#people having powers is nothing new to her

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[salemlunaa]

𓇼 ˚∘ Unlocking the Power of Manifestation: Shifting Realities Explained ·˚𓆉 ༘₊·

It seems some of you still don’t get it.

I get so many asks and dms worrying about the same thing so i will address it now:

“when i go to the void, will i still see my family and friends?”

“will everything be the same if i go to the void? like if i downy want certain things to change will they stay the same?”

“i like manifestation because shifting is too much for me”

“i only do normal manifestations because i don’t want to leave my family if i induce the void and shift”

well let me tell you something, there is no difference between the two

manifesting = shifting, it’s the same thing i don’t care if you are manifesting the sun to come out today with affirmations or you induce the void and manifest a whole new life. It’s still shifting, and it takes the same effort. I think the art of shifting has been put on a pedestal, but it’s nothing.

Let’s say Lumera wants to manifest money she does this through affirmation, she will shift to a reality where she has money, everything else stays the same, the only difference in this reality is that she has more money. Shifting isn’t some extravagant thing, it’s just natural, it’s first nature so it will feel normal and natural.

Manifesting is shifting because you just shift to a reality where your manifestations are in the 3D. There are many different realities where you don’t have what you want, but you’re not aware of that reality, your consciousness isn’t there. EVERYTHING IS A SHIFT, whether you pick that red skirt over the blue skirt in the clothing store, you’ve shifted to the reality that you now own a red skirt, yet everything is the same, and a reality where you picked the blue skirt exists but you just aren’t aware of that reality.

There is no original reality, feeling so bound to this one and so comfortable and natural in this unfavourable reality is why you aren’t getting what you want.

“It's like changing a shirt. When you put on a new shirt, you "jump" into a reality where you are wearing that new shirt. It's not what you think it is. There are infinite realities (infinite)

They (realities) are all as real as each other. You're just aware of this specific one. Doesn't make it more real than any other reality though. That's like saying you're scared of putting on a new shirt/ outfit because you'd be "jumping" into a reality where you're wearing a different outfit. That means that you'd be scared in everything you do, because your reality "shifts" with everything that you do.” - quoted from my girl @luckykiwiii101

Reality changes every second, your loved ones aren’t gonna disappear and change because of your outfit, yes when you pick that red skirt in the mall, your mum changes, but the only change she goes through is now being aware that you own a red skirt when you showed it to her on facetime. And if you picked the blue skirt she would vaunts but the only change being made is her now being aware that you own a blue skirt.

You don’t have an original reality, which is why people call it “current reality” because it’s the reality that your awareness is currently in. You can change that any time. Your innerman isn’t bound to just one reality because of what the 3d is showing you.

So stop asking if you’re going to see your family just because you want a new appearance via the void state. Stop asking if you should induce pure consciousness or just do “normal manifestating” It’s. The. Same. Thing. Shifting and manifesting have no difference, whatsoever. This doesn’t make things any less real and this doesn’t make your loved ones disposable, you’re a god and they don’t have to be “left behind” or change drastically if you don’t want them to. Everything but that desire of yours will stay the same if you want it to, stop asking stuff when your subconscious mind knows everything you want down to the minute details.

These questions and these fears ARE irrational because shifting IS first nature to you.

🌞☄️Do not let these irrational fears keep you from getting what you want.

[starcurtain]

Another Phaidei Fic I Want to Read

It's the political arranged marriage AU but make it (ooooo) complicated~

Crown Prince Mydeimos of Castrum Kremnos was born under a dark star, with a prophecy of abject despair uttered at the moment of his birth: Mydeimos will be the last king of Kremnos. The city-state will fall, her people will be lost, and the glory of Strife entirely will fade into nameless oblivion. Year after year, the prophets repeat the same warnings: Mydeimos is cursed, and he will bring the downfall of their kingdom and all its inhabitants.

But no one in Kremnos knew just how cursed their prince was until the day the regent's war council convinced their king to do the unthinkable: If Mydeimos was sacrificed, perhaps their prophecy of destruction could be averted and Kremnos saved...

Only Mydei couldn't even die like he was supposed to. No matter how many times he was mortally wounded, the boy just kept standing up--not even Thanatos would take him. That glorious death in battle that all Kremnoan warriors were expected to achieve--even this most central aspect of Mydei's own culture rejected him.

This life of betrayal and total loneliness, with the promise of eventually destroying everything he knew and cared for, seemed inescapable--until one day, when Mydeimos had already passed the age of majority (and would have long since been allowed to challenge his father for the crown if it weren't for the despair prophesied to be his reign), a new vision was shared among all of their people's seers: There was a way to avert their kingdom's impending destruction and save their people. "Only the son of Aedes Elysiae can deliver Castrum Kremnos from the dark tide and restore the true king to her throne."

Aedes Elysiae is a tiny city-state with nowhere near enough military might to defend against a full onslaught from the Kremnoans. But the risk that the Elysian prince could be harmed--and all of Kremnos' future lost in the process--is too high to engage in a traditional war of conquest. Although it runs contrary to the Kremnoans' very natures, if it means securing their kingdom's future and hiding the truth of their foreseen fate forever, they will engage in any manner of subterfuge and political maneuvering necessary.

Namely, by using the threat of war to force Aedes Elysiae to surrender their crown prince to a permanent and binding political alliance. If the Elysians want to avoid obliteration by the military might of the Kremnoans, they will tie the destiny of their crown prince to the Strifewalkers' through blood and oath--a marriage to Kremnos' own Prince Mydeimos. In this way, perhaps the curse can finally be outweighed by the glory of a savior.

Enter Phainon: the pride and joy of Aedes Elysiae, the golden sun to his people, loved by everyone who knows him. Although his heart has always been soft and romantic, rebelling fiercely at the idea of marrying someone he's never met and doesn't love, there is nothing Phainon won't do to protect his people and his kingdom--even if it means sacrificing himself.

So Phainon agrees to leave his family and homeland behind, and makes the miserable journey to Castrum Kremnos to meet his destiny... as well as his new husband.

Too bad Mydei wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Disgusted by his father's willingness to forsake Kremnos' sacred principles of pride and integrity by using underhanded tactics and falsehoods to force Aedes Elysiae's prince into compliance, Mydei refuses to even acknowledge his marriage to Phainon, let alone look in his fellow prince's direction.

Which wouldn't be a problem, honestly, if it weren't for the fact that poor Phainon is smitten within days.

When the Kremnoans were strong-arming Aedes Elysiae's king into giving up his beloved son, why had no one thought to just tell Phainon that Prince Mydeimos was so... so... upright and honest and brave and powerful and gorgeous and straightforward and humorous and quick-witted and honorable and also gorgeous? (Phainon thinks perhaps this last point should be repeated a few more times for good measure.) Truly, Phainon might have gone willingly if anyone had just thought to show him a portrait of his husband-to-be in advance!

While Phainon struggles to catch his own husband's attention and soften Mydei's seemingly unbreakable stone heart, Mydei struggles with his father's demands to keep his curse hidden, to not reveal the omen of destruction lurking behind this sham of a marriage. Though having to lie shreds every last tatter of pride Mydei has, if this prince of Aedes Elysiae discovers the truth, that he's been brought here solely to counteract Mydei's prophesied inability to reign, Kremnos' enemies will know it within the hour. A single weakness will be all the world needs to turn on the Kremnoans, to bring Mydei's terrible destiny to pass.

And... And if Phainon learns the truth about Mydeimos, about his curse, about how he is an abomination that not even death will accept, about the misery he is destined to bring, about the failures that are sure to come, about how he is hated by his country, his people, his own family--then Mydei will lose the first person who has ever smiled freely at him, ever wanted to walk beside him, ever spoke kind words in his direction...

There is no way Phainon would ever look at him the same again.

There is no way Phainon would stay.

And that would be cruelest fate of all.

(What Mydei and Castrum Kremnos don't know is that Phainon has a secret of his own: He's not royalty by blood in the slightest. He was a penniless orphan who just got lucky enough to be taken in by the castle and end up, through twists in his own destiny, to be raised by the childless rulers of Elysiae from nothing but the kindness of their hearts.

There is no son of Aedes Elysiae to save Castrum Kremnos from its fate--and the dark tide comes for all.

But visions bestowed by the gods must not be doubted. Perhaps the combined efforts of two lonely people--the one who forsook his own land for love and the one who could only be loved by someone from another land--will see the sun of Aedes Elysiae delivered to Kremnos once more...

And put a true and honest king upon her throne at last.)

[noneatnonedotcom]

decided to roll on the celestial dojo spreadsheet for jaune. the following is what he managed to roll (the first two rolls didn't require paying the cost for this one)

Beautiful: (free) "You are very beautiful, guaranteed to be beautiful enough make the majority of the opposite sex think you are hot. This won’t shift your appearance to something you find ugly."

Worthy: (800) "Once every few centuries, someone special is born. The sort of person that you just know will be something great as soon as you see them, even as a child. In these times, that person is Arturia Pendragon, the future king of Britain. But what if there was another like her? You’ve been found worthy of the favour of the World now and been blessed for it. Your path is one of great destiny, paved with many gifts and prizes, leading to truly incredible feats. And all it takes from you is to take the first step to adventure. So long as you pursue great feats and pursuits, you’ll find yourself surrounded by advantages. Mentors and teachers of incredible skill and fame appear to teach you skills, spells and abilities. You’ll find yourself involved in many stories in favourable ways, gathering friends, allies and resources without even trying to gain them.

As you attempt to improve yourself, so long as it is in the aim of accomplishing great things later on, you’ll find no end to the breakthroughs and leaps of progress you achieve.

While on this golden path, you’ll be protected from many minor dangers and risks, never needing to fear dying or failing because of accidents or the threat of unimportant foes in your story. Finally, this blessing of the World has ensured your natural charisma has skyrocketed to immense heights.

Even if you act as an emotionless robot, you could gather a small army of devoted and powerful retainers over just a few years. It has it’s limits though, don’t expect people to stick around forever if you never show them a smile. Whatever path you take, it is one where you are assured to reach the centre stage of the story."

the rules are as follows for every thousand words written jaune gets 100 points, I've elected to say that he only gets new powers at the end of an arc he can however learn to utilize any powers he has gained throughout the arc, so for instance if he'd have gained the Sharingan he'd have access to it and it's abilities but could not roll for the evolved versions of it until the end of the arc, however any jutsu or other techniques he copied using it would be fair game. so how do you all think the story would change with jaune starting with these two powers?

@howlingday @weatherman667 @heliosthegriffin @thatorigamiguy

bonus points if you use prose but honestly i'm more interested in how you think this would effect jaune's character and the characters of those around him. to say nothing of the story shifting.

[thisisntmyrightera]

Our Glory - Jeon Jae Joon x Fem Reader pt2

Plot: Jae Joon leave South Korea to avoid being part of a violence scandal and arrives in America to start his life again, finding the love of his life who makes him feel human for the first time. Despite the distance, no matter how much he avoids his reality, the ghost of his past will reach him wherever he is endangering everything he has achieved.

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Violence, Angst, Drama Warning: Themes of school violence, abuse of power, minors being harassed, harsh language.

A/N: The story is inspired by The Glory, however, some time periods have changed as well as situations where the protagonist will be part of changing some original scenes.

I appreciate you reading and being part of this new story, as always I hope to please your readers' hearts.

I'll be back soon.

Jae Joon seemed to lose his personality every time you came and your oxygen mixed with his, your simple presence was a sign of salvation for his employees because they knew that he would stop his rude and violent attitude.

It wasn't that he pretended to be nice, he was just so stupidly in love that he even forgot who he was.

You're a son of a bitch, you're useless, do I have to do everything myself? Huh? - Jae Joon pushed his guard making him crash into a wall while the man just looked down in shame

Babe? - your voice made his jaw relax as he turned around hastily worried that you might have seen that scene

Baby, what are you doing here? - his smile formed wide as he hugged you by the waist lifting you a little in the air - how is my favorite girl doing?

I passed by here and came to visit you - you smiled hugging him by the neck kissing his lips leaving a light trace of your lip gloss on them

You arrived just in time, I was starting to miss you - he smiled carefully lowering you adjusting your blouse - are you staying to eat with me?

I don't think so, I have an appointment with the florist and then I'll go pick out the veil for my wedding dress - you smiled at him wiping the lipstick off his lips

You'll be the most beautiful bride of all - he kissed your cheek making you laugh like a teenager in love, both feeling for a moment that nothing around you existed

Both of you seemed to have no notion of time and wanted to rush everything, by then a huge ring adorned your left hand, it was beautiful and exotic very different from the generic rings that your friends boasted.

