking for something to fix.

Wild turned to her sharply, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. “Tell me she’s lying,” he rasped. “Tell me this isn’t real.”

Zelda’s eyes glistened, and she stepped forward slowly, cautiously, as if he might shatter with the wrong word. “I wish I could.”

The air was sucked from his lungs.

Zelda swallowed hard, clasping her hands together like she was trying to keep herself steady. “It was an illness, Link.” Her voice trembled, raw with grief. “A rare, terrible sickness. One that not even the best Zora healer’s could cure.”

Wild felt his pulse pound against his ribs, each beat hammering at the fragile hope clinging to his chest.

“They were fine before I left,” he rasped. “They were healthy—”

“It came out of nowhere,” Zelda interrupted, voice thick with emotion. “One day, they were fine. The next… they couldn’t even stand without help.”

Wild shook his head violently. No. No, that couldn’t be true. Y/N was strong. Resilient. They had fought beside him, survived through thick and thin. Something like this—it shouldn’t have been able to touch them.

But Zelda’s expression—haunted and weary—told him everything.

“It got worse,” she continued, her voice unsteady. “No matter what we did, it only kept progressing. We tried everything, Link. Every remedy, every ancient medicine, every ancient text we could find.” Her hands clenched at her sides. “Nothing worked.”

Wild’s breath came in short, shallow bursts. His mind was racing, screaming at him to fix it, to rewind time, to do anything but stand here and listen to the truth he had been too late to stop.

He shook his head. “Why the stone?” he croaked.

Zelda’s face crumpled.

“They didn’t want to die,” she whispered. “And the stone… it was the only thing left.”

Wild staggered, like she had struck him across the face.

“They held on as long as they could,” Zelda continued, eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we were running out of time. And when they realized there was no other way…” She swallowed. “They made a choice.”

Wild’s vision blurred. He shook his head, chest tightening until he couldn’t breathe.

His Y/N. His light, his love, his home—

Gone.

No.

Not gone.

Not dead.

Just—

Something else.

Something eternal.

The realization slammed into him like a thunderclap.

Zelda inhaled shakily. “I saw them, Link.”

His head snapped up.

She met his gaze, steady and unyielding. “I may be crazy but… they looked happier as a dragon.”

A suffocating silence filled the room.

The words echoed in his mind, over and over, like a blade twisting in his chest.

The dragon.

His dragon.

His Y/N.

The breath left his lungs in a sharp, broken exhale.

And then, without another word, he turned and ran, ignoring the call’s of his brother’s and friends.

Just me traumatizing Wild again. Anyways ty all for reading, request and ask's are open as always, byeee

LU Masterlist

[keegan-fabray]

[Aiden blinked, still unsure about what was currently happening.]

Of course there's no "easy", Luke. It's the creation and care of a living, breathing, person.

The "easiest", I suppose, would be to do it the old-fashioned way. But obviously that's not really on the table for most of us around here. And even then... well, there's a higher likelihood of a lot of the genetic issues you have the option to attempt to filter out when using IVF.

The second "easiest", if you want to call it that, would probably be what Keegan and I are doing by deliberately opening our home to a child with a disability. The unfortunate reality is children with disabilities rarely get adopted. So wait times to get one in the home are much lot shorter and the legal process is much quicker because there's a much lower chance of someone else attempting to claim custody. But, because they're disabled, that means you need more money for assistive equipment and likely more time and resources for any therapy or other specialty assistance and schooling they may need.

Third "easiest" is probably IVF. You can filter out a lot of things you may be worried about genetically, but, along with finding a surrogate, there's the reality that IVF is unpredictable. There's the chances of multiples you weren't planning on, of course. But, honestly? The more likely issue is just that... you'll need a few rounds for it to work. The first transfer is rarely a success. I believe the average is three. But there's also some people who need far more before one finally takes. Ask my parents.

Fourth and fifth "easiest" is probably what Benji and Baxter are doing. Fourth with Theo, fifth with the international adoption they're trying to do. Theo's a little older, so the wait time was shorter. But, as we all already know, the legal process makes it so much harder and it's in no way a guarantee--although, between all of us, I'm sure those two have some of the best lawyers money can by, so I have faith. With their international child... it's international and they're looking for a newborn. Newborns as a whole are hard enough to get since most people who adopt, that's what they want. And add that they're looking internationally in one specific country? I know from Baxter that they're on a pretty long waitlist. And that's just for getting a child in the home. International adoption paperwork is an even harder legal battle than what they're doing with Theo. Because along with all the regular stuff, they're talking citizenship--probably multiple citizenships, actually--as well.

Sixth would probably be adopting a teenager. Most children in the system are teenagers, so turn around time would be instant. Legal proceedings would also be pretty quick most of the time. But it'll be for a child that's almost already an adult and likely has quite a bit of trauma from bouncing around who knows how many foster homes throughout their formative years... It's probably no surprise why none of us seem to really be considering that one.