It shine with every ray of sunlight that hit the perfect shaped stone, always being the topic of conversation at the meetings where now you no longer accompanied your parents as part of the Y/L/N family but instead you presented yourself on Jae Joon's arm as the future Mrs. Jeon, causing annoyance to the dozens of people who once approached your family hoping to create a bond and you rejected their annoying sons.

Life was perfect, while you chose the ideal flowers for the wedding and tried the desserts that would be served at the reception you forgot that you ever doubted that this moment would come, everything was happiness.

Maybe we can take some of the fabric from here and adjust it - you looked at the dressmaker through the mirror while you touched your waist detailing the last adjustments of your wedding dress

I understand, how do you like the train of the dress? - she smiled at you placing a couple of pins in the leftover fabric - would you like it to be a little longer?

No, I think it's fine, I wouldn't want to trip walking down the aisle - you laughed looking at the back of your dress

You'll be a beautiful bride, your fiance must be very lucky to have you - she smiled at you adjusting the veil looking at you with adoration

I think so - you smiled looking at her feeling your phone vibrate, lately Jae Joon had become very insistent in his messages, sending you loving texts and images of every movement he made

I'll go get the other veil for you to try on - the dressmaker smiled leaving giving you your space while you unlocked your phone looking at the message from an unknown phone

''Will you be a very happy bride?''

With this message, it would be the third one you received in the last month, all coming from an unknown phone, always different and with a foreign area code

Miss, is everything okay? - The young girl looked at you worriedly, bringing you out of your thoughts, smiling at her as you locked your phone again to go with her to the center of the room.

Yes, excuse me - you sighed nervously, looking at her, trying to make it seem like everything was okay - please show me the other veil.

Of course, this one will be for the reception, it's shorter and has a more subtle fall - the girl explained to you while your head spun, thinking a thousand things at once.

Trying to remember if you had done something to bother someone to receive that kind of subtly annoying messages that worried you.

That night you felt like you wanted to tell Jae Joon everything, it wasn't like everything you told him wasn't enough already, but sometimes you decided to keep certain things to yourself to avoid him getting upset, not exactly with you but with others and causing an annoying situation.

Like the time you told him that the Peterson's son kept sending you messages to go out with him again (even though you had made it clear to him almost a year ago that you wasn't interested) and he didn't take long to show up at his company offices making a fuss so he would stop bothering you, a split lip was the least you think he could give him.

After dinner and making sure that the people who helped him at home went to rest (something you implemented since you came to live in his apartment) you both agreed that it was a good idea to rest in the Jacuzzi, something you had taken as a habit to relax and talk about their day.

Sometimes you didn't even say a single word, you just relaxed with each other's presence, but he wasn't stupid, he noticed every change in you and he could tell that you weren't completely calm

Is something wrong? - he murmured, arranging your hair to the side of your neck, feeling your bare back better against his chest

Yes, just… I'm a little tired - you sighed without opening your eyes, making yourself better comfortable near him

How about I skip work tomorrow and go with you to see the wedding pending? - he smiled when he saw you barely nod - anyway, I wanted to ask you to go with me to see the last details of our house, I would like the new decoration to be how you like it and I need your opinion

Yes, that's okay - you smiled barely, snuggling into his chest with a thousand ideas running through your head - Can I… tell you something?

Whatever you want… -

But do you promise not to get mad? - you looked at him barely blinking at something he found adorable

How could I be mad at you? Don't ever think that love, look at me - his arms took your waist moving you like a weightless piece on his legs making you look at him head on - don't ever think that something about you bothers me, it doesn't matter that I'll always listen to you, do you understand?

Yes it is… I just don't want you to be upset you know with… someone else..- you looked at him shyly sighing nervously

Someone else? - his gaze darkened tensing his jaw- who did something to you?

No… it's not something like… someone did something to me… it's just that..- you sighed again looking at your hands between the bubbles in the bathtub- for… a couple of weeks I've been receiving messages…

messages?… are they from that bastard Peterson? -

No…no it's not him…I don't really know who it is actually…it's just that they are strange messages, like…I don't know, like asking me things, I haven't even answered, in fact I blocked the first number and then I received another one and…that's what it's been happening..-

Show me those messages - he sighed deeply massaging the bridge of his nose while you took your phone and showed him the series of messages

''You are the light in his darkness, it would be a shame if he was blinded and forgot his reality''

''Are you funny? It will help when you see him cry''

''Will you be a happy bride?''

These sons of bitches - he sighed again holding all the air in his lungs in a scream of frustration throwing your phone against the wall making it break into a thousand pieces, realizing his mistake when he saw you jump scared looking at him with fear - I'm sorry babe - he hugged you quickly making you feel confused - you don't have to worry, I'll change your phone number and we'll only give it to the really important people okay? No one else, I don't want these bastards to keep bothering you

A thousand names ran through his head, maybe one of your ex dates, Yeo-Jin even the starving Hye-Jeon, whoever it was he wasn't going to let them ruin his perfect life by your side.

Absolutely nothing could go wrong and if it did, he would fix it for you.

His eyes kept moving around the place where the reception was going to take place, an exclusive and elegant garden with a view of the city as you both liked, he could listen to you talk and talk without letting go of your hand.

I would like there to be hundreds of gardenias on the tables, for the whole place to smell like flowers - you smiled looking at the options to decorate the guests' tables making the organizer look at you smiling somewhat distrustful of your choice

Gardenias are a bit expensive, could I recommend some other flower or style to decorate the tables - he smiled confident of his comments writing in his notebook

Hey.. - Jae joon looked at him without missing a detail with his predatory eyes - if my wife wants hundreds of flowers you will get them, do you understand?

Yes, it's just an opinion…

We don't need your opinion, you're going to do what she wants and that's it - he looked him up and down smiling mockingly rolling his eyes annoyed by nosy people

Sometimes, even though you didn't share his dominant character, seeing him have that kind of reaction made you feel good, his possessive and jealous attitude was most of the time a compliment for you even though you felt bad about it afterwards but ''That's how men are'' your mother always repeated to you when you told her how Jae Joon acted on certain occasions.

After all, that's love, isn't it?

That's what you always told yourself to make yourself feel better after every outburst of anger your husband had, never against you, always against those who contradicted you or questioned your ideas or his, a bad habit that you normalized over time.

On your wedding day, it was like a fairy tale written in reality, your mother helped you put on your expensive designer dress, your long veil for the altar and your hands adorned with your expensive engagement ring.

On the way to the altar you could notice familiar faces and others not so familiar, Sara was one of them, smiling like crazy (drugged) watching your pretty dress float down the aisle.

Yeo-Jin couldn't control her jealousy and envy as she watched how you broke all her expectations, being a beautiful and elegant bride making her feel insecure and tiny comparing you to her on her wedding day, how was that bastard's wife going to beat her? It was unforgivable for her.

Hye-Jeong hated you, just that, she hated you, you had stolen Jae Joon's heart without putting in the effort she had tried for years, she felt inferior and humiliated in the dress Sara had give to her to attend your wedding, feeling nauseous every time you and Jae Joon smiled at each other wishing she was the one in your place.

You are the most beautiful daughter I could win Y/N - Mr. Jeon, now your father-in-law smiled at you hugging you just after finishing the ceremony - you did a great job Jae Joon, you have a beautiful woman, now please do not take long to give me grandchildren

Dad..shut up - Jae Joon looked at him disgusted feeling a little embarrassed while you smiled blushing a little

Congratulations Joon - Yeo-Jin smiled holding her cigarette followed by the two girls with mixed emotions- it was a beautiful wedding

Love, this is Yeo-Jin an old friend, Hye-Jeong and Sara, you already know her - Jae Joon looked at them a little defiantly knowing how to interpret the attitudes of each one with his years of experience knowing them

A pleasure - you smiled a little cleverly looking at them, receiving a hypocritical smile from Yeo-Jin and a pale and emotionless face from Hye-Jeong - Jae Joon has told me a little about You

Really? What an honor, I hope it's just new things - Yeo-Jin laughed smoking a little more making you feel strange for his sarcastic answers

If you don't mind - Your now husband noticed it, holding your hand smiling kindly - we have to go

This time, you smile (hypocritical) as you passed by her made two of the three girls look at you with hatred while Sara said goodbye waving her hand excitedly out of this planet

Wow, she's so cute, like a princess - Sara smiled lost in your dress receiving a blow from Yeo-Jin making her react annoyed while rubbing her arm - what's wrong with you bitch?

Shut your mouth you damn drug addict - Hye-Jeong looked at her annoyed

The rest of the night none of the three girls could believe what they saw when they saw how Jae Joon behaved next to you, it seemed like he was another person, his loving attitude and dedication to make you happy in the least had them surprised.

Look at him - Hye-Jeong sighed leaning on her hand watching how you took a piece of cake with a fork and brought it to Jae Joon's mouth making him eat while both laughed in love - if any of us had done that, he would have taken that fork and stuck it in our eye, he's a bastard

He's a bastard because you're jealous - Sara laughed drinking from her glass - accept it you poor, starving girl, he would never have noticed you, you're poor, ugly and have no sense of fashion, look at her, she's a foreigner with nice tits and the most expensive bags you can imagine, she's a lucky bitch.

You can shut your mouths - Yeo-Jin looked at them annoyed rolling her eyes- she's just a bitch, if she knew everything that son of a bitch did and why he fled the country in such a hurry I assure you that she wouldn't even have noticed him, she's too pure for that problematic bastard

Well there's nothing we can do now, is he already a tied man or not Hye-Jeon? - Sara laughed mockingly smoking making the short-haired woman look at her annoyed crossing her arms

We'll see how long their love story lasts, when she knows who Jeon Jae Joon really is she'll send him to hell..-

[eskumii]

" MY FAIR CONSORT, ETERNAL " — soft yandere!knight x immortal!princess!reader

SYNOPSIS: your dark knight, who grew up hearing stories of your tragic fate as the immortal princess destined to be killed by a great warrior, has now arrived to claim your father's throne... and you. (1.9k) — navi.

CONTENT: yandere behaviors, age gap (knight is like 27 and reader is 19), fake religious mentions ("the gods"), hot knight is literally ur superfan 4 life and just wants better for u... manipulation, slight infantilization

NOTES: i injected elden ring into my veins to write this. i thought of the knight from the perspective of the player's character, who defeats all the bosses in the game and meeting you is like the ending lol. u don't need to know anything abt elden ring btw, i was just inspired by the lore (and ranni's ending ofc muehehe) c:

the dark knight who ascended from ashes, borne from shadows and bones and the blood of the world, is now kneeling at your precious feet.

and you, the princess destined to he who restores order in this level of the stratosphere by cutting down the souls of opposition, must take the triumphant warrior into your arms as he takes your life, and your father's throne—just as the prophecy foretold.

but, to do this, you hesitate.

even in the blackness of his rugged armor, you see your reflection in the twinkling of the blood there, freshly drawn from the still-warm bodies of the gatekeepers, who lie uselessly past the threshold of your chambers. you are alone now, at the mercy of a mortal who clawed his way through death to usher in a new era of reigning peace.

this is the man by whose hand you are to be killed. you see his face not, but his beastly stature hunched before you and his ghastly sword, long and wide, is sheathed against the vastness of his strong back; it is enough for you that a great knight has emerged from among the lowly to slaughter you, and that you do not even have a chance to fight for your life. how cruel that you are fated to die this way.

despite your personal reservations, you must accommodate this warrior, as you have been trained to do since you were a mere girl. 

“honored knight,” you speak. “you have arrived, at last. i awaited this day a thousand years.”

he seems to be looking at you but you cannot tell from within the deep shadows of his helmet, where a small slit has been carved for sight. he is strange and quiet and stoic; you do not know where he comes from or the kind of person he is. 

you clear your throat in the silence. “to whom have i the honor of relinquishing my power?” 

ignoring your question, he instead delicately takes your hand in his, and he holds it to the metal of his faceplate where his lips are hidden beneath.

"my lady," his voice is darkness and tender. "the honor is mine. you are altogether lovely, even moreso than i imagined."

you flinch and hasten to pull your hand away. a sudden terror sweeps through the throne room but it is only apparent to you, the sole recipient of a certain impending doom. he is nothing like the brute you envisioned he would be… no, this is much worse.  

”...in my youth, i read of you and heard many a story—a princess whose beauty is marred with tragedy, as the fated warrior whom she knows not is to be her end.” 

you swallow thickly but you hold your tongue. you were not aware that your own tale had been passed down to the common peoples for so long, or that they cared much for you at all. you are both warmed and sodden with grief at the thought that so many generations of children have grown, tried, and failed to reach your castle and free themselves from the curse of being lost in this frozen pocket of time. 

he continues. “of all the myths (or so i thought they were) of princesses and their lovers, yours always won my favor and affection. i thought often that, during my training, i might one day come and gaze upon you myself.”

you stare at him, utterly disturbed. you do not know where he is going with this and wish he would spare you the preamble. is he going to kill you or not? 

“i see… well,” you start after a long pause. “you have seen me, and are seeing me. i am no figment of imagination.” 

“indeed, i have fulfilled my childish longings.” he hums lowly in agreement.

perhaps this strange man aims to kill you slowly with his fake words, so that you are none the wiser to the moment when he sinks his sword in your abdomen. there is no time for these foolish pleasantries. the gods are growing impatient; the skies have darkened, and you hear what sounds like thunder roaring in the near distance. 

you no longer stop yourself from blurting out how you really feel. "...o, please, great knight. do not torment me. i know well what you must do, so do not delay. you, a mere man, have felled every king and prince, who themselves are something like gods. i have no means of resistance towards you.” 

he is silent and unmoving for a moment. then, he bows his head to you, hand lain over his heart, still kneeling all the while. 

"my darling princess, it is true that i have conquered the world with my hands. if I may ask, for what reason do you think i have come to you?" he questions you with a smooth lilt in his tone, like he is humored by your urgency to die. 

but it is then your turn to be moved to silence. what is he talking about? you lean forward, confusion and desperation coming undone on your face.

"why, mustn't you end my life in order to fulfill the prophecy? of a lowly warrior who rises to take my father's throne, which i alone stand in your way?"

he bursts out into laughter, booming and terrifying. "what meaningless prophecies!”

your heart drops into your bowels at his words.  

the dark knight shifts to rest his weary, armored head in your lap. it is heavy and cold against your thighs, which are veiled poorly from such biting contact by your thin underskirts. the claws of his iron gloves dig into your yielding skin, pulling you closer to him despite your rigidness. he is breathing deeply, trembling against your warmth and softness like a man who's been starved of anything good and kind.

"what is a ruler without his fair consort?” he mutters quietly. “i have slain your father already, silly girl. i may descend upon this throne as i wish. but i have come so that we might be companions, not enemies.”

your breath is taken from you. this lowly knight wishes to rewrite the prophecies of old? it is impossible—more than that, absurd and deluded. even you, granted immortality by the gods, have no say in what you have been called to do.  

“no…” you blanch, feeling sickly as your resolve crumbles. “we cannot… i must fulfill my duty. you have restored order unto this world, now i shall do my part.”

slowly, he begins to stand. you fear you have angered him but you have only told the truth, and it is all you can do. 

“your ‘duty’?” he spits, his tall form reaching mountain peaks as he straightens up to a towering height. “are you so eager to die when i have toiled eagerly to share a moment with you?” he reaches out a hand to cup your chin, turning your face this way and that as if to examine the integrity of your words based on the fear in your eyes. 

he rambles on, scoffing. “and then you speak of kings as gods yet i have defeated them all. what am i to you, then?” 

“you.. you’re the greatest warrior to ever live, of course. you have proved yourself tenfold, to me and to the gods. now you must do what has been demanded of you, fool.” you spit back harshly, disregarding any of your niceties from before.

it is true that you do not want to die… but this is a kinder fate than being punished by the gods for disobedience, who by now must be descending atop the clouds in their anger, or something of the sort. 

“very well, then. if duty is what you desire, i give unto you a new one that is most befitting: embrace thine new king, and be mine.”

his hand moves to your cheek and how gentle is his touch. but you wretch yourself away because you are no betrayer of your destiny. a thousand years ago, you took your place as throne keeper while your father awaited this so-called “fated lowly knight” who would fell him with ease. for a thousand years, he prowled amongst the shadows of the castle, regarding every wandering soul within the kingdom with hostile suspicion, and never was he a father to you again, but a stranger.

none of this changes the fact that your father was weak, as well as every other kingdom that operated beneath you. now, that very knight is standing before you with one unrelenting desire—not to kill you, but… to love you? all of your faithfulness in sacrificing yourself for the sake of the world has been reduced to nothing right before your eyes. 

you sink to the floor, lacy underskirts pooling helplessly around your legs, and clasp your hands around his steeled greaves. it is the first time you have left the seat of the throne in many, many years. but you do so to lay your case before this knight, this new king, on behalf of the common peoples who are stuck in this timeless crack of history, where dying means to never have existed.

“please,” you beg. “put this evil far from you! you know not what you are doing.” 

“my girl, is it an evil thing that i have chosen to love you and spare you? rather, have you not been burdened by such an evil thing the "gods" are setting against you?” he leans down to pet your head. “your isolation has maddened you, poor thing. come, i shall comfort you.” 

you shake your head furiously but you can do nothing as he drags you with little effort by your underarms to what is now his place on the throne. his clanking armor rests in the seat which you have sat, and you feel a sort of power come out from you. you come to the realization that the exchange of rule and royal hands has finally occurred, but all for the wrong reasons.

the dark knight sits you on his lap. sharp edges dig into the back of your legs. you turn to shove and push and punch but a strange weakness has taken you, and you hardly cause the man to budge in his upright position. after a few minutes of your senseless onslaught, the knight wrestles your arms down with just one hand.

“enough of your whining, [name],” he growls. “we must tend to our kingdom now. how ever are you to help the peoples when you act so childishly?” 

you spit in his face. a bastard ascending from squalor dares to speak to you so familiarly? to touch you so intimately? this is no king worthy of your respect and submission and service. but of course, though, your act of rebellion does nothing and the dark knight laughs cruelly at your feeble attempts to disrespect and defy him. the deep sound rumbles from beneath his breastplate and he only seems to tighten his grip on you further. 

“no matter. i'll see to it that my darling is trained to be on her best behavior from now on. your father never did such a thing, did he?” he taunts you, but it is nothing but fondness. 

you slump down in his iron-clad grip, defeated. conquered. 

“on this day forth,” the knight raises his voice as if talking to a crowd, but there is no one to hear but you. “i have taken my rightful place as king, and will rule over these cursed lands for the rest of my days. as for the princess…” he seems to move his head to look down at you huddled in his arms.

“she, too, has taken her rightful place… as my fair consort, eternal.” 

[vickillaman]

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

(non-native english speaker’s rumbling here, be warned) So far so many of the “critical“ takes of the viewers consist of pure emotion, misinformation and personal biases. Look, everyone has a tendency to fall victim to the lenses of their own belief system through which we perceive and assess the story and I’m no exception, but it’s extremely frustrating to see people choosing one side or another, highlighting certain traits and acts while downplaying and erasing others in a celebration of their own perspective, in a show that makes a heavy emphasis on a complexity and contradiction of human nature. “Silco had done bad things for a good goal”. The people that he wanted a better future for are addicts, forever scarred with effects of Shimmer. Children that he wanted a better future for were working in the factories to produce said shimmer. Moreover, he was willing to kill children of a woman to whom he promised a better future for. Does the end justify the means here? But, on the good side, Piltover was clearly afraid of Zaunites, the council and the citizens did view the undercity with contempt but, as Jayce stated, “enforcers are afraid to step foot in the Lanes”. Silco is a flawed character whose initial motive was building a better Zaun for future generations to come. He saw one of his closest friend’s body on the ground adding to a pile that are loved ones to Zaun and animals to Piltover. And the other friend, the one that was like a brother to Silco, enraged and lost his mind with unattainable loss for absolutely nothing in return, betrayed him and cruelly left him to die. And Silco decided to leave everything good that he believes made him weak and therefore needed to be left behind in order to win and achieve his ultimate goal. And that’s what made him willing to hurt and abuse vulnerable citizens that are already hurt and abused by the hands of the government that despises and looks down on them, and their own city desperate to fight for whatever little scraps of food and coins they are left with because he wanted to rise to power and for Zaun to become independent and feared. Silco firmly believed that base violence is necessary for change. And in pursuit of creating The Nation of Zaun he used that said nation as a stepping stone: preying on the vulnerable and elevating the powerful.

“Caitlyn poisoned the air with the Grey, innocents got hurt”. She used a factory smog as a chemical weapon to target specifically the chembarons and dismantle shimmer that crippled people for years. It’s not long-term and it dissipates. That is not an ideal solution, but it certainly serves as a much better alternative to the full-scale invasion. But I feel like the use of the Grey became a symbol of a new wave of hatred and a reinforced disdain. And honestly? This is the least concerning thing out of what she has done. The worst of all is a moment when she points a rifle at Jinx while a child clings to her. She’s so desperate to not miss the shot and hesitate again that she doesn’t even allow herself to think of what could happen if she missed (Caitlyn is an excellent shot, yes, but she also just got shaken by the hextech glitch and clearly missed when she aimed for Jinx) or what if she didn’t miss? That child would’ve been forced to live with a scarring memory of a cold-blooded murder of the person who protected her and gave her a sense of hope for her future. Caitlyn is a flawed character whose initial motive was to complete the investigation and get to the truth, to put it simply. But that motive is rooted in a desire to be seen for her own achievements and not an an extenstion of her family’s legacy, and to see the real world. She’s generally detached from Piltover and Zaun: she despises the council of and never felt like she belonged in the first, and was scared but intrigued by the latter. Her investigation that’s supported by the privileges of feeling untouchable and having limitless resources as a Kiramman and possessing an empathetic nature and a moral code paired with undeniably excellent skills as Caitlyn led her to realise that Piltover holds completely unjustified prejudice against Zaun and from there, she’s determined to do everything in her power to help. Her good heart and well placed intentions left her in a midst of guilt and grief and a new responsibility to earn and uphold her name’s legacy. She goes on committing a chain of questionable acts with a goal to erase potential threats to Piltover but, most importantly, a goal to get herself another shot. And when grief starts to subside bit by bit and the sharpness of emotions dulls with months passing by, she questions herself and everything around her: “Why is peace always the justification for violence?“ She sees a monster and a reason for everything that said monster has done right in front of her and she’s instanly brought back to her mother’s funeral, and understands that she is no better. And when the fog in her mind is finally cleared, with no one to reaffirm the worst intentions in her, she’s left with an immense amount of self-frustration and self-hatred. But Caitlyn is willing to do everything to make up for it even though she feels like it will never be enough.

If you make an entirely positive or entirely negative assessment of the character or their acts, your assessment is wrong.

Tell the full story. Say what happened. Recognize the character for who they are, recognize the actions for they are, don’t twist them and don’t erase them. Try to put your prejudices aside and understand. And you can argue that Arcane has many flaws but even so, it is still an incredibly rare piece of media and art that was crafted with outstanding care and respect to its audience. And one of the purposes of art is to teach you to see. To see all of it: the good, the bad and the ugly.

[yubellia]

OH MY GOSH! Season 6 is here! And Cerise/Lila whoever was super creepy and amazing!

„Nothing. Hah. Nothing. You know nothing about me, about us, about them. I‘m everywhere. I‘m nowhere. I‘m a chameleon. Nowhere. You won‘t get anywhere.“

——~~~——

Not gonna lie, I really don‘t like what they did to Marinette. The girl is struggling…. We get that…. But did they really have to make her act like this? She can‘t even really keep it together als Ladybug anymore. She can be lucky that the miraculous prevents people from noticing the obvious similarities.

But back to Cerise! We don‘t see her face in the entire episode. We only have her voice but that’s enough already. After all, sound is almost more important than visuals. What would Micheal Myers be without the iconic sound. Try it. Mute the movies. It won‘t work.

But anyway. I wonder, when she akumatized that girl, this is how she handles things. She just talks and offers a solution like a good friend. Siding with her victim. She doesn’t even demand anything. No „I’ll give you that power. In return I want Ladybugs and Chat Noirs miraculous!“ No. None of that!

Also, the camera zoomed in, almost like we were going into the victims head. Is this what actually happens to you, when you get akumatized? Bah! Imagine having Gabriel in your head like that! No sir. Thank you!

Could it be, that up until now, we saw the whole process from the outside? That would be so cool. It would also mean that Cerise clearly….. goes deeper that Gabriel could.

Also, we learned something very important. Apparently, they don‘t know better yet, Cerise akumatizes people randomly without the goal to attack. She just lets them cause chaos and the heroes come out. At first.

We also learn that Cerise writes EVERYTHING down!! Like girl, be careful with your hand! That must hurt! Also she technically creates tons of evidence. If she looses ONE of those notebooks, it’s game over. Unless she writes in code….. would not be surprised.