[Aiden blinked in confusion.] ...What? What do you mean?

[into-the-milgramverse]

Aight, so, while I'm trying to calm down from certain event

I'm gonna try to write on Muu, specifically relation to what happened regarding Haruka, cause I see left and right people who either jump on to see her as this completely evil irredeemable being or as a totally a good friend who did everything in her power but she just didn't know!!! 🥺🥺 And I feel like both of those takes are... not quite right? Uh, because it's gonna be a long and potentially nonsensical ramble cause I'm not doing well rn, I'll put it all under read more. tw for mentions of Haruka's attempt

Ok, so, first of. Starting of with the "Oh, but she tried to help him!! She brought him food! There's just no way she could have known!!!!"

Yeah, nah, I call that bullshit. If you have functional eyes, capable of sight, you can see a person who starves themselves get thinner. That alone should have told her that he's not eating properly as she supposedly tried to get him to (by... saying it once.) Even if someone who's fat started to starve themselves, which would be less obvious when looking at the body (in fact, you can bet some people would praise them for being ""healthy"" regarding that), the negative impact on health would still show in the face: the cheeks would get sunken in, the, skin would get dry and lips chapped. And, since Haruka is not fat, but tall and lanky as it is, these changes would be especially noticeable on him, along with noticeable body changes. You're telling me that someone like Muu, who's focused on her external beauty (reminder, she wants to be a model) and who literally has Haruka keep his eyes on her, would somehow miss all those signs? Not to mention, she also has a sense of smell, doesn't she? She would have noticed the smell of rotting food that Haruka would hide.

So, she knew very well, and, even if you try to defend her how she somehow didn't think he'd actually kill himself, no, that was very obvious sign that he was actually gonna kill himself. And yet, she didn't do anything. At very least she could have told someone, to ask for help, if she herself struggled with how to help him. But it's clear she did not want to help him.

However, here's a bit more that should be thought about. Muu sees friendships as transactional. She thought Haruka how to write, something he struggled with before, helped him with his style, since he literally arrived in pyjamas, and taught him how to at very least act confident until he internalizes the confidence.

In return, Haruka would provide protection. He'll make sure she stays Innocent so that the harm doesn't come her way like it possibly could happen if she gets voted Guilty. He is also a source of attention for Muu. It's been made clear over and over again that attention and praise is something she looks for and needs. Most prisoners get annoyed with that (Yuno and Fuuta come to mind).

But who doesn't get annoyed? Who else is so starved for attention due to years of being neglected, that simply spending time with them will paint her as an angel directly sent from heavens? Haruka. All she needs to do is to give him a drop of attention to be showered in attention back.

This need for attention and need for protection is not inherently a bad thing. Rich families usually don't do any caring for their children, they have money so they just hire a nanny to take care of them, resulting in lack of attention that's necessary while growing up. On top of that, as I've talked about in my previous Muu post, her school environment was such where she had to stay at the top (at what point she'd be praised), only to be dragged down if she made even the smallest slip-up, and then she'd have to act pitiful to gain attention and climb up to the top. This is all a survival tactic to avoid being bullied, to avoid being hurt. It also leads to a feedback loop of attention and praise = safety. The assumption that Haruka's attempt would sway the audience into voting her Innocent was just added means of securing her safety. And of course she'd support that then. There's no way she could have known that the audience would hit her and Haruka with a Guilty, but after that happened, why would she suddenly stop supporting Haruka?

And speaking of that

Why would Haruka even consider stopping? He was not only encouraged by Muu, for who's sake he was starving himself for, and by Kotoko, who laughed at him and found it amusing, but he also got encouragement from the audience. Not only did Muu got voted Guilty, after he threatened he'll kill himself if she gets voted Guilty, but he himself got voted Guilty too. Reminder that he, like Yuno, could hear the voices while Innocent. He heard voices that praised him, that said they love him. What do you think he heard afterwards? That they don't believe he'd actually do it, or that he'll be restrained if he gets voted Guilty so there's no need to worry. Though he likely didn't get restrained immediately (after all, Muu too would have been restrained, and her arms would be unusable, yet Shidou saw her, and trusted her that she'd bring food. If she had her arms bound at the time, she wouldn't be able to bring food at all), it's a possibility that he definitely thought about, which led to him picking the one method he could do regardless if he gets restrained or not.

By the time Fuuta finally discovered him, it was pretty much already too late. Haruka has gone far enough, and still stuck to his choice. And besides, only one person vs 2 people, one of which is the very person he cares about the most, along with the entirety of both Muu Guilty voters and his own Guilty voters, will not convince him to stop.

TL;DR:

She's literally Just a Girl that has a need for attention, and who's life experiences have shaped her to believe everything in this life is transactional and that other people's lives don't matter if it secures her own safety.

Final thought to end it on: Her actions are horrible and you cannot defend those. She knew and could see very well what was happening. Regardless, I also don't think she herself is inherently a bad person.

Personally, I'd vote her Innocent.