Also the end of the episode, where she is in the café „Nothing. Hah. Nothing. You know nothing about me, about us, about them. I‘m everywhere. I‘m nowhere. I‘m a chameleon. Nowhere. You won‘t get anywhere.“

I am not sure if she completely lost it NOW, if she ALWAYS was crazy like this, or, with her disguises and all, she is completely stating the truth.

But I know one thing.

I LOVE HER FOR IT!! I can‘t wait to actually see her! Also it seems like she upgraded her miraculous, just like Marinette did with all the others. At least that’s what I heard, could be a leak. She got the guardians book too after all from Nathalie in that one episode, together with all of Gabriel’s secrets.

So yeah… the new season started…. A bit meh. I really wish they could have given us the REAL first episode. But it seems like there is something wrong with the continuity anyway. Alya and Nino interviewed Sublime‘s mom, but she didn’t appear yet…. Strange….

But anyway, we might be missing some lore here.

I am still excited for more.

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Day 11: Convenience Store/Emerald

The ice cream drops into Kara’s basket with a rattling thud that jars her frazzled nerves even more than the humming of the flickering convenience store lights. Alex’s words echo in her ears. Words like “reckless” and “unnecessary risk” and “I should send you to the medbay. I didn’t realize that fight with Corben had melted your BRAIN.”

  Kara felt that last one was a bit much. It wasn’t like she’d been hurt or anything. And all those people in the L-Corp lab had been saved! As far as she’s concerned, that’s an absolute success!  Kara drops another pint into her basket. It hits her already tall stack and rolls off. Should she get a fourth basket? No. The plastic grocery bags might rip on her flight home.  She puts the pint back with a resigned sigh. 

And you know what? Her plan had been solid. Sure, it was risky to go straight through the kryptonite powered robots without waiting for backup but she’d been on a time crunch! And maybe Alex should think about issuing less dumb orders if she wanted Kara to follow them. “Wait while we identify the bomb” what kind of stupid idea was that? It was already ticking! 

She’s just turning the corner, still thinking about Alex and the fact that she’d actually seemed a little disappointed when Kara had told her Lena survived when she nearly slams into someone coming the opposite way. It’s only her superspeed that averts the collision as she jerks to the side just in time. In her distracted state, however, it is not enough to prevent one of her baskets from clipping the stranger’s arm, sending both her ice cream and their groceries tumbling to the floor. 

 “Oh— Oh my gosh I am so sorry! I can help you clean this up. I— Lena?” 

And it is. Tied hair mostly covered by a junky black hoodie Kara hadn’t even imagined she owned, Lena stares back at her with equal surprise behind a a pair of sunglasses. She smells faintly of burned plastic. And alcohol. 

“Hi… Kara. Nice… seeing you here?” 

Kara doesn’t think it’s intended to be a question, but she answers anyway. “It is! I would’ve thought you had people to do your midnight shopping though.” 

Lena says nothing. Probably would have been nicer if Kara hadn’t thrown her stuff all over the floor. “Oh! Here, let me help you with your… rope…and bleach.” 

Both of them pause, surveying the unique collection of bottles of lighter fluid, rope, bleach, and cartons of boxed wine. 

“Well. Lovely seeing you.” Lena says, and then she has her things shoved into her basket and is power walking down the aisle as briskly as possible without breaking into a run. 

“Lena— Lena, wait!” Kara calls after her, scooping up her ice creams. Lena pays (in cash) and by the time Kara has paid and caught up with her she is opening the door of her car. “Lena!” 

Lena pauses and looks back. 

“Are you sure you should be driving?” Kara asks, “You seem a little. Uhh—” Sloshed? Tipsy? Buzzed? “…Tired.” 

“I’m fine Kara. I drove myself here. I can drive myself home.”

“Oh, I’m sure, I just— I saw the news today.” Kara says. 

Lena stiffens at her car door. “What about it? Not like it’s the first time.” She says. Her flippant tone is somewhat undercut by the force with which she throws her bag into the back seat. 

“You almost died today. I— I heard Supergirl was cutting it pretty close with that bomb.” Kara says. It’s an understatement. After the robots and decoy bombs Kara only had arrived as it went off. It was a miracle Lena hadn’t been badly burned from the heat of the blast before Kara had gotten her cape around her.  

Lena shrugs. “Yeah, well. Another gift from Lex.” 

“Lena, that’s worse!” Kara says, harsher than she’d intended. 

Lena stops, and Kara gets the impression that Lena is truly looking at her for the first time since they met in the store. She pulls down her sunglasses, and blinks in the sudden light. Tipsy or no, her gaze is as sharp as ever. Then she sighs.

“Tell you what. You tell me what drove you to buy 37 pints of ice cream, and I tell you what the lighter fluid is for.” 

_______________

“It’s really not a big deal,” Kara is saying, as they enter the elevator to Lena’s office, her hands finally relaxing from the white knuckled fists they’d been in for most of the drive. If Lena crashes the car, Kara should be fast enough to keep everyone safe if she’s paying attention. I mean. If anything made drunk driving safe it’s having Supergirl in the passenger’s seat, right? “It’s not like I almost got blown up.” 

Kara cringes at her own words— sweet rao why did she SAY that— but Lena only shrugs. “Seems like it matters to you.” 

Kara doesn’t have much of a rebuttal to that. “Yeah. It does, I guess.” 

“Kara?” 

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“Oh! Right. Alex and I argued.” It seems such a silly complaint now, standing next to Lena.

“What about?” Lena asks, pressing a fob to the elevator key. 

Kara pauses, searching for the right words. “I… did something… risky. At work.” Lena meets her eyes with a smile. 

“Kara Danvers? Do something risky in the pursuit of journalistic truth? Never.” 

Kara laughs, but the laughter fades quickly. “Alex was investigating the same thing I was. And she… uhh. Didn’t like my methods.” 

“Didn’t like you putting yourself at risk?”

“No. And today— today maybe came a little bit closer than I would have liked. But my plan worked! And nobody was hurt!”

“But you scared Alex.”

Kara sighed. “But I scared Alex.” The doors of the elevator open, and Lena pulls the bleach out of her shopping bag. “Sometimes I just feel like— I don’t know. Like she won’t let me be my own person. Like she’s so scared I’m going to get myself hurt that she won’t let me take a step on my own. Like she doesn’t trust me to. She’s always looked after me ever since I arrived. To the Danvers, I mean.” 

Lena blinks. “You’re adopted?” 

_______________

The smell of wine grows stronger when Lena opens her office door, and Kara tracks it to the large  purple stain that has spread across the white rug by the desk. Kara looks at Lena in question and Lena lifts the bottle of bleach with a guilty smile. 

_______________

“Have you ever bleached a rug before?” 

“No, but it can’t be that hard. You just. Like. Soak it, right?” 

“I guess? Don’t you need to dilute it?” 

“Please. This isn’t even lab grade. It can’t be that bad.” 

_______________

Ten minutes later, once they have thrown the now faintly smoking rug down the incinerator chute (Of course, I have an incinerator in my office. I run experiments, Kara), Kara finally asks, “So, you were going to tell me about the lighter fluid?” 

“Ah! Yes. Would you grab the rope? We need to bind these papers.” 

Lena doesn’t elaborate further until they’ve taken the old bags and stacks of papers and journals downstairs and out to the little park across the street from L-Corp. Or, well, Kara carries most of it as Lena struggles with her single bag. When Lena has her breath back she pants, “You’ve been holding out on me Danvers. What else do you have hiding under those cardigans of yours?” 

“Me?” Kara feels her face heat as she chokes out, “Nothing! Nothing hiding. I mean. My shirt.” 

Lena laughs like Kara’s said the funniest joke in the world and Kara relaxes. She should be more careful about lifting things. Alex would kill her if Lena found out she was Supergirl. Come to think of it Alex would kill her if she heard that Kara was alone in the park, at night, with Lena Luthor. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you have some compulsion that drags you to the nearest near-death opportunity?” 

Kara hefts the papers. Alex can suck it. 

“So, umm. What are all these?” She asks, depositing her stacks by Lena’s bag. 

“My brother’s things form the L-Corp office. Apparently, he left behind some items last time he was here. Notes, Photos, and the like. Nobody claimed them after Metropolis, so they just sat in the office cabinet. The ones the police didn’t confiscate anyway.” 

“Oh,” Kara says, eloquently. “And you wanted to do a… midnight de-clutter?” 

“Yeah.” Lena says, with a satisfied nod. “I’m gonna set it on fire.” 

“Wait, what?” 

But Lena is already grabbing rocks and arranging them in a tight ring, dropping a few journals at the center. “Would you pass me the lighter fluid?” She asks, before taking a large chug from a carton of boxed wine Kara had not realized Lena brought with her. She passes over the lighter fluid anyway. 

Lena sets about appropriately drenching the journals, takes another large gulp of wine (Kara scoots forward, hiding the other cartons behind the pile of paper.) then reaches into the bag. She freezes, then pats her pockets. “Damn!” She says, “I forgot to get matches.” She casts an eye across the park. “I suppose I’ll just have to make a spark.” 

Kara doesn’t know much about fire-starting technique, and the practiced way Lena moves suggests she does, so Kara doesn’t really move while Lena spins a small twig into a log. She succeeds in creating a small flame… which promptly goes out as Lena attempts to bring it closer to the soaked journal kindling. After several more attempts with the stick and a string of curses Kara isn’t sure are entirely in English, Kara bends over a pair of rocks and pretends to start sparking them. After a moment the campfire goes up in a roaring flame and Kara pretends to blink away the smoke while her eyes stop glowing. 

Lena beams at her. “You get more interesting by the moment, Kara Danvers. A veritable outdoorswoman.” 

Ears burning, Kara says, “Alex taught me.” And then, unfortunately, opens her mouth again. “She really likes explosives.” Dear god WHY— But Lena just nods like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say. Maybe it is in the Luthor house. Or maybe Lena’s just too drunk to know the difference. 

She tosses in a small paper pouch and the flames flash a brilliant, rippling green. Lena smiles. Her eyes reflect the fire like shining emeralds.  

  Kara feels a little dizzy. She’s hot again and she begins to sweat. She looks at the fading green flames again. Kryptonite? Lex is the kind of guy who would just have little baggies of powdered kryptonite in storage. What does she do now? Is this what Alex had been worried about? Kara begins to panic, before Lena picks up another paper sachet and whips it into the flames. Which promptly spark blue. 

“Copper.” Lena says when she catches Kara’s eye, a twinkling smile. “We used to mix up chemicals for homemade fireworks. Lillian would get so angry. Apparently smelling like sulfer and smoke is unbefitting of a Luthor.” She bends over the pile of packets and Kara hears, “Ooh! Potassium Chloride!” before the flames turn purple. 

And because Kara can never leave well enough alone, she says, “I am sorry, you know, about Lex.”

Lena stills with her back to Kara. 

“Why? Nothing changed for me today. He’s a homicidal madman. That isn’t new. I feel more sympathy for all the people caught up in that attack at the foundry across town.” 

“He was still your brother,” Kara says. “I’m sorry.”

“I guess that’s just how it is with siblings.” Lena replies. “You let them in close, they teach you everything you need to know, and then, when you least expect it, they stab you in the back.” She throws the last of the sachets into the fire. “Or blow you up.” 

And then, to Kara’s horror, Lena begins to cry. She turns away from the fire, hurriedly wiping away the tears from her face. She sniffs loudly, and laughs. 

“And, you know, I know it’s silly,” Lena says, voice trembling.“But I really thought he loved me.” 

“That’s not silly, Lena.” 

“Isn’t it? He’s done all these terrible things. This is— what? His fourth time trying to kill me? And even here, now, I look at these old notes and the only thing I can think about is when we used to sit in the treehouse and he’d tell me all about his latest projects.”

Kara picks up a photo from the pile. It’s old. Lena is probably around ten here. Lex still has his hair, a floppy early 2000s hairdo that looks almost comical knowing the man now. They’re playing chess. Lena is staring at the board, chewing on her lip with rapt focus, but Lex is looking at Lena. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. It almost looks like pride. 

“My family— My birth family were complicated people. And some of them did things that I could never understand.” Kara thinks of Astra’s wild eyes, of Non standing proud and cold before Ft. Rozz, her mother’s hologram. “I could spend the rest of my life trying to find what I could have done, what I should have said to change their mind.” Kara flicks the photo into the fire. “Sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. Sometimes they go places you can’t follow.” 

“Humans are just pathetic creatures I suppose. All of us chasing after useless things.” Lena says, and she tosses a pile of papers into the fire. Old calculations, landscape sketches, and notes fizzle as they hit the flames, sending sparks out across the grass. 

“There’s nothing pathetic about loving someone, Lena. Even if it does nothing but hurt.” 

Lena doesn’t respond, busying herself untying papers to burn. Kara stares at her a moment, a hundred somethings on her tongue, and then she hears something whistling in the distance. 

“Are those sirens?” 

“Run!”  ___________

They sprint around the last alley corner and stop, panting. (Both of them, this time. Kara’s getting really good at this fake exercising thing!) 

“I can’t hear them anymore,” Kara says. “I think we’re good.” Kara can actually still hear them, but they’re going the opposite direction, so that should be good enough. She and Lena stand in silence for a moment, both breathing heavily. They make eye contact. And burst out laughing.

“Oh my god!” Lena giggles, “Oh, I haven’t done this since boarding school.” 

“What kind of boarding school did you go to?” Kara asks in alarm.

“The expensive kind.” Lena says, slyly. And was she always standing so close? 

“It’s late.” Kara hears herself saying. “You should probably get yourself home.” 

“Probably,” Lena agrees. 

They stand there frozen, nose to nose in the alley, and Kara has that feeling again. Like there’s something there on the tip of her tongue. Like she should say something. Do something.  And then two cats flings themselves out of the dumpster next to them with an awful yowling and they spring apart. 

Lena clears her throat, straightening her dress. “Well, it’s very late. We should probably get back to the office. I need to drive you back home after all.” 

Kara does convince Lena to call a cab this time, but they don’t speak for the rest of the car ride.

Lena pauses at Kara’s door. 

“Thank you, for coming with me tonight. Not many people would help a Luthor with an unsanctioned nighttime bonfire.” 

“I’m not most people.” 

“No. No, I don’t get the impression you are,” Lena says with a wry laugh. “And don’t think I’m going to forget about you carrying down all those papers. Best be on your guard Ms. Danvers, or I’ll start calling you to help bring in all of the legal documents I have to wade through.” 

“You could, you know.” What is she saying? Why can’t she ever just shut her mouth— “Call me, I mean.” 

Lena smiles. “I might just take you up on that.” 

When Lena has gone and Kara has shut the door behind her, Kara slumps down onto the floor. 

Oh. Oh, Alex is going to hate this. 

[littlemisssquiggles]

Why did no one tell me about the little “omake” chapters of DandaDan?

I was today years old when I learned the existence of these little extra omake or bonus chapters of Dandadan that expand on what’s going on with some of the other DanDandan characters like the Aira and Evil Eye Jiji one for example.

I thought it quite cute that Evil Eye cared enough about Aira to help her with getting her old friends to start talking to her again. That was actually oddly sweet of him.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Evil Eye might secretly have a widdle crush on Aira. Doesn’t have to be true. I mean it’s just me spitting here.

But I’d be lying if Evil Eye crushing on Aira is definitely feeding into my thoughts on Aira and Jiji eventually being a couple.

I DO LIKE the Jijira ship. I mean Dandadan got me wracking up new ships to love like Uno cards with each new arc.

Already I’m Team Momokarun - obviously. Otherwise why am I even here if not to suffer at the hands of Yukinobu Tatsu as he proceeds to write the most beautiful shoujo romance love story disguised as a shonen battle anime that the world has ever seen and taking his sweet ass time doing it too. That magnificent romantic bastard.

---

I’m Team Jijira - I just think they’re NEAT okay? Our secondary BAKAS IN LOVE potential couple next to Momokarun.

No seriously, I think these two can actually work really, REALLY well together if Aira would just come to her senses of seeing that Okarun is OBVIOUSLY in love with Momo and NOT her, get over him and redirect her interest to the guy who is actually always by her side more than Okarun. Meaning Jiji.

As for Jiji and where he stands on love and romance. To all the people who keep saying that Jiji is in LOVE with Momo, I raise you one important question? Where? Where is this love you keep insinuating that Jiji has for Momo?

Believe me, I have watched the anime. I have read the manga up to date and all I’ve seen so far is a good boy who just simply cares very deeply for his childhood friend and is very protective of her. Nothing more.

I mean Aira is more obvious with her feelings for Okarun than Jiji is for Momo.

I dunno man. The Momiji ship and its shippers is giving me Zutara from Avatar vibes. Ya’ll up in here painting this magnificent love story between these two characters and telling everybody who would listen about it but when you actually read the ACTUAL canon content, there is nothing to insinuate anything like that at all.

Then again, I might just be biased because even IF Jiji DID in fact have a crush on Momo … that means shit because WE KNOW Jiji will NEVER end up with Momo BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH OKARUN AND HE LOVES HER TOO!

Not unless Tat-Tat writes an arc where there’s an alternative universe/ reverse time line type shit where Momo ended up with Jiji instead of Okarun due to weebly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.

And now thanks to Aira omake chapter with the Evil Eye, I have more reasons to believe that Jijira could be a possibility. Either way, my Jijira shipping heart has been fed.

---

I’m Team Vaminta: or Kintola? Whatever the official Vamola x Kinta ship is called. Doesn’t matter. Vamola is (literally) a queen and Kinta is her king. Nuff said!

My goat and baby girl deserve each other!

---

And finally; I’m Team Rinuma - yes, yes, I KNOW Rin and Zuma have yet to actually officially interact in the story but how can I NOT ship them prematurely. The girl with gravity powers making people float and the boy with the umbrella? C’mon it’s like poetry. The ship practically writes itself even if Tat-Tat hasn’t gotten there yet. I see the vision and I’m embracing it while I can; dagnabbit!

---

So yeah, those are my current favourite Dandadan ships. Returning to the omakes, I also enjoyed the Chiquitta one.

Did not know Chiquitta was attending school on Earth. I mean it would make sense since his father is currently working on Earth so that Chiquitta can get all the milk he can get to keep himself healthy and strong. Yeah makes perfect sense actually.

Loved the chapter showing Chiquitta protecting his classmates from older bullies. Like father, like son. Chiquitta got hands man! That’s our favourite kappa son!

Also Chiquitta imitating Jiji of all people when interacting with a girl is insanely cute. Of all the people for Lil Chiqui to copy, why Jiji of all people? Then again, better him that Kenta, am I right?

There’s also speculation now that the little girl that suspects Chiquitta to be an alien is actually related to Okarun.

Like she’s his little sister and that Okarun comes from a large family where possibly some of the background characters we’ve probably overlooked throughout the story may allegedly be related to our favourite Yokai speedster.

Personally I’m down for this theory since it’ll actually confirm Okarun as being from Earth instead of my crazy theory of him secretly being a member of a humanoid alien race who was abandoned on Earth at birth and raised by a human family or someting like that. .

Because we have yet to glimpse into what Okarun’s home life is as yet, it’s got me wondering if Okarun even has a family. I mean surely he has to have a home because in spite being a loner/outcast for most of his school life, Okarun is always well-clothed, well fed and stocked up on occult-related magazines.

So outside of the alien heritage theory, it wouldn’t surprise me if Okarun actually comes from a pretty wealthy family and the reason why he’s always seen ready and flexible to go off on his own without his parents wondering about his whereabouts is probably because Okarun’s parents/caretakers are probably living a life where they’re never home with him.

Perhaps Okarun’s parents work overseas and the reason for Okarun’s deep fascination with the occult is cause its related to his parents’ occupation.

Maybe his parents are archaeologists or astrologists or a pair of people who study these kind of things and often have to travel abroad for long periods of time while Okarun is left alone; unable to accompany them due to him attending school in Japan.

I mean, it would make sense why we haven’t seen them as yet in the story. To me, Okarun living alone because his parents work overseas sounds more plausible than them secretly being alien.

Perhaps the little girl who suspects Chiquitta of being an alien doesn’t necessarily have to be someone related to Okarun. Perhaps she’s his neighbour or something. Or maybe she doesn’t even know Okarun and is just someone related to Chiquitta’s side of the story.

On the subject of aliens, it would actually be pretty funny if Okarun’s parents were another pair of refugee aliens who have been living on Earth for years and thus Okarun is secretly an alien who was born and raised on Earth.

Like his parents brought him up on the occult to desensitize him to the existence of the alien race. Their race; although they never revealed the truth of their alien lineage to Okarun, wanting him to grow up believing himself to be just a “normal human boy on Earth” when he actually isn't.

I mean that’s another theory for the pool of possibilities.

If Okarun parents are indeed secretly aliens then imagine them being Ken Takakura fans as much as Momo is because his movies were the first thing they were exposed to once they came to Earth and thus they decided to take the surname of Takakura and named their Earth-born “alien” son, Okarun after him.

It would honestly be insane if there comes a time when Momo gets to meet Okarun’s parents and the first thing they bond over is their shared love for Ken Takakura.

That would actually be insanely cute.

Overall, these are just little headcanons. For all I know, there’s probably no twist to Okarun at all.

He could really just be a regular guy who, despite everything that life had thrown at him, lucked out and found the love of his life and the literal girl of his dreams when she just happened to be passing by on a bad day and noticed him for the first time.

That really could be just it.

Then again; who really knows.

We really have to see what Tat-Tat has cooking up in that noggin of his for this ongoing love story he's made.

The most I will say is that the longer the story drags on with us readers never seeing or knowing anything about Okarun’s homelife, the more this squiggle meister will start to believe that he’s secretly an alien until it’s debunked by the actual story.

~LMS (2025)

[mllemaenad]

See – this is what I missed from Veilguard. Most of Dragon Age is in a constant conversation about power and leadership. If this is your first playthrough, you won't know any of this is important yet. But the main point of Ostagar, beyond setting up the tragedy, is to give you an opportunity to meet all the major players. Because eventually, you're going to have to solve Ferelden's political crisis.

You can see that Cailan's bonhomie is likely genuine – but it's also a political tactic. His father, Maric, also knew how to bond with his subjects. And a tendency to run back into danger to rescue imperilled footsoldiers, while not perhaps tactically sound, was a solid way to win the love of the people who supported him during the rebellion.

But Cailan is is clearly not taking the darkspawn threat seriously. It doesn't necessarily matter if it's a "true" Blight or not: evidence suggests quite a lot of darkspawn are coming their way, and they need to take steps to deal with that. He's not necessarily stupid, but he has no real head for these kinds of tactics.

Loghain is established as the tactician. Everyone knows he's the brains of this outfit. Thing is, he'll tell you himself he thinks this situation is already well and truly out of control: "Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort".

It's not even that Loghain is rude, or more remote than Cailan; honestly he's incredibly polite, given that Seanna just summoned him from his tent because she wanted to see what this guy looked like. But Loghain will do what he deems tactically sound. He'll do it even if it means getting people killed who do not deserve to die.

And Alistair, there – well, at least as far as this goes, he's an excellent mix of both. He's clearly got Cailan's good humour (and once you know they share a father, that tracks), but he's also very clearly a thinker. There's plenty he doesn't know about the Grey Wardens because he's new, but he has absolutely done the reading. And he's sceptical where something smells like bullshit, and well aware of the political machinations going on around him.

The problem of Alistair is that if you suggest that he use those talents in order to be in charge of something, he will stick his head in the sand and yell I CAN'T HEAR YOU until you give up and go away.

Anora, of course, needs to wait a bit to make her case ... but we'll get there.

You can absorb all the things these people say and do, so when the moment comes, you can make the choices you believe are right for Ferelden.

And look, yes, I'm still mad about this:

I'm partly mad because, while I recognise that I would have got to participate in this decision if we'd saved Minrathous, that makes no bloody sense.

While I'll be the first to admit I'm not Inquisition's biggest fan either, I will give them this: when they say you can only choose to go to the mages or the templars, it is because you are taking sides in a conflict between those two groups. You can't reasonably rock up to both and say "Hey, want to be allies?" Moreover, it's not simply a matter of losing content from the choice. You get different content as a result of that choice. Samson or Calpernia, depending on where you went.

Minrathous/Treviso is specifically not a choice. You send teams to both. Immediately. Both cities are under threat and you divide the team to deal with it. The game simply makes it so the team containing Rook is successful, and the other team isn't. Absolutely nothing of note happened there.

And, despite some initial griping, we are still definitely working with Ashur and his Shadow Dragons. That relationship still exists. There really isn't any good reason to not have a quest here, except to artificially force re-playability without producing new content.

But honestly ... it's not even that. I'd probably have picked Dorian anyway, so it's not like I'm sour at not getting what I want. It's that ... this is probably the most politically significant decision in the entire game, and that screenshot above is the first I heard of it.

There's a solid argument to be made that, if the south is as badly off as the Inquisitor says, Tevinter is once again the major world power. The capital took a bit of a beating in the endgame, sure, but that was brief and explicitly solved at the end. The rest of Tevinter seems ... pretty much fine? They're no longer at war with Par Vollen, because Par Vollen doesn't have an army anymore. Orlais seems to be down for the count.

Now, there are other potential contenders (Nevarra seems to have weathered the crisis pretty well, and some of the Free Marches still seem to be standing ...), but Veilguard won't talk about politics unless you put a gun to its head, so who knows.

Tevinter is the big political player up for grabs ... its leadership could mould the next age ... but it doesn't come up. Regardless of who makes the decision, it should matter!

If I've got to the end of a Dragon Age game, and I don't know who is running the country I'm currently standing in ... something has gone very wrong.

[medicsbountifulbreasts]

Alr i need yall to walk with me

New batfam addition. A homeless teenage girl(im picturing around 16-17). She had to drop out of high school and is looking for a job but is struggling to find one due to how she looks. She hasnt had it easy on the streets, so she has scars on her face and body from various incidents. She has tried makeup, but nothing has worked to cover them yet.

Through some weird fucked up shenanigans she ends up finding out bruce wayne is batman bc she is trying to figure out how batman can live as a civilian when he should have so many identifying scars. She realizes that whoever batman is, he must be loaded to be able to afford the products, and theres only so many rich people in gotham with that build. She hunts the guy down while he's on patrol and demands to know what products he uses.

Bruce is astonished that this girl was

A) able to track him down

And B) was asking about his makeup routine

He gives her a list of the products he uses, and when that seems to satisfy her, he returns to his patrol.

A few days after that encounter, bruce can't stop thinking about the girl and her insane tracking skills. He does a background check and learns that she's just some homeless teen struggling to get by, and his weak heart can't help it. He sends alfred and tim (who is the closest in age to her) to find her and bring her to the manor.

The girl is shocked when bruce waynes butler and son come for her in one of the nicest cars she's ever seen. In the car ride to the manor, Tim is explaining that bruce would be interested in adopting her if she's open to the idea. He's not sure why he took an interest in her, but she would be an idiot not to accept. When they arrive she goes to meet bruce in his study and finds that he has a large gift basket of all of the products he had recommended to her.

Bruce tells her that he was incredibly surprised that she was able to track him down that night, and if she would like to stay here and work together with him, she would be more than welcome. He makes sure she understands that this was in no way a bribe to keep her quiet. If she chose to leave, he would do everything in his power to make sure she would still end up comfortable.

The girl, of course, accepts and becomes the newest Wayne daughter. Behind the scenes, she helps the batfam track down villains and robbers using both her uncanny intuition and her absurdly vast knowledge of gothams alleys, hideouts, and underground.

[discombobulatedderry]

Silent Steps, Lethal Hands

Hi, everyone! First time posting here, really. Still got no nerve to post in AO3, the idea is scary to me. So! I'll post here in Tumblr for now. I will mainly post Sevika or Ambessa fics, they're my muses! Do enjoy, I will most probably do one-shots, since I do not have enough drive nor time or energy or even the passion to keep updating a certain fanfic, college and life will definitely fuck me up. But, something tells me I'll have to lengthen this one into different parts.

Damn it.

Now, enjoy this story of Sevika x reader, or in this case, you're a foreign mercenary called Sylvara. It won't really be that much of an obvious fact though, I also want her to just be "x reader". Okay, really, enjoy!

;)

In the underbelly of Zaun, Sevika, Silco’s loyal right-hand, encounters a mysterious foreign mercenary named Sylvara, who has come to handle a secretive commission. As Sevika hunts for answers, the silent, deadly mercenary proves to be a challenge at every turn—both elusive and dangerously capable. In a tense game of cat and mouse, Sevika’s determination to uncover the truth clashes with Sylvara’s icy resolve, leading them down a dark path where loyalties, power, and secrets collide. Neither is willing to back down, but one thing is certain: both are playing a game with stakes higher than either realizes.

The Last Drop was busy tonight, but no one here seemed to care about the usual chaos in Zaun. There was always something going on—people stumbling in from Piltover’s high-class districts looking for “cheap thrills,” dealers peddling powders and potions, and mercenaries coming and going, looking for jobs and looking for blood. Sevika had seen it all before. She had run this city by Silco’s side for long enough, and nothing surprised her anymore. Not much at least.

But the figure seated at the bar? She was new. And not the kind of “new” you let slip by unnoticed.

A mercenary.

Sevika’s sharp eyes narrowed as she watched the foreign woman from her table as she took the wins from her recent gamble.

Lean, graceful, but there was something about the way she held herself that set her apart. Quiet. Calculating. Her presence didn’t scream for attention, but Sevika couldn’t help but be drawn to her, as if the air around her hummed with tension. The woman was dressed in simple, unassuming black leathers, with a black hood currently down, but Sevika could see the marks of a warrior—there was no doubt. The scarred skin peeking from the sleeves, the quiet confidence, the cold, detached way she moved. She was dangerous.

Ironically, Sevika craves danger. Masochist? Maybe.

No one came to Zaun for nothing. And no one moved through its underworld without purpose.

Sevika wasn’t here to let people like that slip through the cracks. So, she did what she needed to. Grunting, she stood up from the table, smirking a bit at the protesting men who lost against her in cards, before making her way over to the bar.

“You,” Sevika grunted, her voice a low rumble as she thumped the counter with her metal fist. “Speak.” She flicked her head subtly to the mysterious figure's direction.

The bartender, a man who had learned long ago to stay out of trouble and keep his mouth shut, gave a quick glance toward the foreign figure. Then he leaned in, his voice trembling due to Sevika's nature. “Don’t know much. Foreign. Seems like she’s only here for one thing.”

Sevika leaned in, her eyes burning. “Keep talking.” Her scowl imprinting on her face in impatience.

“Business. Hired for something... under the table. I don’t ask too many questions.”

Sevika hummed, lips curling into an even more obvious frown. “No questions, huh? Then maybe I will be the one asking.”

The bartender swallowed. “I wouldn’t if I were you... she’s a quiet one, but I’ve seen her handle a man twice her size in the blink of an eye.”

Sevika looked steely at the bartender, as if daring him to say that sentence again, as if to say just who the hell are you to order me around, as she stood up, her heavy boots thudding against the floor as she moved toward the far end of the bar. Her muscular frame parted the crowd like a wave splitting around a stone. She towered over most of them, but the foreign mercenary? She barely budged, her back still to Sevika as if she didn’t notice her presence at all.

“Got a lot of nerve sitting here,” Sevika’s voice cut through the noise, smooth but dangerous. “Most people around here can’t handle the weight of the city. You’re not from here, are you?”

The mercenary’s head didn’t turn. She took a sip from her drink, the faintest flicker of amusement flashing in her eyes. She didn’t answer.

Sevika was used to silence. Hell, she was the silencer around here. But something about this woman’s stillness intrigued her. A foreigner in the underbelly of Zaun, sitting unbothered by all the madness that surrounded her. The more Sevika watched her, the more she understood: this one wasn’t afraid of anything.

"Not one for words, huh?" Sevika muttered. She leaned against the bar next to the foreign figure, her arm resting on the counter, flicking her lighter open as her metallic hand fished for the cigarette in her pocket, huffing before lighting it. Her gaze flicked over the woman, eyes calculating. as she blew smoke from her cigarette. She can't deny, it was also a display to intimidate the stranger.

"The hell's a foreigner doing here in the Undercity? What are you, another Piltie? Go back, no one wants your donations.” Her irritated voice marked a clear intention, to intimidate her, to spew her very own thoughts about Piltover and foreign people in general, to make her leave. She blew the cigarette to the woman's direction on purpose.

Finally, the mercenary turned her head slightly, just enough for Sevika to catch the sharpness in her eyes. Dark, piercing. There was a dangerous edge in them, like a predator toying with its prey. A brief, sharp silence passed between them before she spoke.

“None of your concern.” Her face was stony, not caring if puffs and clouds of smoke attacked her face, her eyes, and her nose. Only a simple crinkle of her nose gave it away, and Sevika saw it.

Sevika grinned at that, glad that she gave a reaction, before leaning in closer. “Everything in Zaun is my concern.”

She let out a soft yet alluring chuckle, and there it was—confidence, a quiet sort of defiance. “You should be more careful, then.”

Sevika’s smile faded. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, a sense of danger finally catching her attention. This woman wasn’t just any mercenary. She was dangerous.

Shit.

For a moment, Sevika considered stepping back. But then she remembered who she was—Silco’s right-hand—the one who controlled this city’s pulse. If anyone could find out what this foreigner was up to, it was her.

"Alright," Sevika said, taking a step back, but not too far. "Fine, don't speak. I'm better at roughhousing answers anyways." She seethed out the final words slowly.

Sevika was quick, a master of hand-to-hand combat, her fists deadly weapons with the sheer force to crush a man in seconds. She moved like a storm, surging forward to grab the mercenary by the arm.

But she was faster.

In one fluid motion, she twisted her body just enough to avoid Sevika’s grasp, and with a sharp flick of her wrist, she sent Sevika’s metal hand crashing into the wooden counter. The sound echoed like thunder in the otherwise quiet room, definitely from the current display.

Sevika blinked, momentarily stunned. No one—no one—had ever avoided her grip so effortlessly. And yet, there she stood, unfazed, her posture as relaxed as before.

A slow, mocking smile crept onto Sevika’s face. “You’ve got some skills, I'll give you that.” Her voice carried a tilt of condescension, which made Sevika's vein in her forehead throb angrily.

Her lips twitched, barely enough to show that she might’ve enjoyed that comment, but it was gone before Sevika could be sure. “I don't do this for fun.”

A brief pause passed before she stood up, her long coat flowing with her every movement. She set her drink down, her fingers brushing against the glass in a lazy, almost absent motion. She was preparing for something. A dance, a fight—something Sevika couldn’t quite read yet.

“You’ve been trailing me long enough,” She continued, her voice quiet, but sharp as a knife. Direct as an arrow.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

Sevika took a step back, considering her options. The mercenary was skilled, no question about it. Dangerous, precise, silent. She was the kind of person that made things happen in the shadows. And now Sevika was standing right in the middle of that shadow, with no clear way out.

“I don’t like to be followed,” She cleared, her eyes narrowing in the displeasure of the idea as her eyes finally locked with Sevika’s, intense. "But if you're looking for answers, you can follow me. But know this: you won’t like the answer you get."

Sevika narrowed her eyes. "You think you can walk out of here without me making you talk?" She seethed out, her snarl intensifying.

She stood up straighter, her gaze not leaving Sevika’s, unflinching as she raised an eyebrow as if to say,

“Try me.”

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Sevika’s hand twitched toward her metal hand and the compartment of Shimmer inside it, but she stopped herself. Something about this was different. This wasn’t just some street rat she could wring answers out of. No, this was a mercenary with a purpose.

“Well,” Sevika drawled, “Let's get out of here, then, doll.”

The mercenary raised an eyebrow at the pet name, as if amused by the audacity, turned, walking out of the bar without a glance back. Sevika didn’t hesitate. She followed.

There was something about Sylvara’s calm, unbothered demeanor that grated against Sevika’s nature. Everything Sevika did was loud, forceful, meant to draw attention. But her? She was a ghost, slipping through the city unnoticed.

The two women walked side by side through the streets of Zaun, the buzzing lights above and the distant noise of machinery mingling with their footsteps. The city pulsed beneath them, alive and chaotic, but there was something about the way she moved—like she belonged here, like the chaos bent around her will.

“Don’t make me chase you,” Sevika said, her voice low and rough, with a hint of a threat.

Her lips curled ever so slightly. “You’re already chasing me.”

And for the first time in a long while, Sevika found herself wondering: who exactly was this woman?

[aspenmissing]

ᴀ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ ᴜɴᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ) || ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5612 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʟᴏᴏꜱᴇʟʏ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ ʟᴏʀᴇ (ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴄᴄᴜʀᴀᴛᴇ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇʟɪɴᴇꜱ, ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇQᴜᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇꜱ. ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ’ꜱ ʟɪᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʟᴇᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɢɪᴄ ꜱᴀᴄʀɪꜰɪᴄᴇ, ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴄʏᴄʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ ꜰʀᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴛᴇ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

Jayce lay on the cold, cracked stone floor of a ruined Piltover, his breath ragged and painful. His body was battered from the fall, his leg broken and the weight of the situation sinking in. The pain throbbed mercilessly in his leg, but what really gnawed at him was the overwhelming silence that surrounded him.

This wasn't the Piltover he knew. The city, once a symbol of hope and progress, had been utterly decimated. The Hextech core, the very thing he'd dedicated his life to, had spiralled out of control, but he hadn’t expected this.

It all started when he, Heimerdinger, and Ekko had gone to investigate the Hexcore. They’d noticed strange readings emanating from it—corruption spreading through the city, tainting everything. What they had stumbled upon was far worse than any of them could have imagined. As they delved deeper into the Hexcore, they discovered an anomaly, something so powerful and chaotic that none of their attempts to reverse it had succeeded. The next moment, a sudden blast of energy consumed them, and Jayce had been thrust into this strange, twisted version of Piltover.

This new Piltover was nothing like the one he knew. The skyline was dark, the air thick with the scent of decay and destruction. There was no sign of life, only the remnants of buildings that had been torn asunder. In the distance, he could hear the faint rumblings of collapsing structures, but there was no movement, no sound of people. It was a graveyard—a city lost to time, forever marked by Viktor's success in corrupting everything.

Heimerdinger and Ekko were nowhere to be found. And Jayce? He was trapped in a deep pit, a vast ravine where jagged rocks surrounded him like prison bars, his broken leg making escape impossible. The sheer weight of the situation was crushing. The deeper he tried to breathe, the more his chest ached. There was nothing he could do. His mind began to cloud, panic and exhaustion taking their toll.

As the hours passed, the hallucinations began. At first, they were fleeting, shadows at the edges of his vision. But then, through the haze of pain and fever, he saw her.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his voice breaking. She was there—standing before him, bathed in the pale light that filtered through cracks in the stone above. His heart skipped a beat, the sight of her both a relief and a torment.

She didn’t speak, but she was there. She was real. Jayce blinked, trying to clear the fog that had settled in his mind. Was she an illusion, a product of his fevered mind? He couldn’t tell. But the sight of her—the way she stood there with an unspoken strength—kept him tethered to the present. For a moment, he thought he imagined it all, that the pain had made him dream of her.

But she didn’t fade away.

Her presence was so vivid, so real.

Jayce let his eyes fall shut once more, the weariness dragging him back into unconsciousness.

When he awoke again, the pain was sharper. His leg was a gnawing, constant throb, and his chest was heavy with each breath. Yet, there she was. Y/N knelt beside him, her hands working swiftly yet carefully. Her fingers brushed over his broken leg, then reached for the shards of his shattered hammer, twisting and bending them into a makeshift splint.

Jayce winced, unable to stifle the cry of pain as she worked. He felt her hands—strong yet gentle—stabilising his injury, creating something out of the very thing he had once built. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His hammer, the symbol of his power, now used to hold him together.

"You’re real, aren’t you?" he muttered through clenched teeth, his voice weak and fragile. She didn’t respond with words. Instead, she gave a small, knowing nod, her eyes steady on his. In the depths of his delirium, he found that reassuring. The hallucinations he’d feared would swallow him whole didn’t feel like this. This—her presence—felt like something more.

Her hands moved deftly, gathering newts from the shallow pools nearby. Jayce barely noticed as she returned, her hands full of the creatures, but his stomach churned at the thought of eating. Y/N didn’t flinch. She cleaned and prepared them with a quiet precision, offering him food. He swallowed, the small meal sticking painfully in his dry throat.

"Are you real?" Jayce asked again, almost pleading.

She didn’t speak, only placed her hand over his, pressing her warmth into him. Her presence was his lifeline, her touch grounding him in the chaos of his own mind.

As the sky darkened, the temperature dropped. Jayce shivered violently, his body too weak to provide any warmth. Y/N didn’t hesitate. She lay beside him, her body pressed close to his, wrapping him in warmth. There was no need for words between them. Her presence, her silent care, spoke volumes.

She kept him warm through the night, her body a shield against the cold of the ravine and the haunting darkness of the world around them. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, of the strange place they were trapped in. But Jayce—exhausted beyond belief—felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness.

But there she was. Y/N. No matter what twisted reality this was, she was here.

His thoughts were muddled, feverish. The ravine felt like a prison. Piltover’s destruction echoed in his mind, but for a brief, fleeting moment, all that mattered was her.

Y/N was here.

Jayce forced his eyes open one last time, looking into her face. Her eyes met his in the dim light, and he whispered hoarsely, "Are you a dream, Y/N?"

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she moved her hand gently over his chest, the soft pressure of her touch a silent reply. In that moment, Jayce knew. She wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t a hallucination.

She was real. She was there, keeping him safe, keeping him grounded.

As the night stretched on, and Jayce drifted between fevered delirium and the calmest sleep he’d ever known, he clung to one truth: no matter what had happened to Piltover, no matter how much time had passed, they would always find a way back to each other.

Through the endless darkness of the ravine, in a world destroyed by Hextech, Y/N’s presence was the only constant. The only thing that made him feel alive.

And for as long as she was with him, Jayce knew he wasn’t truly alone.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Jayce's world became a blur of pain, fever, and fractured memories. The pit where he was trapped became his entire world—its cold walls, the jagged stones beneath him, the intermittent sounds of collapsing ruins outside. Time had no meaning here. The only constants were the gnawing ache in his leg, the rumbles of destruction in the distance, and the unshakable presence of Y/N.

She remained with him.

Silent, as always.

The longer he lay there, the more his mind began to unravel, but no matter how fractured his thoughts became, one thing was always clear: she was still there. Always there. Sometimes in the dark, when the wind howled outside and the city was shrouded in eerie quiet, he would wake to find her sitting near him, her eyes calm, her presence soothing. Her face never spoke a word, but her actions always did.

Days and nights blurred together. At first, Jayce had tried to keep track, marking the days on the stone wall beside him, using fragments of his shattered hammer as makeshift tools. But soon, even that became too much. His mind grew foggier with each passing week, the fever never truly subsiding, his body too weak to keep up. Yet, Y/N never left.

She kept the fire burning. Her hands, nimble and sure, would fetch water from the stagnant pools around the ravine, even though the water was barely drinkable. She gathered small creatures—newts, fish, anything that might sustain them—and prepared them with an eerie calmness, as if this strange world they were trapped in had no effect on her. There was a gentleness in the way she moved, as though she understood the weight of the world but carried it with a quiet grace.

As time stretched on, Jayce could feel his own grip on reality slip. Sometimes, he could no longer tell if it was day or night, if his mind was playing tricks on him, or if Y/N was truly there with him. But she never wavered. She never disappeared.

One night—if it could even be called night—when the dark felt thicker than usual, Jayce woke to find Y/N sitting beside him. She had done this many times before, but tonight was different. The weight of the silence seemed heavier, more oppressive, as if even the air itself was holding its breath. She had brought more than food and water this time. She had a blanket—one she had managed to scavenge from the remnants of Piltover. It wasn’t much, but it was warm, and she wrapped it around him with a tenderness that struck him deep in his chest.

Her actions spoke louder than any words could. She wasn’t just keeping him alive—she was preserving something in him. Hope. A glimmer of something more than the death and destruction that surrounded them.

As the months passed, Jayce’s leg healed in its own way, but it was never fully right. He could still feel the deep pain when he tried to move, the jagged edge of the broken bones pushing at his skin, but the splint Y/N had made from his shattered hammer had held. She had never once complained or left his side. Even when he lost himself to the delirium, she stayed, her presence a constant, unspoken reassurance that he wasn’t entirely lost.

There were times when he would drift in and out of consciousness, and in those moments, Y/N would sit beside him, always close, her hand on his, her warmth a tether to the world he had nearly forgotten. She had never spoken a single word. Not once.

Sometimes, Jayce thought she was a figment of his broken mind, a manifestation of his desperation for connection, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that she wasn’t just a ghost of his broken mind—she was a symbol of something greater. She had survived this devastation with him. And her silence? It wasn’t a void—it was a conversation in itself. She spoke with her touch, her gaze, the small, thoughtful gestures she made. In her stillness, there was a language that no words could capture.

It was one evening, months into their strange existence, that Jayce realised the truth of what was happening. Y/N, without ever saying a word, had become his lifeline. He wasn’t surviving this wasteland alone—she was there, walking beside him in silence, guiding him without ever needing to speak.

Even as the desolation of Piltover loomed over them, even as the world outside continued to crumble, Jayce began to understand that her presence wasn’t a dream. It was real. She was real. And she had stayed with him for as long as he could remember.

For all the destruction that had surrounded them, Y/N had become his anchor. She had become his reason to hold on.

There were moments, rare as they were, when Jayce would try to speak—his voice a hoarse rasp, his words unsure. "I… I’m sorry," he’d say, his eyes flicking to hers. "I never thought we’d be here. I never thought I’d fail so completely."

But she would only respond by resting her hand on his chest, her thumb brushing over the fabric of his torn jacket, as though to say, It’s alright. As though to say, I’m here. I’ve always been here.

And Jayce would smile, a soft, tired smile, though he was unsure if she could see it in the dim light of the ravine. He couldn’t find the strength to speak anymore, but he didn’t need to. Not when she was there, silently caring for him. Not when her touch, her silence, spoke more than any words ever could.

The months passed, one by one, and still, she remained. Jayce began to realise that no matter what had happened to Piltover, no matter how far he had fallen, there was something in this silence that spoke louder than any battle he had fought in the past.

It wasn’t just survival anymore. It was hope, tethered to the presence of the one person who never left.

And as long as she remained, even in the heart of ruin, he would cling to that hope.

The days, weeks, and months of silence had left Jayce broken in a way he hadn’t realised until it was too late. She had stayed with him for so long, an ever-present anchor to a world that was no longer his own. But one day, just as suddenly as she had arrived, Y/N was gone.

He had woken, groggy and delirious, his body still aching, the familiar coldness of the ravine pressing against his skin. But she wasn’t there. Not sitting by his side, not holding his hand, not bringing him the small creatures to eat. The silence in the air felt heavier without her, like a weight pressing down on him from all sides.

"Y/N?" His voice cracked as he called out, but the name echoed in the vast emptiness of the ravine, swallowed by the cold stone walls. "Y/N, where are you?"

But there was no answer.

He waited, for hours, for days—it all blended together. He had to believe she would return, that this was some cruel trick his mind had played on him. But she never did. There were no familiar sounds of movement, no rustling of clothes, no soft footsteps that always seemed to draw nearer. The ravine grew colder without her presence, and Jayce’s heart sank deeper with each passing hour.

She was gone. And now, more than ever, he was truly alone.

It was the agony in his leg, the sharp, biting pain that cut through the numbness of his grief, that finally spurred him to action. He couldn’t just stay here. He couldn’t let the world consume him entirely. With what little strength he had left, Jayce forced himself to sit up, the pain in his leg shooting up his spine with the movement. His body screamed in protest, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. He had to leave this place. He had to find out where Y/N had gone.

Clutching the jagged rocks of the ravine’s walls for support, Jayce started to climb. Each movement sent fresh waves of pain coursing through him, but he pressed on. He couldn’t afford to stop. Not now. His muscles screamed, his breath came in ragged gasps, but he forced himself upward, inch by agonising inch.

Hours passed—he didn’t know how long—but he finally reached the top.

The moment he stepped onto solid ground, a strange, magnetic pull washed over him, a force that seemed to draw him in. His body felt light, almost weightless, as if the very air was guiding him somewhere. He stumbled forward, ignoring the voice inside his head that screamed at him to stop. He didn’t care. He was being pulled toward something. And he had to follow.

Jayce limped forward, his injured leg dragging behind him, but the pull was irresistible. The Hexgate loomed ahead, its ominous glow reflecting the chaos of the ruined city. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He just moved.

The pain in his leg flared as he reached the gate, but he barely noticed. He was closer now. The pull was stronger, undeniable. As if guided by an unseen force, he stepped through the Hexgate, feeling the world shift around him.

When he emerged, he found himself standing atop of the hexgate, overlooking a landscape he didn’t recognise. The world felt different here, distorted, somehow wrong. He looked down, his heart seizing in his chest.

Lying in front of him, bathed in an eerie light, was a body—decomposed and corrupted. A man’s body. The features were barely recognisable, but the hammer clutched in his outstretched hand told Jayce everything he needed to know.

It was a version of him. A corrupted version of himself, twisted by the destruction that had ravaged Piltover.

A wave of horror and confusion crashed over him, but before he could process it, a voice broke the silence.

"You’ve come a long way, Jayce."

A figure appeared before him—tall, cloaked in a white robe, his face shadowed. The figure’s presence seemed to bend the very air around him, and Jayce’s breath caught in his throat as he recognised the man standing before him.

"Viktor?" Jayce whispered, disbelieving.

The older man—Viktor, but different—nodded slowly. His eyes, now dark and unsettling, held a depth Jayce had never seen before.

"I know you have many questions," Viktor said, his voice low and filled with sorrow. "But first, you must understand something."

He stepped forward, motioning to the small marble table nearby. Beneath a glass casing, there was a figure lying still, perfectly preserved. A wave of recognition washed over Jayce as his eyes fixed on her.

It was Y/N.

But not as he had last seen her—her face was unmarked, untouched by time, and she looked as though she had been frozen in that moment when they first met. Her body was the same as it had been in his world—no corruption, no rot. The light around her seemed to make the glass casing she lay in glow with an almost ethereal quality.

Jayce’s breath caught in his chest. His legs carried him forward without thinking, his hand instinctively reaching out to press against the cold, unyielding glass.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked as he whispered her name, disbelief flooding his mind. "She—she’s— . How? Why?" The questions spilled from his lips in a broken rush.

Viktor’s eyes softened for a moment, but a trace of guilt remained in them, like an old wound that hadn’t fully healed. He gestured to the seat before the table, his voice low and steady.

"Sit, Jayce," Viktor said, his tone heavy. "There is much you need to understand."

Jayce’s eyes never left Y/N’s figure, still and perfect in her glass prison. He slowly lowered himself into the chair, his mind spinning with confusion. His gaze flickered back to Viktor, who seemed to know something Jayce didn’t, something that made his heart pound with dread.

"In your timeline," Viktor began, his voice quieter now, "your Viktor is currently taking over the minds of everyone. He has become something like a hive mind... Y/N is one of those in his hive. He keeps her right beside him, her consciousness bound to his."

Jayce’s heart pounded at the mention of Y/N, but Viktor continued, his eyes flicking between the glass casing holding Y/N’s frozen form and the corrupted statue of Jayce standing nearby.

"In this timeline," Viktor said, his voice tinged with regret, "I am the reason she died. When my Jayce was faced with the choice to kill me, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear the thought of ending my life, and in return, Y/N became... what you see now. Trapped in time. Her body preserved, but frozen in an endless loop, as though she were suspended between worlds."

Viktor’s gaze lowered to Y/N’s still body in the casing, the weight of the truth pressing heavily on him. "Everyone else became... those mechanical dolls, the husks you see in the machine. But Y/N... she stayed as she was. Untouched by the corruption. Unchanged. To her, it’s as if she’s in an endless dream, living a perfect life, unaware of the world that has continued on without her."

Jayce’s fists clenched, his mind racing with a surge of emotion. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Viktor, the words heavy with rage. "So... you killed her. You did this to her."

Viktor flinched slightly, but his voice remained steady. "Not killed. She is still alive, Jayce. I assure you, she’s not dead. But she’s trapped in a state of limbo. To her, it’s as if nothing has changed, as if time has stopped for her. She lives on, unaware of the world around her."

The words hung in the air like a bitter truth. Jayce stood in silence, his chest tight with anger, heartbreak, and confusion. This was his fault. All of it. The woman he cared for, the one who had stood by him, who had helped him—now lost in a timeless prison.

"All of this..." Jayce's voice cracked as he spoke. "This is what happens when I don’t kill you?"

Viktor nodded gravely. "Yes. And when you sought to end me in this world, you set this chain of events into motion. The price of your anger—of our fight—was far greater than you realized." His voice was soft, almost mournful. "I never wanted this for her, Jayce. But now, she’s in this... frozen state. And I don’t know if I can undo it."

Jayce’s gaze hardened, his mind made up. He couldn’t allow this. He wouldn’t let Y/N be trapped in time forever, no matter the cost. Viktor’s words lingered, but his mind was already racing toward a single thought: revenge. He would stop Viktor. He would make sure his Y/N would never become the one frozen in time.

Jayce stood in the middle of the commune, the corrupted hammer clutched tightly in his hand. The air around him was thick with tension, the weight of everything he had learned pressing down on him. He had made a choice, but it wasn’t just for him—it was for her. He had to do this to save Y/N, to make sure she wasn’t lost forever.

As his gaze swept over the scene before him, his heart skipped a beat. There, in the centre of the commune, Viktor was suspended in mid-air. White tendrils of light snaked out from his back, his eyes closed in serene focus, as though he were deep in some kind of trance or meditation. The sight was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, an unnatural display of power that seemed to warp the very space around him.

And then there was Y/N. She lay on the floor beneath him, unmoving. Her body was still, her form serene as though in a deep, meditative state. Her face was calm, untouched by the chaos surrounding her, her chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths.

Jayce’s grip tightened on the hammer as he approached, his thoughts racing. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.

His voice was low but firm, full of resolve. "This has to be done... to save her."

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, the white light in his gaze flaring to life. He looked down at Jayce, a slow smile spreading across his face. His expression was filled with something Jayce couldn’t quite place—pride? Perhaps even a touch of pity.

Jayce’s heart raced, his mind made up. He couldn’t afford hesitation. Not now. Not when Y/N’s fate hung in the balance. With a swift motion, he raised the hammer high above his head.

Viktor’s smile doesn't falter as Jayce brought the corrupted hammer crashing down with all his might. The impact was deafening, sending shockwaves through the air. Viktor let out a strangled gasp, his body jerking in the air as the hammer struck him. His form crackled with the energy of his magic, but it was no match for the raw power that Jayce had brought to bear.

Viktor’s body crumpled, the tendrils of light dissipating as his form collapsed to the ground. Jayce stood over him, panting heavily, his chest heaving with the exertion of the strike. Viktor, once so powerful, was now nothing more than a broken heap on the ground, the life drained from him.

For a moment, Jayce stood there, breathless. He looked down at Viktor’s lifeless body, the weight of the action sinking in. He had done it. Viktor was gone. He had killed him, but it was for her.

Jayce turned quickly, his eyes searching for Y/N. She still lay on the floor, her body just as still as before. His heart skipped again as he rushed to her side, expecting her to wake up, expecting her to be free from the frozen state she had been trapped in.

But as Jayce knelt beside her, he realised something was horribly wrong. Her form remained limp. There was no sign of life in her at all. Her skin, once warm and full of life, was now cold to the touch. Her chest didn’t rise and fall; there was no breath, no heartbeat. Her face, so serene just moments ago, had taken on an unnatural stillness—an emptiness that pierced him with an unbearable weight.

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening with a mixture of disbelief and fear. This wasn’t what he had hoped for. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

His hands trembled as he reached for her, shaking her shoulder with desperate urgency. "Y/N... Y/N, please, wake up. Please, you have to wake up!" His voice broke as he whispered her name over and over, as if his words alone could undo the damage.

But there was no response.

A chilling dread slowly spread through Jayce’s veins, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. He couldn’t understand it. He had killed Viktor to save her, to set her free. He had done everything he could—this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. She should have woken up. She should have been free.

But she wasn’t.

The truth hit him like a physical blow, sharp and unrelenting.

She wasn’t trapped by Viktor.

She was gone.

Jayce pulled her into his arms, cradling her lifeless body against his chest as his tears blurred his vision. His throat was tight, suffocating. The hammer still dangled in his hand, cold and heavy—its weight a cruel reminder of the brutal decision he had made. It had all been for nothing.

His voice was barely a whisper, cracking under the sheer weight of his grief. "No... no, please. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to wake up. I—I did this for you. Please, Y/N, please..."

He clung to her, his sobs muffled against her cold skin, as though by some miracle, he could will her to return to him. But there was no miracle. No answer. Only the crushing silence that enveloped them both.

His hands shook as he pulled her closer, but the chill of her body felt more final than anything he had ever known.

"Why?" he whispered, the word leaving his lips broken and raw. "Why isn’t she coming back? Why didn’t it work?"

He looked around in desperation, searching for any sign that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end. But there was nothing. No sign of hope. No answer. Just the quiet, unyielding emptiness that stretched on forever.

Viktor lingered in the space where he and Jayce had just stood. The weight of everything, the tangled web of lies, choices, and consequences, still clung to him like an iron chain. But in the corner of his eye, a quiet movement caught his attention.

Stood by the glass casing, the Y/N of this timeline stood motionless, her gaze directed downward as if contemplating something deeply personal. The world around her was frozen, just as she was—trapped in a moment of time. She had once been the Y/N who had cared for Jayce while he was stuck in the pit, the Y/N who had stood by him. But this Y/N, this version of her, had never spoken, her voice long forgotten by Viktor.

She looked up at Viktor now, her expression unreadable but heavy with something... disapproval. Her eyes, sharp and searching, flicked over to the place where Jayce had just stood.

Viktor sighed deeply, feeling the weight of her gaze. He knew what she was thinking. He had lied. To Jayce. To her. But he could never bring himself to tell the full truth, not yet.

“You know, don’t you?” Viktor spoke quietly, breaking the silence. "You know I lied to him. But it was the only way."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze hardening, but she didn’t speak. The silence between them was thick with the unsaid, her disapproval radiating off of her.

“I had to lie," Viktor continued, his voice tinged with regret. "If I had told Jayce the truth, if I had told him what was really happening... your counterpart, she would have been stuck in the same timeless loop you’re in. She would have become just like you. Trapped. Frozen. Forever.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked downward, her lips pressed together as she absorbed Viktor’s words. She didn’t need to say anything. He could already feel her thoughts, her understanding, but also her silent protest. She was angry, and rightfully so. She had been created for a purpose, shaped by Viktor’s magic, and yet here she was—still trapped in this form, unable to speak, only existing as a shadow of what she could have been.

Viktor watched her for a moment longer, his gaze conflicted. "I- I brought you back so that you could see him one last time. But by the time I figured out how, I forgot your voice. I forgot you. It was easier that way, instead of trying to remember. And now, you... you’re the one left to pay for it.”

Y/N gave him another disapproving look, but this time, it wasn’t anger—it was a quiet understanding. She knew the truth, even if it wasn’t voiced.

Viktor clenched his fists, the guilt weighing heavily on his chest. “I never wanted any of this. But I couldn’t let him destroy her, not like you were destroyed.”

His voice softened, a quiet sadness creeping in. “I did this for both of you, even if it means lying. It was the only way to keep you safe, even if it meant betraying your trust.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but her eyes softened for just a moment, as though she understood the gravity of Viktor’s choice. It was a cruel truth, one Viktor had been running from for so long—he had caused this pain, and now he could only watch as it continued to unfold.

For a brief, quiet moment, Y/N stood still, her gaze lingering on the frozen image of herself in the glass casing. Then, with a deliberate, almost ethereal calm, she walked over to Viktor, her steps light, her presence a quiet comfort amidst the turmoil.

She reached out and rested a small hand on his arm, her touch soft but firm, as though to reassure him that, in this vast, unfathomable world, she still saw him—still understood. Her sad, knowing look spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of everything that had transpired.

With a small, gentle sigh, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I forgive you."

The words hung in the air, simple yet profound, as Viktor’s heart clenched. He had caused so much suffering, so much devastation, and yet here she was—offering him forgiveness when all he had done was break her.

But Y/N didn’t linger for long. She turned away, her gaze falling on the corrupted body of Jayce. Without hesitation, she sat down beside him, leaning her head against his lifeless form, as if to say that this was where she belonged now—beside him, for all eternity. The cycle of pain was broken, and this was the only way for her to find peace.

There was no way to kill her—no way to free her completely from the twisted fate she had been given. But in this moment, Y/N had chosen her place. She would remain with Jayce, in this timeless, unchanging space, where nothing could alter the truth of their bond.

And, in that act, Viktor ensured that the other version of Y/N would never have to suffer the same fate as this one. His decision to deceive Jayce, to lead him into believing that killing his Viktor would free her, had been the catalyst for breaking the endless cycle. By lying, Viktor had given the Y/N he cared for the chance at freedom—an escape from a fate that would have seen her trapped in a timeless loop of suffering.

Jayce's choice to end the life of the woman who had once been his Y/N had been the painful key to that freedom. But it had never been about saving this Y/N. It was Viktor’s plan all along—his idea to lie and manipulate, to ensure that Jayce’s Y/N would be spared from the cruel destiny that had awaited her. And in that moment, Y/N’s sacrifice meant more than anyone could have expected.

In the end, they were all left with the weight of their choices, a burden they would carry for eternity. Yet, in this small, fragile moment, his Y/N could rest, knowing that her death had not been in vain. It had been a necessary part of the puzzle—a choice that ensured her true self would never have to suffer the same fate. She had given her final gift, and in doing so, freed herself, as well as Jayce, from the endless torment that had plagued them all.

[lollytea]

Luz and Amity are into fantasy, Gus and Hunter love sci-fi. I feel very strongly about Willow also having a human realm pop culture nerd obsession and I like to think that it's superheros

[turtleblogatlast]

Unironically think that each of the bros (+April) don’t actually get how impressive their feats really are so they just do what they do and on the off chance someone comments on those feats they all react like: