#something something some people are just born with tragedy in their blood

[thornofthevale]

the fate of jake mckenzie hurts me so much. so so much. the guy lost everything twice over. his best friend, his honor, his reputation to the world, and then was slowly coaxed into hoping and believing in the future, managed to rescue his friend against all odds and fall in love and get married - only to have mike and the love of his life ripped away from him again only a day after the damn wedding. jake's is the only good future from the glimmers that is fully impossible in the vanuu ending because mike is dead and so are the rest of the arachnids so there's no one left alive to back up jake's story about lundgren or provide any other proof. the only way for him to not lose everything is for nearly the entire fuckin world to die and the fabric of time to be an utter disaster. he ends up a dishonorably discharged wanted fugitive with no one in any other ending.

[mistleaneous-chaos]

How Shadow Of The Erdtree Portrays Hate, and The Tragedy of trying to Escape

Elden Ring Spoilers(Hey! Been a while since i did this)

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I’ve gotten further into the DLC and this might just be one of the best stories of how Hatred is just a cycle that repeats which consumes innocent people in its wake.

This DLC has done so much to make us understand why Marika did the things she did. She lived in a peaceful village, only for people she loved and cared about to be taken and put into jars. And why is that? Because their bodies meld well with others, something she can’t control since she was just born with it.

And so she becomes the new God of the Lands Between, imposing her new order onto others, and having her own son be the one to lead it. But when the fire fades and the ash settles, the one who suffers of the two of them is Messmer. She leaves him in the Shadow Realm because he doesn’t fit in her new order, representing so much of what is considered “Sinful”. And he is left alone, because of something he can’t control since he was born with it.

And then, as years pass and she makes a family again, she has twins! She can finally begin to rebuild, to move on from the hatred she felt!… except, she can’t. Because of the fact that her children have horns, just as her oppressors did. And so do multiple families in the Lands Between, with this seemingly “cursed” blood spreading, she has a choice to make.

Let go of the hate, try to accept her sons and the Omens.

Or hold onto it, persecute them, cut off their horns, and drop them into the sewers, out of sight out of mind.

We know what she picked.

And it’s this hatred that sparka another ambition just like hers. Mohg.

Imagine you’re Mohg. You have no family save for your brother. You live in the sewers while only ever being able to watch the outside world with happy familes and children with parents who love them. But all the while, what do you have? Nothing. All because of something you can’t control because you were born with it.

And so you decide to build your own order. Away from it all. Your brother wants no part, he clings to the hope of being accepted by that damn tree. But it’s fine.

You take some of the other Omens with you, and get to work. You even have help from an Outer God, so higher powers must want you to succeed! Others shave their horns but not you, no you proudly grow them out, even if it impedes your vision, because they are a part of you.

You take in all kinds, Humans, Omens, even Albinaurics, who had no home before. You give your fellow Omens real clothes, regal clothes. They’ve never had clothes after all, so don’t they deserve the best? You build and you build and eventually you have a beautiful part of the Underground to yourselves, you did it, you’ve won!

Mohg could have broken from the cycle, stayed in Mohgwyn, as he did even when chaos reigned above. People were strong under him, and had a home even if they were shunned in other places.

But that choice was taken from him.

Miquella used him to accomplish his own goal of godhood, robbing him of his own agency. Just like his brothers, Mohg was used by his family, but unlike the others, he wasn’t even aware of it. No matter how far he ran, no matter how much he tried to cut himself off from it. The hatred of his mother reached him, in the form of someone else using him to break away from the consequences of it.

Now I’m not saying Mohg was perfect. His group was no less sadistic than some of the others in the lands between.

But he was robbed of a dream, and told it was never his to have.

[bixbythemartian]

I was going through my folders looking for something and I ended up finding this poem? It's from 2021 and I labeled it 'this is a very stupid poem' for some reason but when I read I was like... hold on...

I don't write a huge amount of poetry, and I'm thinking maybe I should do it more often. Anyway, this is about fatphobia, bad self image, and mentions some bloody/gory imagery, as well as inferences towards self harm (past tense), so mind your step

(also if you enjoy this and wanna help me out, throw me a tip, if you've got something to spare)

The Ugly Duckling Never Sat Right With Me

when I was 12 I wanted to pop a pimple that ran so deep and large that all the fat in my body erupted out of it like a disgusting volcano

I wanted to unzip my skin and step out of it bloody naked as a newborn and finally beautiful

I was always told that if I would just lose weight I would be healthier I would be happier I would be real I could be oh so pretty if I just tried

I was never trying hard enough didn't I want to be better? didn't I want to be healthy? to be happy? to be real?

nothing I tried was ever enough

I never liked the story about the ugly duckling because it seemed to say that if he had really been an ugly duckling that his treatment would have been fine that it was reasonable to torment an ugly duck whose only sin was to be born ugly that the real tragedy of the story is that he is a swan not that he is treated badly for being ugly

my mother tried to tell me that it was a metaphor that you're supposed to try to find where you fit in but I think that's worse actually

age 12 in the bathroom staring at my forehead squeezing and squeezing and squeezing and crying and hoping that my better true self will emerge from my body the 'real me' everyone talked about that I will leave the ugly shell behind and become someone new someone people could love

bloody butterfly in a cocoon of fat waiting waiting waiting to emerge (waiting for what?) (I never knew)

if I could dig deep enough past the blood and pain if I sweated and ached and ran and was hungry enough if I'm good if I'm good if I'm good if I'm good enough then I will be real

but I never I never was good enough and never will be and this? this is all I am

what happens when you grow up? when you are told you are a swan? or rather, that you can be one if you try hard enough but you cannot there is no trying that is hard enough and all along all you ever were was an ugly duck

[franzkafkagf]

Targaryens love to glorify the fire, the conquest, the dragons—constantly obsessed with being the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror. But what if Aenys didn’t come from Aegon at all? What if the entire dynasty they’ve been killing each other over was founded on the union of a queen and a simple bard who just loved to hear her sing while he played his lute?

What if Aenys wasn't the trueborn son of Aegon, but instead the product of something completely unexpected—genuine, human love? Think about it. While Maegor embodies everything about Valyrian supremacy, bloodlines, strength through fire and blood (and let's be honest, probably born from blood magic because Aegon was infertile and Visenya wasn’t about to let the dream die), Aenys was... different. Aenys was soft, “weak”. But he was so profoundly human—he loved stories, the stars, music. If Maegor was a blade forged in black fire, Aenys was a quiet song lingering in the air.

And isn’t it fitting? The Targaryens repeat the same mistakes over and over again because they are obsessed with the idea that they’re descended from Aegon the Conqueror, when they are really all descendants of a queen and a lowly bard. That’s the irony—this family that prides itself on Valyrian superiority and divine right is actually the product of something far more humble and human. Their “destiny” wasn’t fire. It was songs. Stories and songs are the lifeblood of Westeros. People remember through stories. The histories, the legends—these aren’t forged in blood, they’re passed down through mummer’s plays, puppet shows, songs sung at taverns. What are we told over and over in ASOIAF? That songs are how history survives.

Aenys was born of love and song. And that matters because look at how their dynasty ends. Egg grew up loving stories of knights and heroes. He wanted to be one of those heroes from the tales. He wasn’t drawn to power or conquest, he was drawn to the stories of honor, of justice, of doing what’s right. He thought that the return of dragons would be the salvation of the realm, that it would fix everything, and what did it lead to? Summerhall. A tragedy.

Look at Rhaegar. He wasn’t some warmongering conqueror—Rhaegar loved his harp, not his sword. He could make people weep just by playing a few notes, by singing a song. His magic was in music, in creating something beautiful in a world constantly obsessed with destruction. But what did Rhaegar do? He gave it all up to chase a prophecy. He abandoned his harp and took up the sword, convinced that the answers lay in some ancient, cryptic vision of three-headed dragons. He died in the mud of the Trident, not as a poet or singer, but as a fool chasing a doomed prophecy.

They thought their destiny was fire, but it’s always been about the songs—the things that outlive the fire. That’s what Aenys represented, what Rhaegar embodied, what Egg loved as a child.

But the Targaryens were too busy chasing dragons to hear the music.

[greatdenimbeast]

Diamond castle au- Mephiles as Lydia! The muse of Music, Tragedy and Eloquence

He’s a god, born on Olympus, chosen to be Apollos first muse, due to his prolific musical talents and understanding of tragic stories. Mephiles graciously accepted his position as well as his twin flutes

To him, to be a muse is to be the example, the authority, to have the final say over what people can and can’t do with their art, down to the style and expression.

Mortals were simple creatures, with fickle emotions that easily led them astray. They needed guidance, direction, the ability to create was gifted onto them and they needed to use that gift properly. (More accurately how he deemed it being used properly)

He was content in his care for the diamond castle and the way he ran things… but then Apollo chose another muse. A demigod. A descendant of an underworld god, gifted with full godhood in order to carry out his duties.

Mephiles wasn’t… fond of this decision, working with a mortal isn’t something he had ever foreseen and he didn’t think that this mortal would be capable of taking on these responsibilities. But he chose not to argue with the authority of lord Apollo and welcome the godling into his ranks as a fellow muse. He could be taught the proper ways after-all and, even when he was a mortal, the blood of a god still ran through his viens, this was about a century before Apollo introduces them to another chosen muse.

This one a pure mortal, not even a lick of godly blood in him and yet he was chosen.

Mephiles was completely baffled and infuriated by this decision but held his tongue, something that was hard to do when this… former-mortal was the most ungrateful one he’d ever seen, having as much snark as he had audacity as he clearly did not wish for this decision either

Everything Mephiles told him to do, he did the exact opposite! And if that wasn’t enough! He slacked in his duties! The mortals engaging in his art just did whatever they wanted and interpreted his aspects however they wanted and he just let them! In fact he actively encouraged it! Going down to the mortal realm, in mortal disguise to interact with them. And then, for some ungodly reason, the second muse (who had previously been butting heads with this new muse as well) followed his example!!! It was infuriating, especially when the two started to creating music, and doing whatever the heck they wanted with it! Starting to insist that he could lighten up cuz he didn’t actually have the authority on what people created

The final straw was when the two of them created music that in turn created a little godling (literally, they made a song an poof! Baby!) and the god Apollo proposed that the child train to be a muse

Mephilis wouldn’t stand for this anymore, they didn’t deserve to hold their positions so if they didn’t do things his then he’d take care of all the arts himself! But he knew he couldn’t exactly do anything, his fellow muses, though tainted by their former mortality, were just as powerful as he was. So he ventured down to Tartarus for something give an edge, he found the dark power he was looking for, as well as the dragon, iblis.

So he conspired to take over while tensions rose with the other two muses, what he needed was the instruments to have full control but for people to believe his authority he had to let those two ruin their own image to make him look better by comparison and ruining their harmony to make them more susceptible to his powers

But then Silver found out, told the other muses about him wanting to take over and they hid the castle and their instruments. The two muses tried to confront him and stop him but he quickly put a stop to that, they won’t be doing anything without his say so anytime soon… but the little apprentice got away, seemingly disappearing into thin air. Meph had a hunch that he knew the whereabouts but there was no sign of

His powers still only extended over his domain, so he still needed those instruments… but no matter, he was in charge and he was immortal, he had millennia to wait and there were only so many places that child could hide

[tornado1992]

The world does not deserve some things.

It doesn’t deserve destruction, hate or cruelty.

Sonic has known this for quite a while, being some sort of fighter for nature or a so called “protector” of it by a lot of people, he’s not so sure about that though.

Just as the world can be beautiful it can become dreadful, the world gives origin to everything in it, and that everything is part of the world itself.

The people that live in it are the part that shows the contrast the most clearly, just as some inhabitants are kind, take care of each other and enjoy the wonders it has to offer, there was a few of them that seemed to spite everything that wasn’t like them, everything they didn’t like, and everything that wasn’t theirs. Sonic knows that, he’s been fighting that enough time to be named a protector.

All things considered, to him the world still meant kindness, endless opportunities, adventure… and it meant freedom.

Then it meant something else.

Between all his fighting and running, he met and befriended a lot of the ones that called him a hero before he could even process the title, some of them energetic, some hotheaded, and some unbothered, they reminded him that even if there was despair or tragedy, the world he knew and loved was still there.

At least it was there to him.

Getting to know all the world meant getting almost as much deception and anger as happiness, every new place meant new sceneries, new ways, and new people, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if it meant taking all the damage himself, getting to know everything personally was better than blindly trusting anything he was told, he knew it was worth it; he confirmed it when he went through one of the worst parts to find the absolute best one.

The place wasn’t even bad looking, the nature growing harmoniously beside the artificial work, it gave a peaceful kind of vibe, the people seemed kind and respectful, kids playing and chasing each other while adults looked out for them from afar, even welcoming him with open arms not caring if he was a stranger, “a united and caring community”, no sight of conflict or cruelty came to view, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them. Only kind words and even warm chilli dogs greeted him. He thought this was the kind of place he would fight for.

That thought lasted less than an hour.

It really doesn’t take much longer than 10 minutes to completely change your perspective of a so called perfect community when after thirty minutes of an apparent peaceful environment you notice the sick looking child they suddenly chase down the woods so he doesn’t “steal their food and gives them bad fortune”. Sonic gives them a full minute of doubt, doubt to himself as what he’s hearing and seeing, because that can’t be right, because it must be a mistake. What reason could there be for a kid to “give bad luck”? Why would a kid need to “steal” food? And why would he be called a “curse”?

Some villager takes a long four minutes to explain the reason for all that, falling down to “that mutant was born with two tails”.

Sonic spends the next five minutes looking for the kid, and restraining himself from committing several crimes.

He had to focus, ending a full village’s whole career can wait, what cannot wait is the fox kit that just ran away from a group of kids leaving a trail of blood behind him. Even in the thick forest tundra it’s easy to see the big droplets of blood on the tree branches, the ground, and the tiny bush that kept trembling.

That’s where he found him.

A fox kit, didn’t looked any older than two, but by what he heard he could even be four. He looked way too tiny to be around four.

Big baby blue eyes greet him, a glassy sight, sorrow, confusion and sadness behind them.

The moment the fox noticed the speedster he tried to run, but the bush was too thick around him, and his back was facing a big tree log, he was trapped, the kid flinched every time he moved towards him, whined whenever Sonic rose to stand, and even started silently tearing up while curling around his tiny bruised body when he tried to reach for him. This kid thought Sonic wanted to hurt him.

How much does a kid has to suffer for his first reaction to some one approaching him being to cry, tremble and try to protect themselves?

Sonic can’t decide what enrages him more, the matted brown fur that surely must mean a long time without proper care for it, the bruised skinny body that trembled every few seconds as if it couldn’t stand by itself, the obviously recent bleeding nose that made the fox kit whimper every time he breathed, or the so clear loud sound of an empty stomach.

This was the result of long period of abuse and neglect, and by the way the kid hugged his twin tails while crying, Sonic would even call it torture.

Sonic couldn’t help him without getting close to him, but the kit wouldn’t let him near him without flinching. Putting the kid through more distress was not an option, but leaving him alone wasn’t one either, and the kid needed help, so he stayed. Sitting beside the trembling bush, taking watch in case some of those hollow hearted villagers came back while thinking of a way of helping the kid.

This is not the kind of help Sonic is used to offer, but he cannot just leave the kit alone. Even if he didn’t know anything about taking care of younger kids, even if his first aid kit was almost empty in his plane far away from him, even if the fox cried at the very sight of him, Sonic won’t leave him alone.

He doesn’t remember feeling like this before. Frustrating, he remembers some adults calling it, a feeling of helplessness, anger, and even sadness that consumes one self through the impossibility of effective action, in his case, the impossibility of helping.

And so he found himself, frustrated, sitting on the forest ground while rubbing his eyes with his hand, who knew, frustration is stressful; he kept at that for a few long minutes, until he felt a slight touch in his back. Finding those big blue eyes when he turned his head, a tiny gloveless paw patting him gently, careful with his quills but yet touching them, trying to comfort him.

This kid could barely stand, was obviously scared, at the verge of tears, and hurting from the beating the other kids gave him; and he was trying to make Sonic feel better.

It was clear now, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them because they put all the cruelty and hatred in a kid, an innocent, tiny, and so kind hearted kid. The same village that greeted Sonic with kind words and offered him warm food was willing to let a literal toddler starve, if he wasn’t killed by the village’s youngest inhabitants first. All over something that wasn’t even bad, it wasn’t even his fault.

That won’t do.

Looking less distressed than before but still trembling wasn’t an ideal state to approach the twin tailed kit, but again, the kid needed help, the most urgent now being probably first aid, but Sonic sadly knew that the thing that would calm down the kid more would be something to eat.

Sonic offered him a smile, an attempt to soothe him, standing as slowly as he could not to scare the kid, and running as fast as his legs allowed him to return with four chili dogs was the game plan, managing to startle the kid a little bit with his rushed return, with the most difficult part of the plan being convincing the kid that the food was for him, that he could eat, that it wouldn’t hurt him, that Sonic wouldn’t hurt him.

Words might be useful to communicate that, but they just might, this kid was obviously casted away from society, who knew since when, he might not even understand him, well, if he used words that is, for now he hopes his smile would do (that and him eating a chili dog himself so the kit would know it’s safe).

It took a while, but it seemed like the fox’s empty stomach finally convinced him to eat, his hands trembling as he grabbed the supper, eyes getting a different kind of teary as he took his first bite, his twin tails wagging as he devoured his second chili dog.

Sonic wasn’t much of a baby person, sure they were cute and all he didn’t saw the big deal, all babies were the same. But seeing this little kid, a hurt toddler, starting to smile and wet his eyes over something as simple as warm food.. while a part of him was burning with rage, another part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see this kid truly smile.

He wonders how could anyone see this kid with anything but love.

So he stayed around him, always with a smile, but even bandages, chili dogs, and big smiles couldn’t help much with the kids perspective of the word, much less the perception of himself.

The only world the fox knew before Sonic was a merciless one, rejection, hate and cruelty being its main traits, with bad people who would hunt him down, hit him and hurt him because he was the bad one, just for existing in the same time and place as all of them, but not being the same as them. He believed he really was the bad one for some time.

Sonic wouldn’t allow that for any longer, so he took the best part of the world with him and never planned to return it.

His life wasn’t the ideal deal for a toddler, he couldn’t give him a traditional family structure, a roof over his head, or a warm bed, but he also didn’t trusted anyone else to take care of him, he didn’t trusted the world to take care of him. So he would take the job himself, this kid wouldn’t go a day without warm food, he would never lack shelter, and as long as Sonic was around, he would always protect him.

But Sonic still was a hero.

Sonic fought and ran, ran and fought, and when the running and fighting from him alone seemed like not enough, the kit didn’t even doubted risking his own life to help him.

After a life of suffering, as little and scared as he was, at barely four years old, he still wanted to protect the world that wronged him.

The world doesn’t deserve this kid.

But it was the world itself that gave Sonic the title of protector, guardian, and hero; he knows there are things worth fighting for, far more than the things that wouldn’t deserve any kind of protection.

He won’t deny the title, ever.

Because even if some day everything around him comes down, everyone gets mad and bad, and his own hope is questioned, he’ll still have a reason to fight.

After all, this kid is his world.

[whileyoureinschoolidothisallday]

Fixing MHA's Ending So It Follows Through With Its Core Themes (And It Basically Fixes Itself)

I don't like retconning at the best of times, but turning what started as essentially a Hope focused narrative into a "realistic" tragedy at the very last second is some wild work.

So I'm gonna do what I do best as a fic writer and fix it!!!!!

The Summary

So, I'm pretty sure all of us were on mostly the same page up until the very last panels of the Shigaraki fight (Having AFO being just "born evil" was probably the start of things not being great, but I'm willing to let that slide because it doesn't really effect the overall function of the story that much). Once that and the epilogue started is where I mostly saw people being like ????????? to a lot of choices, so I'm going to focus on those two sections only.

We're gonna be rewriting:

-The deaths of the Villains + Kurogiri (obvs)

-The overall post-War actions and reactions

-The continued existence of the Commission and the Hero Rankings

-Hawk's fate

-Spinner's fate

-A liiiiitle tweak to Chisaki's fate

-Slight tweaks to the Todorokis

-and finally What to DO with the Villains + Kurogiri now that they're alive

And we'll be starting with...

Toga

Now for a battle that was so beautiful, this really did end up completely falling apart.

I'm not gonna justify every single Villain Rescue I do, but Toga's really comes down to one simple reason for me:

Her bullies literally wanted her to die as atonement.

You don't...typically make your character's fate agree with their bullies or abusers (otherwise???? why are you explicitly portraying them as bullies and abusers to the audience if you want us to ultimately agree with them?????)

Throughout most of the story prior to this, Hori made it a staple in the show that dying for the cause, hurting yourself for the cause, martyring yourself or otherwise telling someone to kill themselves for the cause is a vile thing to do. So, it makes ZERO sense why he would suddenly retcon this at such a critical moment, especially since he already set the stage for it to be wrong in the first place.

(also does anyone also think it was weird/creepy that Hori LITERALLY has her do this with Twice and she very explicitly says "Don't be stupid I don't have to give all of my blood away"? No? Just me?)

Everything happens the same, she still thinks she's sacrificing herself, "If only, if only", blah blah blah

AND THEN...

Hawks

This is such low-hanging fruit plot-wise it actually feels offensive that it went nowhere

Nothing happens with Hawks. We all say it, fans and non-fans alike. He is wasted potential incarnate. His story is a circle and it so easily did not have to be that way because of one simple writing decision:

Hawks and Toga share a blood type.

Up until now, it really did seem like Hawks learned nothing from Jin's death. The first thing he says when he sees the clones is, "We have to kill them now!" But then, picture him still battered and broken from his fight with AFO, wingless, but there is still SOMETHING he can do to save someone's life.

And he puts the needle in his arm instead, and before she can question it, he tells her Jin would want her to live. He's not gonna make the same mistake twice.

(I also think it'd be nice if he said something like how lucky she is, to really go full circle with the Jin story, but I'm not trying dialogue here lol)

And that leads us to...

Shigaraki (and Kurogiri!)

This is a double feature because with the way I'm doing it, I can't save one without the other.

So, something that happens during this and is super anti-climactic and seemingly pointless is Midoriya losing his hands. He gets em back in like 2 seconds, because Eri gives him a surprise rewind almost immediately after. The actual point of it was just to show the brand new rule that physical damage that happens in the vestige world also happens in the real world, so that killing Shigaraki a few chapters later would still make sense.

We're gonna get rid of that rule entirely and just say that Midoriya does not lose his actual arms in the fight, and psychological damage in a ghost world does not reflect physically in reality (or idk. If you DO want that to happen, then just say the embers of the vestiges protected him one last time or something).

And because he doesn't lose his arms, Eri still has a surprise rewind to use.

But before we get to that, we actually have to save Shigaraki. So, here's the super complicated rescue rewrite I came up with. Ready?

Kicking AFO out of his brain and giving him back full control over his body simply does not kill him.

That's it!!!! That's really all that needed to happen!! It was a very conscious choice to make that kill him! It's actually more work and details to kill Shigaraki than it is to save him!! Hori already went out of his way to say that Nana's vestige protected him so that he wasn't completely swallowed by AFO, just so he could say goodbye before fading away anyway. What if, considering the fact that hatred of Nana is what damned him, love FROM Nana actually just plain ol saves him? Full stop? We come full circle. It would make it a fantastic mirror to the Todoroki fight and solidify the theme that love from your/a family, even a broken one, will save you!!

And then further in the background, Bakugou doesn't randomly kill (?????? Even after reading it again I'm still really confused about how Kurogiri dies. I think this is what happens?????) Kurogiri, and instead starts to lose control like they feared. But then, refusing to give up on him, Aizawa hits him with the now-available Rewind Juice and it finally, finally stabilizes his mind for good.

The day is saved.

And that just leaves...

Touya

Unfortunately my stupid husband can't stop trying to kill himself for 2 seconds despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, so there's really nothing I can do about the extent of his injuries

However, there's LOTS I can do about the way we're treating said injuries! =D

First of all, because Touya is my favorite, I do wanna allow myself the space to briefly rant about how his entire situation was handled because brother. first of all. It's so incredibly obvious that he was supposed to die on the battlefield with his comrades. That man had no fuckin eyeballs by the end of that fight, bffr. And then it was like Hori remembered the thing about the noodles and was like 'oh shit I better at least wrap that up lol' so he brought him back--eyeballs and TEARDUCTS magically intact btw so naturally the audience with reading comprehension was like 'oh he's healing somehow I guess'--just to get that specific moment on the books (and maybe just to draw Touya in his Batman Who Laughs era because I mean he does look pretty sick in the tank) and then turned around and killed him again. With no explanation what the random functioning tearducts and magical regrowth of eyeballs was about.

Like...my guy, you ain't gotta do all that. Again, it's so much harder and more complicated to kill him than it is to keep him alive. Not to mention he was killed OFF-SCREEN. WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE ANY--IF ANY--CONVERSATIONS HE HAS WITH SHOUTO OR HIS FAMILY, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF NOT KILLING HIM ON THE BATTLEFIELD. INSTEAD OF THE SEXY SHIRTLESS SERVING-FACE-AT-A-FUNERAL IMAGE OF TOUYA WE COULD'VE SEEN A FLASHBACK OF THEM TALKING AND HIM SMILING AND BEING HAPPY WITH THEM FOR WHATEVER TIME THEY HAD AND THAT STILL WOULD'VE BEEN MORE SATISFYING. Y'KNOW. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THE TODOROKI PLOTLINE?????????????VSSSBBNM,.;;PUSAAXXGHIIRWDFGG

But anyway.

Fixing Touya's death is really simple. We can do two things, actually.

Work with the deus-ex Ice Quirk a little bit, make the Phoenix Theory canon. Ice heals him, the tank is a giant fridge. Lo and behold, it would explain why he magically healed eyeballs and tearducts. It's an incredibly slow process, but eventually he'd heal enough to be out of the tank and in a normal hospital setting for the rest of his recovery. It also gives him a goal to pursue for the future, I.E learning how to control the new side of his powers and mayybeeee getting interested in studying Quirk Biology in the process 👀

He simply!!!!!! Doesn't die!!!!!!!!! Out of ALLLLLLL the MHA characters, I would 100% believe you if you told me that Touya Todoroki nevertheless persisted. That's like...his entire character. You don't even need to give me a reason. His entire character up until now has been 'the one that's somehow still alive' to the point that the fucking Dr. Eggman lookin ass mad scientist that brought him back to life in the first place (in WORSE condition) was like 'yeah no idea how he's still here that's scary'. I'm sorry, the entire fucking show I've had to see A. An old man without a face with a back alley ventilator system shoved directly into his stoma that's somehow fine and talking perfectly, and B. Another old man missing his ENTIRE digestive tract for years and is still up and walking around somehow with no G-tube or colostomy bag to be seen, so I think by the power of God and Anime, Touya could probably survive his injuries and it would be within the realm of believability for the show. In fact, it's LESS believable that he stayed alive through all that by spite alone and then when he finally gets offered love and acceptance, that determination and tenacity to stay alive suddenly goes out the window. If anything, it should've made him MORE determined to live.

Sorry I got carried away with that one. But there. Everyone is saved and the core themes are intact.

Now we just have...

The Overall Actions and Reactions Post-War

Gonna sum this up really quickly:

-The cameras never turned off. They're built for Quirk resistance because they're a fucking newscast in a Hero society if their technology broke every time there were heavy Quirk exchanges there would never be any fucking news. Making them conveniently lose footage so none of the civs can see the Villains humanity is just rubbing salt in the wound and serves no narrative purpose in line with pre-established themes. Everyone saw what was recorded, and it helped the Villains' cases for rehabilitation.

-We do not censor out this battle in future history books. Everyone is very familiar with the final fight and the events and circumstances leading up to it. It is not erased from public memory as soon as possible. In fact, it's frequently studied and referenced when making new policies to avoid making the same mistakes. Hori. Wtf.

-We do not reinstate the Hero Rankings in any way shape or form, and Shouto is the biggest voice in dismantling this system. Voila, this is now actually the story of how they all became the greatest Heroes, because they aren't ranked. They're all literally the greatest Heroes, and so will everyone after them.

-This IS actually portrayed in the epilogue, but yes, let's be LESS reliant on Heroes and police and MORE invested in the community!!!!!!! Even more so than what's portrayed!!!!! Take another bit from Spider-Man: Anyone can wear the mask!!!!!! Let's make a world where Heroes have too much time on their hands and not just make more of them, right????????? Remember that????????

-WE DO NOT REINSTATE THE COMMISSION. WE GOT RID OF THEM CORRUPT HOES FOR A REASON!!!!!! NO A CHANGE OF THE GUARD IS NOT ENOUGH TO FIX IT WE'RE NOT 7YRS OLD!!!!! HORI. WTF. The only thing I want them to be in charge of is licensing Heroes. I want these fuckers to be the DMV of the Hero world and that's IT!!!!!!!

Which brings us to...

Hawks' Fate

I don't even fuck with this man like that, but he did not deserve to become CEO of the organization that groomed and abused him since he was a child when all he wanted to do was chase tail and fuck off to a beach somewhere. Considering the fact that he also, like, killed people he shouldn't have, let him retire like Endeavor, please. We're done giving the old guard power and privilege, especially when they explicitly did not and do not want it (and when they did have it, they misused it). The only thing I want this man involved with is Toga's recovery alongside Uraraka. Specifically, I want him paying for it and anything else she might need. Fuck it, you know what, make HIM Endeavor's personal aide instead of Rei!!!! He gets to be a little simp and Endeavor gets a replacement son to fill Natsu's spot. Everyone wins.

(He does deserve that hairline tho. I ain't fixin that.)

So that leaves...

Spinner's Fate

I'm not changing much here, besides the fact that now Shiggy is alive and I think they should be ✨Roommates✨ eventually (and obviously he's gonna be much less riddled with survivor's guilt). I still think he should write that book, but I also think that with his multiple Quirks, he should team up with scientists to understand how Quirks work in the body (and maybe get some of them removed from his).

And next...

Chisaki's Fate

I just think this guy needs to be in the same place as the other Villains, at least for a fraction of the time. Why is he just...out. He was also in that daycare and could definitely use some help before we just let him loose in the streets because he said sorry (Can the League just say sorry then??????????).

I do think afterwards he should get involved with something chemistry related tho, cause those bullets of his came in clutch.

And on that note...

The Todorokis' Fates

And by Todorokis I mean two of them, specifically Rei lol

Yeah, she's not gonna be Endeavor's nurse for the rest of her life lol. That man has more money than God, he can hire an aide like everybody else. In fact, they're not even living together. Do you remember how earlier in the series, he gave them a new house? So they could live away from him and he would be in the old house by himself? I liked that plan. Let's go back to that plan. I'm not gonna go as far as to make them divorce, if they're together they're together, but I think separation is a necessary must at this point because if they MUST stay together, they should at least try dating for once???????? Girl was actually bought like maybe they figure out if they even still like each other at all, or ever did.

(Also, I have to laugh as a motorized wheelchair user that Hori drew her pushing Endeavor all happy and blissfully. Motorized wheelchairs are not meant to be pushed like that lol. They have push features for emergencies and small around-the-house distances of course, but uh, mine's 350 pounds without me in it. It's not usually anyone's first choice.)

But there is one more Todoroki I have a lot to talk about, so that finally brings us to...

What Do We Do With The Villains + Kurogiri Now That They're Alive???????????

We take everything from comic books except what would actually makes sense with the story lol

Surprise!!!!!! We're doing Arkham!!!!!! This is another low-hanging fruit thing that I'm almost a little offended that it wasn't implemented. Obviously Arkham has its problems in the Batman canon that we're gonna try to avoid, but I honestly think Batman villains and the core MHA Villains are pretty similar in their execution in that they are primarily mentally ill victims of society who have done very terrible things, but the audience (and Batman himself) is actively rooting for them to get better over just rotting in jail or being killed. Two-Faced has killed sooooo many people and has relapsed a ton, but I ultimately still want to see him get better because he was Batman's best friend once and a good man, and what happened to him was a tragedy. I think all the Villains deserve a space where they can humanely heal from their issues and gain support, while also being safely separated from society while they're still dangerous to themselves and others.

Oh, but Batman and his endless money bought Arkham. Who do we know who has access to trust fund money, an investment in the mentally ill, and the bonus of a medical background that could fund such a thing?

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for...

Natsuo Todoroki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mans graduates from college and immediately uses his money as a doctor and his inheritance to open up Rindou Sanctuary, in honor of his mother Rei and named after her favorite flower (I don't think he'd want to give Enji the satisfaction of his last name attached to his greatest achievement). He's head doctor on site and the board, and visits Touya every shift once he's healed enough to be transferred to the facility. He is very invested in his brother's treatment and refuses to lose him again--at least not until they're proper old men.

It is publicly funded by donors and taxes alike, and Enji, naturally, is always the highest donor. Call it reparations.

And there you have it! That's how to fix the epilogue. It took longer to type than think about. I could care less about canon shipping, so y'all can keep that (or not). I'm just here to fix the structural problems that have no reason to be here at this point. As I said, once I redrew lines Hori already set up and just abandoned, it pretty much fixed itself.

Hope you enjoyed it and I hope it eases the grief a little!!!!! They're alive look I fixed it!!!!!! <3

(also feel free to use anything I said in here in your own fix-it fics!!!! Just tag me so I can read them 👀)

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

Can you do kaeya for death seeking creator please?

Oh I absolutely can! I apologize if how I characterize him is inaccurate. But I hope you enjoy it either way!!

Typical death warnings here, plus some possible psychological horror from Kaeya's perspective? Idk

News of imposters had been sprouting up frequently within the confines of the bar, it seems that's what most talk about lately. Kaeya never paid much mind to it as he felt the topic of such gruesome punishments that befell them were inappropriate to drink to. Though with a more hazy mind he would call himself a hypocrite, as he also would be in agreement for those who defiled the Primordial Mother's image to receive such punishments.

But as of now he had a clear mind, obversing everything he can as he looked down at the dirty individual before him. They're eyes were wide in fear, hands clutching onto the grass below as if ready to run any second. It was clear they were terrified, thinking their life was about to end. And while he would happily will it, he has a more...humane method in ridding the world of such heretics.

"My, you look a bit worn-out. Do you need any help?" He asked, pitching his voice to give off the false concern he wished to show. He reaches out his hand in help, his smile just barely there. He can see them hesitate, very much in disbelief at his 'kindness'. He couldn't blame them, no one would be kind to someone as disgusting as them. "Let's find some shelter you can use. I have some preserved slabs of meat to cook up, as I'm sure you're hungry."

A growl from their stomach answers him, causing him to laugh from the sheer predictability of these people. He gently guides them towards a safer area, ignoring the shine in their eyes as they followed. He sets up a tent and a cooking fire easily, refusing to let them help him.

As the meal cooks he asks the imposter before him what their situation was, only half listening as they prattled on about them not being at fault and they were just born that way. Something he has heard before from the recountings of others who have come across such vial people as this one. He responds with feigned sympathy, telling them how sorry he was for the tragedies they faced.

Once the food was finished he gave them a large helping, saying they needed all the food they could get if they wished to find another safe place somewhere else. He was able to hold in his expression when the dirty individual gave their thanks, looking at him as if he was some savior. In some way he was, he would delude to himself sometimes, for he would give then this false hope before they were to close their eyes for the final time.

As the sun was setting over the horizon, Kaeya grinned as the imposter yawned loudly. Their eyes drooped as a hazy look settled over, before falling over to snooze against the dirt below. The sleep potion had worked wonders, as he knew it would. Carefully picking them up, he gently placed them a few meters away from the campsite, as to not get blood on his equipment.

Taking his sword in hand, he presses it against their throat, watching them shiver in their sleep as the cool metal touched their skin. He studies their face, fascinated in how it was a one to one recreation of the god who not only gave him and everyone life, but that also guided him guided throughout his years.

"Apologies my friend." He says in a whisper, with only the wind to hear. "At least you got to go in peace."

And with a quick and precise movement, he turns away as to not watch their disgusting blood seep into the grass. He walked back over to his camp, not bothering to bury the dead creature. As he looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky, he couldn't help but wonder if the Primordial Mother above was watching.

-

News of the Primordial Mother's return spread faster than any other imposter rumor had ever done. It was all anyone could talk about these days, no matter the conversation their god was always brought up. The church was bustling as many patrons were quick to pray and give offerings for when the creator would appear in Mondstadt.

Even Kaeya himself was cheerier as he watched the people around him buzz in excitement. Though it seemed to be growing a bit too much for him, as he decides to patrol outside the city for the sake of some quietness.

As he strolled towards Windrise he could feel the strong breeze, as if even Barbatos himself was celebrating. Arriving at the tree that symbolizes the old hero of Mondstadt, he looks around to take in the sights. A bit further away he could see a small patch of flowers that bloomed brighter than any other he's seen, he recalls that area was familiar but decided to held no importance.

His thoughts are quick to stop as he hears the snap of a twig, alerting him to something nearby. He quickly materializes his sword and points it in the direction of where he heard the sound, surprised to find a dirty and unkempt individual. Their hair was overgrown and matted, covering their face fully from his view. Their clothes were ripped, barely covering their form and making their golden scars apparent.

His eyes narrowed as he takes in their form, dissecting them with his gaze. He doesn't feel anything threatening from them, but a knight must always be cautious. Keeping his sword at his side, he addresses them. "My, you look a bit worn-out. Need any help?"

The person doesn't respond, they only stood there. They swayed side to side a bit, causing him to worry to them being injured. He takes a step forward, still cautious as to what movement they could use. "Are you alright?"

They still don't respond, a sense of dread enters Kaeya as he slowly moves forward. Just as he reaches out to brush their hair out of their face, they jump forward. Surprised he quickly swings his sword, causing them to scream as they fall to the ground in pain. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his instincts telling him something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

He attempts to calm himself down, not fully believing what just happened. But the person lunges at him again, making him swing his weapon once more to slice against them. They scream in agony, drops of shining gold landing onto the grass below.

This wasn't right, nothing in this situation was right. This person, this...thing, it couldn't be bleeding the blood of the Primordial Mother. They were supposed to be graceful, elegant, clean, purity itself. Yet the figure in front of them was screaming like a beast wishing for death, it was horrifying.

"Just do it?" He hears them mumble, confusing him even more.

"Wha-"

"Just do it! Kill me again like you've done before!" They raged, their fierce gaze keeping him frozen in place. "I know your methods! The one time I thought someone was on my side, you killed me in my sleep!"

He killed them? He killed the Primordial Mother before? Nothing they said made sense. He would never have killed them. Never!

That imposter he ended ages ago, that wasn't them! There's no way! No one should have the ability to kill a god! Less of all the one who created everything!

This can't be!

It just can't be!

They lunge once more, every thought in his body screamed at him to move. If they get him they'll hurt him! So with the scream of confusion, rage, sorrow, any emotion he couldn't decipher, he swings his blade down for the final time that day.

As he watches them writhe in pain, he realizes he wasn't breathing. He grips at his chest, feeling his heart try to burst out. He drops to the ground on his knees, watching as their body withers into ash and flies off into the wind.

What had he done?

[kikyoupdates]

For Tomorrow's Sake ⭑˚💫⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

various!jjk x f!reader

reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn

You never believed reincarnation was possible, least of all in the fictional world of Jujutsu Kaisen. However, from the moment you meet Gojo Satoru, it’s impossible to deny. Whether it’s a miracle or some kind of curse, you find yourself growing up alongside the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Unfortunately, you know what the future holds in store. You know exactly what kind of tragedies await. Perhaps that’s why you were brought into this world. If it means saving people from a gruesome fate, you’ll gladly suffer in their place. You’ll do whatever it takes. All for the sake of a better tomorrow.

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You’re surrounded by darkness. 

It feels like you’re trapped in some kind of void. You don’t understand what’s happening, but this vast expanse of nothingness stretches out farther than the eye can see. It feels like you can’t breathe. It feels like you’re being smothered, choked, trapped—and you’re desperate to break free. 

Ironically, the moment you have that thought, your prayers are answered. 

Suddenly, it’s not dark anymore. It takes a few moments for you to adjust to your surroundings, but there’s light, and images come into view. They’re nothing more than blurry shapes at first, but slowly, you’re able to make sense of them.

The silence is gone, too. It’s been replaced by the sound of something harsh, the likes of which grates at your ears and is impossibly loud. 

It’s the sound of a baby wailing. 

A group of people are staring down at you. Adults, all of them, and their expressions are unmistakably stern. You can’t seem to figure out what’s going on. The baby’s cries overwhelm your senses, and you desperately wish they would stop, but regretfully, they continue. 

One of the people scowls. 

“The child is born weak. Her cursed energy is scarce.” 

Strange. For some reason, they’re looking down at you as they utter those words. They clearly just said, the child. 

…are you that child? 

The wailing makes sense now. You’re a baby. A helpless little infant. All you can do is cry. You’re incapable of expressing yourself any other way—despite your best efforts to do so—and thus, your wails continue to fill the room, on a seemingly endless loop. 

“What a disappointment,” another person sighs. 

“She will serve no purpose. We may as well pass her onto a non-sorcerer family. It saves us the trouble of having to—” 

“No.”

Yet another person speaks up. It’s a woman, and although you can’t quite explain how you know, just by looking at her, it becomes clear. 

She is your mother. 

“My daughter will be raised here,” she insists, a glare crossing her brow. “I was forced into this life. Why should she have the kind of freedom that I was so unfairly denied? I don’t care if she’s weak. Put her to work. She can help out with menial errands, as a servant. It doesn’t matter. Do not let her leave.” 

Despite the fact that she is your biological mother, and you are her flesh and blood, her gaze is filled with nothing but hatred. She resents you, it seems, and while an ordinary baby wouldn’t be able to understand her words, for some reason, you do. 

All of these terms confuse you. Cursed energy, sorcerers… they make your brain itch. They evoke a strange sense of déjà vu, but you fail to comprehend why. Which only makes it that much more frustrating. 

Honestly, this scares you. It’s a scary feeling, to be so utterly helpless, but viscerally aware of what’s happening around you. You have the urge to run away from here, as fast as you possibly can, but your body is physically incapable of doing so.

Even though you escaped the darkness, you’re still trapped. 

Some time passes. 

You’re older now. You recently turned five years old. If nothing else, you’re thankful for the ability to be able to move normally. Having to live as an infant, while fully aware of everything around you, was absolute torture. It’s true that you didn’t have any responsibilities and you were able to lounge and sleep to your heart’s content, but still… ugh. You’re glad that uncomfortable period of your life is finally over with.

Although five years have passed, nothing particularly remarkable has happened. 

Your mother actively avoids you. She treats you coldly, and as far as you can remember, has never shown you any love. Your father, the head of the household, barely so much as glanced at you after you were born. You’re of no interest to him since you’re so weak. He’s had children with several other women apart from your mother, but your half-siblings have far more potential than you, and so, they ignore and look down on you the same way your parents do. 

The same goes for pretty much everyone else, too. No one ever pays attention to you, or comforts you when you’re sad, or lets you take a break when you’re tired. The second you started walking properly, they told you to help out with chores, and day in and day out, your weak, tiny little legs can hardly keep up. 

You suppose it could be worse. Nobody ever yells at you, or hurts you. Some children have the misfortune of being born into incredibly abusive homes. And while neglect is still a form of abuse, you always have a comfortable spot to sleep in at night, and several yummy, warm meals each day. 

You live in a big traditional Japanese-style home, along with many other people. Some of them are your close relatives, some of them are your distant relatives, and some are people that are unrelated to you but married into the family. There are also those who have been purely hired as workers, to help maintain the home, take care of cleaning, cooking, and so on and so forth. 

Anyways, there are lots of people here—most of whom are sorcerers. 

It’s been vaguely explained to you before. Sorcerers are those born with more cursed energy than most, and have the ability to see and fight cursed spirits. Apparently, cursed spirits are incredibly dangerous. They not only harm people, but can also kill them outright. Hence why sorcerers devote their lives to fighting them, in order to keep everyone else safe. 

You have to acknowledge, it’s a noble cause. Sorcerers actively risk their lives in order to fight curses. That’s the kind of family you’ve been born into. But since your cursed energy is so weak, it doesn’t sound like anyone has high hopes for you. Some people within your family occasionally go on missions to fight curses. They usually come back, but there have been a few instances where you’ve asked where certain people have disappeared to, only to be met with a cold, stone-faced expression in return. 

Death isn’t uncommon in this line of work. That’s why it’s probably for the best that you’re so weak. The stronger the sorcerer, the harder the missions they have to undertake. You would much rather stay home and do chores instead. You’re not strong enough to save anyone. You’re not strong enough to risk your life. And even after all this time, you have yet to see a cursed spirit with your own eyes. 

It’s okay if people ignore you. It’s okay if nobody thinks you have any worth. All you can do is make the most of the life you’ve been given. 

What you don’t yet realize, however, is that you’re destined for something much, much greater. 

One day, you’re sweeping outside the residence’s gates. The sky is clear, and the sun shines brightly overhead. Even though you’re not much older than five years old, people rarely concern themselves with you. They just give you chores to do, then let you be. It’s negligent, of course, since you’re still a young child, but you prefer it this way. You can appreciate the peace and quiet every now and then. Today, you even snuck out a popsicle, and you set your broom aside for a few moments as you unwrap your cold treat. 

Finally, it happens. For the first time since you were born.

A cursed spirit appears before you. 

Your eyes widen. Panicked and caught off guard by the frightening, unfamiliar sight, you stumble backwards, falling to the ground and dropping your popsicle. The curse is a gruesome-looking thing. It has several pairs of big, bulging eyes, a disturbingly wide mouth, with rows upon rows of jagged teeth. It’s bigger than you, too. You’re just a child. You have a tiny, weak frame, and right now, you’re so scared that you can’t even move. 

The cursed spirit approaches you, cackling in an ominous, distorted tone of voice. Tears well up into your eyes. You need to scream. You need to call out for help. Time and time again, you’ve been told that your cursed energy is weak. You’ve been told that you’re weak. Everyone views you as a hindrance. Pathetic. Dispensable. 

Doesn’t that mean… that you have no chance of winning against this thing? 

The cursed spirit lets out a shrill, high-pitched laugh and lunges towards you. It’s too close. You have no chance of escaping. Even if you’d called for help by now, nobody would have been able to get here in time. Even if you’d called for help…

Nobody would care if you died. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing yourself for an onslaught of pain, which is sure to be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. 

But the pain never comes.

When you open your eyes, the cursed spirit is gone. 

“...are you okay?” 

Someone is speaking to you. It takes a few moments for you to wipe away your tears and clear your blurry vision. You’re shaking from head to toe, unsure how you managed to survive, but once your gaze falls upon the boy now standing in front of you, suddenly, it all makes sense. 

Snow-white hair, paired with bright, piercing blue eyes. 

You don’t even need to wait for him to introduce himself. Already, you know who he is.

Gojo Satoru…? 

Just like that, it all comes back to you. His appearance sparks something inside your mind, and you’re hit with an abundance of knowledge, a wealth of information that was hiding beneath the surface until now. You remember everything. 

This isn’t the normal, ordinary world you believed it to be. 

This is the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. 

You wince. You must have had some kind of amnesia until now. It’s no wonder so many things sounded vaguely familiar, but you just couldn’t seem to place them. It makes sense now. It makes sense why you were so clearly aware of everything happening around you, despite being an infant. 

Somehow, you’ve been reincarnated. And into a fictional world, no less. 

You already died once. Back in the real world, as a teenager. There was a devastating earthquake, and you passed away, having suffocated under mounds of debris. You never knew that reincarnation was actually real. You always thought that even if people did reincarnate, they would lose all memories of their previous lives. 

You’re not sure how, or why, but by some miracle, all of the details of your past life have returned to you. 

“Are you okay?” Satoru asks again, frowning slightly. He’s only a child at this point. You’d say he’s about your age. Which means that only did you reincarnate into Jujutsu Kaisen, but you ended up in the same generation as none other than the strongest modern-day sorcerer. 

“I-I’m fine,” you nod. To be honest, you’re not really fine. You’re alive, but it feels like your head is spinning. This is a lot to process. Part of you can’t help but wonder if you’ve lost your damn mind. 

No, that wouldn’t make sense. You’ve been living in this world for several years now. It’s far too realistic, far too detailed to be a figment of your imagination, or some kind of long, drawn-out dream. 

This may not be the world you’re used to, but the fact that you’re here, living and breathing, means that it’s real. 

Which also means that all the horrible deaths that will occur are real, too.

Including Satoru’s. 

Your fists clench without you even realizing it. You’ve been told time and time again that you’re weak. You’ve been told that you’ll never amount to anything. But you’ve just discovered that you have a far greater weapon that you could ever have imagined. You have the kind of knowledge that could shake this world to its core. 

It’s not like you’re some kind of pretentious fool. What can someone like you do when faced with the likes of Sukuna? You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. You shouldn’t get carried away. Even if you do your best to help, there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed. 

But… you’d like to at least try. 

Satoru stares at you for a few moments, just to make sure you’re actually alright, then he turns and starts walking away. He clearly only came here because he sensed the curse and knew someone was in trouble. Now that you’re safe, he has no more reason to stick around. 

He must not have been expecting you to chase after him, though.

“W-Wait!” 

You stumble, nearly tripping over your own feet as you call out to him. Satoru stops and turns towards you with a look of mild disinterest. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

“I just… I wanted to thank you properly. For saving me. So, thank you. Thank you so much.” You pause, lowering your head for a moment, but when your gaze finally lifts, you’re grinning ear-to-ear. “I’m [Name]. What’s your name?” 

Of course, you already know the answer to that question, but the fact that you even asked makes Satoru falter. By now, just about every sorcerer should be able to tell who he is. The day of his birth forever changed the world of jujutsu. The renowned Six Eyes are recognized by all. People instinctively know who he is, without having even met him. He’s never even had to introduce himself.

Until now, for the very first time. 

“...Satoru. Gojo Satoru.”

Neither shock nor realization colors your features. Perhaps you really haven’t heard of him after all. Perhaps that’s why your smile just grows wider, brighter, seemingly without end. He wonders why you’re looking at him with gentleness and warmth, rather than the cold, muted admiration he’s so used to. 

Oddly enough, though, he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he finds himself smiling as well. 

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[mareastrorum]

An incredible amount of the Downfall discourse comes off as people trying to game the trolley problem instead of recognizing that there simply isn’t a right answer.

Everyone fucked up. This was a horrible situation that might have been prevented with more time, communication, empathy, all sorts of corrections. But it’s the trolley problem: what we have is a bunch of gods on one set of tracks and a far larger number of mortals on the other, and ultimately, the gods switched the track to kill mortals.

It wasn’t right. Of course, we could justify it—I’m a lawyer, and I could justify anything. That doesn’t change that it isn’t moral, good, or right.

“But the gods couldn’t kill their family.” Did we not watch C2, filled with shitty genetic families and centered around a group of found family idiots? Family only means what you want it to. Of course the gods could have killed their family. Half of them even wanted to! But the PCs chose not to.

“But the gods are gods, of course they should win.” Maybe it’s the grew-up-a-poor-minority-and-climbed-the-social-ladder in me, but I don’t see the virtue in an argument that those born into power deserve to make decisions about those who weren’t. One of the gods was already replaced by a mortal. Aeorians came up with methods to repel, suppress, contain, and kill gods. Seats of power change, and power doesn’t make someone right. It’s been incredibly surreal to see how many people think this is an acceptable argument.

“But if the gods die, they really die, and mortal souls are immortal.” While we know souls are immortal, the actual experience of the afterlife is a mystery. Is what Deanna described how it always is, or just in the particular plane where her soul ended up? Is it really immortality if the sense of self is lost and that soul is separated from all they loved in life? Similarly, we don’t know what typically happens when gods die because there isn’t a normal way for it to happen. Why were some gods’ names forgotten but they are remembered by the silhouette left behind? Why are other gods remembered like Ethedok and Vordo? We don’t know. Why are we belittling the fact that mortal death is an end while also arguing that it’s horrible how divine death is an end? They’re both ends! That’s a terrible thing to force on someone. It’s wrong.

The point of Downfall is that it was wrong to destroy Aeor. The Prime Deities thought so themselves. Of all the wrong choices, that was what they chose in the moment. They didn’t succeed because they were right; they were simply more powerful and outsmarted their opponents.

Downfall is a wonderful example of a story where the protagonists are not heroes. Bask in the mistakes and failures. Cry. Mourn. It’s a tragedy that every key character contributed to. It didn’t have to end this way. There’s blood on everyone’s hands. They’re all monsters. They’re all people. They were all trying to save something. No one realized they were in a corner until there was no way out but through.

The only correct argument about a moral high ground in this kind of story is that someone survived to stand over the corpses.

[phangneh]

Voice in the Abyss

[ CHAPTER Ⅱ]

✨Manhwa : Into The Light Once Again

✨Elmir royal family x Fem!Reader

✨Warning : princess!reader, lost memory, yandere elements (both platonic and romantic), protect, ... (will add more)

📌Note: this is just a fanfic, there are many details unrelated to the original story line. English is not my native language, if I make grammatical mistakes or use incorrect words, please forgive me.

🎭Summary : You have a voice that is said to change the world, when you sing, your sweet voice makes people happy and all things flourish. One day, your kingdom was destroyed, you had to live with the pain of losing your family and being severely mistreated. But it seems that you will die in misery, there will be people who will come and take you out of the abyss.

[ Introduce ]

[ Chapter 2 ]

"Garibel von Alamask, do you have anything else to say?"

The vanquished knelt on the ground, panting in disheveled form. Garibel von Alamask, the new emperor of the Alamask Empire, after ascending the throne, launched war, conquering the kingdom (K/n) in the East. Taking advantage of (K/n)'s time of poor security and defense, they attacked (K/n) in the night, causing the kingdom already filled with joy to be drowned out by screams. The whole festival, which was born to pray for a prosperous new year, ended in blood.

That's the tragedy.

 With a strong military bloc and formidable forces at his back, Garibel von Alamask led an army towards the Elmir Empire following a two-year monopoly (K/n).

However, their ambitions fail completely under the sword of Elmir's Emperor.

"Hah..." Seemingly unrepentant, Garibel glanced up into his deadly blue eyes. His lips twisted into a twisted, mocking smile.

"Just one more moment..." He whispered, recalling why he was doing these things, "Perhaps my plan will come to pass." He had not felt guilty up until now. A twisted, irreparably insane soul who takes genocide for pleasure. Garibel killed his siblings and the previous Emperor to inherit the throne.

He was a demon in human disguise.

"Even now, you still maintain that bottomless greed. As expected, nothing has changed, right?" Emperor Tyrion frowned, his eyes showing contempt and hatred.

The space fell silent again, and the surrounding knights couldn't help but feel tense in the gloomy atmosphere.

"Your presence in the world is an impurity, an insult to the Creator God." The harsh words were slowly uttered in an even tone, but it was still not enough to move the sinner.

"(Y/n) (L/n), that girl... Vocals can change the world." 

"?"

"Finally, it's time to get close to death... I still can't get that weapon to work as I please... I wonder what it is, after all?"

"What are you talking about?"

Garibel looked up at the Emperor standing in front of him, his deep eyes gleaming with frenzy.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?"

"Dad, what do you think he meant?" The handsome young man spoke with a puzzled expression; Garibel's words stuck in his head. Unfortunately, there is no satisfactory explanation for that statement.

Because Garibel is dead. A sudden death was something no one at the scene could have expected. He screamed in pain, his whole body emitting a jet black aura, as if... being drained of the soul from the body. When he stopped, he himself was like a dried corpse. Emperor Tyrion frowned at his son's question; indeed, he couldn't help but feel puzzled, his words, his death, none of them had an explanation.

"About that... I don't know. Let's wait for the results of the mages on his death."

The Crown Prince hummed, but inside he couldn't stop thinking. The girl named (Y/n) they find in the dungeon is actually the princess of the kingdom (K/n), who is also the last surviving person of that kingdom. There had to be some reason why Garibel kept her like that.

"Weapons...?" Prince Isis muttered, thinking about the word; maybe it was the focus they needed to think about.

"Tomorrow we will return to Elmir... As for the remnants of the kingdom (K/n) are temporarily left there, the princess of (K/n) is still alive; we must not touch what is left of this Kingdom arbitrarily." 

"(Y/n) is asleep."

Aisha whispered to Empress Iris. The Empress smiled lightly, Looking down at the little girl who was sleeping, indescribable emotions rose up in her heart. It was perhaps a mixture of concern and pity, as well as an affectionate concern.

"I'm glad she's getting better."

Aisha nodded. Everyone in the palace is excited to see you get better. Compared to the previous situation, it is really different. Although she was happy, the little princess still had things still in her heart.

One thing that makes her think for a long time, when you are brought back to Elmir, they invited a high priest to treat you. With such magic, you should have woken up earlier, but it took you almost a month to wake up. Even Aisha tried to directly heal you with her magic but there was no progress, which made Aisha doubt herself. But no, it's not... After many magical treatments, priests realize that your body receives very little of their magic. It's only a matter of time before you wake up from sleep, which is why your injuries, scars, and physical strength recover so poorly despite a lot of treatment. In order to avoid damaging their magic, Empress Iris decides to switch to the usual medicine treatment option and combine it with the healing magic of the priests.

"The royal doctor said her vocal cords had recovered by now... But Y/n hasn't said anything yet..." Aisha said worriedly, looking at your slender hand.

"Maybe now isn't the time... If she wanted to, she would say it."

Her eyes were filled with sadness. When Aisha learned that you were imprisoned in the underground dungeon of your own kingdom, she immediately remembered what she had experienced in her previous life, those dark memories, which she still cannot forget now.

Aisha, in her previous life, was the fourth princess of the Edenberg Empire, at that time the Edenberg Empire rivaled Elmir. Her name used to be Alisa; although she was a princess, it was always discussed, it was not worthy of the title of princess at all. Her raven-black hair and gloomy blue eyes were different from those of her sister Marianne, the fifth princess of Edenberg, who were likened to jewels. how much she loved Mari, in the end it was the little brother she loved with all her heart that staged her manslaughter of her, leaving her imprisoned in a dungeon, subject to scorn from her own family. And then, Alisa was sentenced to death for something she didn't do.

Alisa died like that. Wrongful death, pain, and anguish. No one believed her. And to this day, Aisha could not understand: Why did Marianne do this to her?

But now she is Aisha de Elmir, Elmir's only princess, Elmer's one and only star. There will be no more days of suffering like that.

Aisha pursed her lips; she understood what it was like to be locked in a dark, moldy prison. Very lonely and sad. Every time she remembered it, it gave her chills. How extraordinary you are to persist until now. Despite all that trauma, you have lived there for 2 years and waited for the day to be freed... Even though you're alone now.

Take your hand. Aisha wants to protect you, which is what she wants after knowing everything you've been through. Your situation is like an invisible but extremely sure thread that connects to her heart. Aisha really wants to protect you at all costs.

As if seeing her gaze on you, Iris said softly, "I remember Aisha as a child..."

Her mother's voice caught her attention, and the princess looked up at her mother and then met her affectionate amethyst eyes.

"Everyone in the palace is worried because Aisha hasn't said a word, I myself am also very worried… hm, but I still believe that one day you'll say, no matter how far away, I'm willing to wait."

It reminds Aisha of her past experiences when she was raised from the dead to become Elmir's princess. Because she was obsessed with what she had experienced in Edenberg, she rebuffed and avoided everyone around her... even though she was an infant at the time.

"Then finally, on your 1st birthday, you spoke first," Empress Iris paused, recalling the moment her little girl called out "mom" for the first time. It would be perhaps the most memorable moment of her life. The moment when all her anticipation paid off was bursting with overflowing happiness.

"I'm so happy, Aisha. And surely your father and Isis feel the same way." Iris looked up at Aisha, smiling.

"Maybe (Y/n) too; one day, she'll say... so let's wait together, Aisha?"

Aisha's heart fluttered, instantly enveloped by warmth and happiness. Being reborn in the love of her family is the happiest and luckiest thing in her life, something Aisha didn't feel when she was Alisa del Edenberg. The gods gave her a chance to live in the light of love. Princess Aisha looked down at you again, her hand still holding yours...

If so, will you ever feel happiness like she did in the future?

You are just an innocent person living in pain—the pain of losing your family and the destruction of your kingdom. If God has eyes, he will surely give you a chance to live happily, which you deserve after all your suffering. Then your beautiful eyes will no longer be sad...

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, sounding like a servant. After obtaining the consent of Queen Iris, the servant entered, accompanied by an announcement.

"Your Highness, there is an announcement from Emperor: tomorrow His Majesty the Emperor, Crown Prince, and the knights will return to Elmir from (K/n)."

"Ah, dad and brother Isis will return tomorrow ?" Aisha's eyes lit up when she heard the news, which was good news. 

Aisha of course couldn't help but be happy, her father and brother finally returned after a long time away. Even though they corresponded with each other, wouldn't it be much better to meet face to face and be together. Princess Aisha began to feel nervous and excited when she thought she could hug her brother in her arms after not seeing each other for a long time.

The return of the Emperor and Crown Prince will certainly bring relevant information about you.

...

"..."

"You gave me a spring full of desire.”

“A fresh spring full of light everywhere..."

Singing?

Someone is singing; you hear it.

"You brought youth to this land.”

“Echoing singing contains the love of life."

It's nice.

You wonder who's singing; her voice is so soft and sweet that you don't know what words to use to describe that voice.

But... It's strange; it makes you feel familiar, both vocally and with this song, as if you've met it somewhere. How familiar it is—when did you hear it?—you can't remember.

In your sleep, that mysterious voice makes you feel at peace.

"The darkness receded, and the birds sang joyfully."

“And then, from here, the sunshine shines a new life.”

“Following in your footsteps, I see a bright future.”

Who? Who's that?

"(Y/n)..."

"(Y/n)"

"Come on, let's go home..."

Awake. Your dreamy eyes caught sight of someone's figure standing next to your bed. The boy looked like he was smiled. You couldn't see his face well with your foggy thoughts.

"Sister, let's go home together!"

"Our parents and everyone are waiting for you!"

A boy's little voice is always ringing in your ears, reminding you to return home. The boy's words ignited something within of you. You came to the realization that you had been missing something crucial the entire time. It is so significant that when it vanishes from your memory, you feel empty and depressed.

Your home.

Maybe that's it. Have you forgotten it?

“Why don't I remember anything?" You ask yourself.

Somewhere, the voice keeps ringing, piques your interest. Right now your body feels weirdly heavy, your eyes are constantly shutting, and you are immobile.

"Sister, let's go home."

…

In the end, you continued to fall asleep with the pleasant sound of singing wafting in your ears.

Continue to [ Chapter 3 ]

[del-stars]

what’s some of your favourite black brothers hcs?

bless you for sending this and giving me the opportunity to yap

i wish i could remember who posted this hc but sirius got stuck in walburga's ribs in birth and regulus was born blue/not breathing

sirius constantly causing walburga pain during her pregnancy, burrowing as far inside of her as he could, only to be ripped from her into a reality that will constantly tear them apart vs regulus being doomed from the very beginning, dying so young because he shouldn't be alive in the first place MHM YUP

sirius was the favorite child. this led to regulus trying to copy sirius in absolutely everything he does when they were very little

sirius bore the brunt of physical punishment because of the expectations/attention constantly placed upon them. regulus, on the other hand, suffered from neglect

incredibly competitive household, everything they do is compared against each other. recipe for sibling failure

i could write an entire essay on how sirius internalises his failure to be a 'good heir' into thinking something is inherently wrong with him/how regulus' being born second gave him limitless rage at everything around him

even after sirius is sorted into gryffindor and, by his family's definition, becomes a major fuck-up, walburga wants and hopes that he will assume the demeanor and responsibilities of being heir. this is where regulus' resentment of sirius is born: regulus has always been good, has always kept his mouth shut and done what he should, and yet he's still not fit to be heir, even when sirius so obviously doesn't want it. walburga wants her eldest son to be 'perfect' again so badly that she can't see that regulus fits all of her requirements

and after regulus is sorted into slytherin, sirius begins to resent him. now that he can see that he isn't just a black sheep - the rest of the world is nothing at all like his family - he wants regulus to follow in his footsteps, and he won't. he sees regulus as weak for continuing to bend to their family's ways and strive to impress them

so, by age twelve or thirteen, they hate each other. that's the tragedy. they don't come back from this. regulus thinks sirius is ungrateful and out of control, and sirius thinks regulus is a coward and a bigot

regulus spiralssssss because of how much he hates sirius. it is pure, unbridled jealousy. he isolates himself, lets himself be driven by negativity, and tries desperately to mask his inherent sense of inferiority by positioning himself as superior due to his blood status. this makes him the perfect candidate for targeted radicalisation by the de's/bellatrix

sirius does not regret leaving and does not wish he could've taken regulus with him. regulus was fucking over the moon that sirius ran away, and was also part of the reason sirius needed to leave. i will die on this hill

i will always think their characterisations are more interesting/compelling when you make them hate each other. they are fundamentally so different that you can't just swap traits/storylines between them. regulus is SUCH an interesting villain and i wish people explored him in this light more rather than just giving him sirius' story

they are a product of their circumstance. in any other universe they probably could've bonded over their shared trauma (which is why i love my black brother modern aus), but in the one they're in they are destined to be torn apart.

and now, the mini moodboard:

[mmavverickk]

Pjo hadcanon, - demigods don't really suffer from PTSD, they can't suffer emotionally at all or are as blunted as possible.

They are disconnected from their feelings/emotions and cannot react to bad things Like ordinary people.

They are frighteningly indifferent to any pain, mental or physical - the pain from physical injuries or something emotional lingers for a maximum of a couple of weeks and then disappears into oblivion like a morning mist. grief passes easily and quickly, fear disappeared in a few minutes, the risk of pleasant waves of adrenaline warming the blood.

And they are prone to sadism and any enjoyment of any kind of violence.

It doesn't matter if it's over yourself, a monster, a mortal, or another demigod.

They are always happy to use weapons or hands/abilities.

These children learn to hold weapons, wear armor and be able to cause serious harm, as soon as they enter the camp, do not expect anything normal/correct or at least explicable from them.

They are not human, they - living weapons, expertly crafted from golden divine blood and mortal flesh.

They were born to fight and die in battle with a blissful smile on their lips.

They were born with broken souls and sick minds.

It's just that someone is bigger, someone is smaller.

this is a fun headcanon, but i want to put a bit of an angstier spin on it:

these children are human, but only partly. they can suffer PTSD. they know what's happened to them, what's been done to them, is wrong. they can suffer flashbacks and repressed memories and trouble sleeping and nightmares and intrusive thoughts and panic attacks and depression and apathy. they do suffer it. but they always get back up. there's surety in their recovery, and there's tragedy in it. they can't stop, can't falter, can't take time to process, can't slow down enough to work through their trauma before the next terrible thing happens.

these demigods are too inhuman to move at a normal pace. they have too much mythical strength in their bones and their blood to stop for any amount of time and heal. they throw themselves at each threat that comes their way like a battering ram with terrifying speed and strength and awareness. it just builds, and builds, and builds until they die or they break.

(sometimes, they think the ones who do die are the lucky ones.)

maybe it's the ever-growing trauma. maybe it's the divinity in their veins. maybe it's something entirely new, entirely too human to be godly, but too godly to be human. maybe they've just finally snapped.

some slowly feel their grasp on reality slipping. what time is it? did they sleep through a whole day again? when did they get to the lava wall? how did they reach the top, and is that a real burn on their hand? it doesn't hurt. is that a camper, or a monster? did the border fail? are those heavy footsteps outside the cabin real? are they really still alive, or is this their eternal punishment for failing succeeding?

some watch as their moral code slips through their fingers like sand. they'll fight as hard as they have to to save their siblings and their allies. they'll kill any monsters that come their way. maybe, they'll kill any demigods, too. maybe even humans. maybe they couldn't save someone, but the battle was still a victory. maybe that sacrifice was necessary to win. maybe sacrifices are okay, to minimize the damage. maybe damage is okay, so long as the enemy dies. maybe, just maybe, a pyrrhic victory is worth it, no matter who was lost, so long as they're still standing at the end of it all.

some stop feeling. it starts as depression. is winning wars worth it if they couldn't save everyone? their sibling died, their friends and lover died, and the world still turns on, cold and unfeeling. maybe cold and unfeeling is the way to go. maybe joy is unnecessary in the long run. maybe sadness is, too. maybe it will make things better. they pick themselves up, resume their routine. everything is normal. archery practice. lava wall. weapon smithing. capture the flag. everything is normal. everything is numb. why should the gods care when their children can't even manage it?

some turn violent. they grew up in war, training endlessly, fighting battle after battle, the only thing standing between the world and its doom. what is there to do now that the war is over, is won, than train more? practice weapons they've never tried, master moves they've never managed. kill in ways they've never thought of. they grew up in war. what good are they without it? what good is a weapon, just sitting around, gathering dust? maybe hurting people isn't right, but if it makes them feel something, isn't it worth it?

it's a cold world. it's not meant for children, human children. those children evolve to survive, and what they turn into barely resembles their mortal parentage. it's a dog eat dog world, survival of the fittest, and the unlucky ones? the ones that didn't die? the ones stuck in their trauma and PTSD and broken minds? they have to figure out how to live in it.

[mhsdatgo]

Alicent crowing aegon exposing her children to more risk than just letting rhaenyra became queen. Rhaenyra wanted that throne, there is no way she would have accepted those "terms", and alicent is 100% aware of this in the book and in the show as well. By crowning aegon she start a war and put her children DIRECTLY on the battlefield against people who were more experienced in war like daemon or ride dragon longer like rhaenyra and rhaenys amd consequently may control their dragon better. If you didn't want to consider a crash between two or more dragons, even if they were on a dragon against an army the danger is very high, look at rhaenys the conqueror or aemon the first son of jaehaerys, they were on dragon's back and yet both of them were killed by arrow. Not to mention that both in the book and in the show alicent spend years creating animosity with rhaenyra, If you TRULY believe that someone may hurt your children you do everything you can to maintain at least a civil relationship, and not constantly provoke them and then cry about how your children may be hurt by your stupidity. Because that what alicent has done in the book starting hating rhaenyra, pray viserys to name Aegon as heir and constantly share gossip to damage rhaenyra's image (with a 10 years old girl, meanwhile Alicent was a GROWN woman), and in the show the situation is not different. The truth is that alicent’s action were based on her own ambitious in the book and on her resentment to rhaenyra in the show, but NEVER in the interest of her children. In fact aegon never wanted to be king, he was forced by her and has to endure all the consequences while watching all of his family die

Ladies and gentlemen, here we have someone who quite literally didn't get a single thing about Fire and Blood.

See, anons like these are what makes my blood boil at the writers of HotD for making Rhaenyra appear like a saint which not only made most of the decisions she'll take from this moment onward out of (show) character (as far as character building and development goes) but also fucking boring.

I'm always one to listen to different points of view and interpretations of books as complicated as these, but something that has always bugged me is the way this fandom CANNOT DIGEST the type of tragedy that is just inevitable.

It was never about picking sides, it was never about sexism, it was always about kin torn apart by kin and their own flaws dragging them down. There was no way to ever avoid that and I cannot have a proper discussion about F&B with anyone who doesn't understand this first.

Moreover, just what do you think Alicent should've done? Shut up, be quiet, sit still and look pretty while Daemon's spies turned her children into bloody shreds? Allow them to be assassinated because of the threat they pose to Rhaenyra's claim? Does everything revolve around her? Is she some kind of Twilight Sparkle?

Let me tell you this: no woman would willingly step back and leave their children to their own devices when their own lives pose a threat to someone else's interests.

I have respect for Rhaenyra and her will to fight for what she believed was her birthright (although let's be honest, it was a feeling born out of nothing but the entitlement of a spoiled brat, it turned into a war of parents after one of each faction's children was killed) but I also have so much more respect for Alicent and her courage to bare teeth and claws and plan a coup to be allowed the upper hand and more possibilities of looking after her children if one of them is ruling. It's not "stupidity" it's awareness. And acting according to it.

It's true that Alicent has her own ambitions, but to say that they started growing in her when she was nothing but an 18 year old girl marrying a 30 year old man... Do you hear yourself? That's a girl getting graduated from high school. Oh shiver me timbers, we're scared of young adults here.

Everyone likes and loves and adores to talk about the way ALICENT was having beef with Rhaenyra as a 10 year old but nevermind Rhaenyra placing a bounty on two toddlers and one of them getting ripped apart because of it. Nevermind her refusing that bastard Corlys' advice to take Daeron as a hostage and demanding that he be killed instead. (Because this bitch was the #1 threat to her rule, but y'all aren't ready for that conversation)

She never "prayed" for Aegon to be named as heir, what she DID pray for was for him and Rhaenyra to be betrothed to one another. I hate Rhaegon personally, (no hate to any Rhaegon stan that reads this ♥️) but honestly this is the only marriage that could've MAYBE prevented the Dance. It started because there were two claimants to the throne. Just marry them to each other and the issue was solved. Both of them get crowned, no Dance, peace.

But noooooo, Viserys, the incompetent twat, as always had to act like an incompetent twat and be like "lol but they don't get along". IT WAS HIM WHO DOOMED HIS CHILDREN, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF HIS SONS AND DAUGHTERS. ALL. OF. THEM.

Everyone else acted as a consequence to the cluterfuck that the sick old man created. Namely, chaos. What else did you expect?

[itsabouttimex2]

Platonic yandere monkey family finding out y/n is dating redson

Monkiefam reacts to dating Red Son

(Alternate Scenario)

MK will no doubt be the calmest about this situation... depending on the season. In the start, he’ll be incredibly upset (even somewhat betrayed) about you dating his very dangerous rival. Let’s not forget that Red Son was once very willing to harm innocent people in his quest to take over the world/please his father.

Once Early!MK learns about your relationship with Red Son he’s genuinely worried for you, thinking you might have been coerced into the relationship in some way. This fear sets him on the war path, racing off to the Demon Bull King’s fortress. He’ll unhesitatingly smash through hordes of Bull Clones, ripping apart the metal of the drones like wet tissue paper. Each machine-shattering swing of the Ruyi Jingu Bang brings him a step closer to you, a step closer to the dining hall that serves as the center room of the armored fortress.

Where he finds you and Red Son sitting across from one another, happily sharing a meal together.

His heart is struck with anger and relief in unison, his diametric emotions spread between the both of you. He’s furious at Red Son, for daring to try and court his precious sibling, but also eased by the fact that you’re clearly unharmed and here by your own will and volition. By nature of being someone very precious to him, you garner far less anger from MK than his rival does, but he’s still upset. His voice takes on a gruff edge as he angrily scolds you, sounding much like Pigsy does when the chef flips his lid.

“You came here?! Without telling me?! To go on a date with my rival?!”

Any protests, excuse, or explanations from you are summarily dismissed as he grabs you by the wrist, swinging his golden staff against the ground. Bits of tech and clutter from around the house gather together, forming a small mech with the both of you in the cockpit. Red Son can only stare in shock as MK’s brand new mech stomps out of the fortress, each angry step shaking the ground.

The ride home is tempestuous, his emotions flaring as he pilots the gold and red mech, biting his tongue to keep himself from yelling at you. He’s angry, sure, but he still loves you. MK doesn’t want to drive you away or hurt your feelings, after all. He just wants to keep you safe.

Even if it means cutting you off from your ‘boyfriend’. He’s only doing it for your own good, of course.

Sun Wukong has seen people make a lot of bad decisions in his time. Even as knowledge and resources grow wider spread and more readily available, people stay foolish, small-minded, reckless. Sometimes by circumstance. Sometimes by choice. And one of the greatest motivators for foolish decisions, staying consistent through the centuries-

is love.

Love, whether fleeting and passionate or slow and drudging, changes people. It inspires them to perform grand gestures, to better themselves, to grow and learn. Love makes people into artists, writers, sculptors, all so that they can share with the world with the white-hot beat of their hearts.

And then, equal and opposite, it drives them to violence and bloodshed. Blood-red hands born of green-eyed envy driven to take up sharp knives and heavy cudgels. It breeds wicked plots and gruesome schemes, tricking people into throwing their lives away for a fleeting flame that’s destined to burn out.

Love is beautiful and dangerous in equal amounts, something to be both cherished and feared.

Sun Wukong has seen both outcomes. He’s personally dealt with tragedies born of love, many times over. Not every coupling ends with marriage and children, a ring and a promise.

His own sworn brother, Zhu Baije, was cast out of heaven for attempting to seduce Guanyin, being reborn as a pig demon. Then, he never returned to the maiden in Gao village that he fell for, instead spending his life as a cleanser of altar leftovers.

Kui Mulang was separated from his lover for his crimes, and forced to become a furnace keeper. Tang Sanzang refused to marry the queen of the Women’s Kingdom, and then rejected the scorpion demon that stole him away.

He doesn’t tell you all of that, of course. He nudges you with an elbow and gives you a cheeky grin, saying that: “It doesn’t always end well, bud. Trust me, I’ve seen more than a few things in my time that would have you running for a cloister.”

He doesn’t warn you off of love entirely, or threaten you to not start dating. In fact, he’s not entirely opposed to the idea of you having a significant other. He’s a pretty easy-going guy, even when he’s staring down his enemies or cracking skulls open.

In fact, depending on who you go after, he might be entirely supportive of you!

Red Son is not a decision he will abide by, unfortunately. There’s just too many flaws to count, in Wukong’s opinion. Short-tempered, egotistical, elitist, violent, power-hungry… nothing that qualifies him to be your partner, honestly.

So the Great Sage goes about trying to casually split the two of you up, whether it’s finding his way “by coincidence” into your dates, or crashing any meetings you and the demon have. What can he say? He gets around a lot more these days, doesn’t he? It’s not strange to meet up in popular places around Megapolis.

Even though he continues to show up wherever you and Red Son meet, no matter how “off the beaten path” or “hole in the wall” it may be. He’ll never justify himself or explain why he’s there. But he will grab a table and join the two of you.

He might not be outright sabotaging the relationship, but he sure makes it hard to maintain and grow. He won’t candidly ruin it, but he keeps pushing and pushing, slowly fraying your nerves. It’s a trap, where he’s trying to push you into snapping at him. And if you do fall for it?

It does get worse.

Try to lash out at him, or demand that he go away. Yell at him, or push him away. Try it, and he’ll throw you over his shoulder and hop onto his flying cloud, racing you back to Flower Fruit Mountain. From there, he’ll forbid you from being with Red Son again, grounding you for the outburst he intentionally provoked.

Watching you grow upset with his decree, Wukong will wipe away the tears gathering up in your eyes, and pull you into a hug to comfort you. He doesn’t want you upset. He just wants you to himself.

“It’s alright, bud. Don’t worry about that fire guy. He’s pretty awful, honestly. Let’s sit down and watch something fun to take your mind off him, alright?”

And; for now at least, he’s got you.

No. Absolutely not. Macaque refuses to allow it. He doesn’t want to see you with anybody, but least of all a “hot-headed demon with daddy issues,” as he puts it. Where Wukong will show restraint by never outright ruining your dates and outings together, Macaque crosses that line unhesitatingly. Once he learns that you’re openly and happily dating a dangerous demon, he sets out to find you and rectify this little issue.

He stalks out to the park that you and Red Son are walking through, quietly following along as his glare burns into the demon’s back. His fury reaches a boiling point when the two of you settle onto a bench, Red Son’s hand slowly reaching out to yours.

He furiously stomps through the park, coming up behind the both of you. The shadows writhe and roil with each step he takes, coming alive to lash at the ground around them with ice-cold tendrils.

He summons up his shadow staff and swings it down, smashing the middle of the bench you and your boyfriend are sitting on to announce his presence, cleaving the metal cleanly and easily. You and Red Son both scramble to your feet, shocked and more than a little scared.

You specifically.

If there’s anything that gives him reason to pause, anything that stops him in his tracks, it’s the look of outright fear in your eyes. He takes a moment to catch his breath, dispelling his staff and quieting the rioting shadows. He’s still angry, sure. But he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him. So, even though he’s seething with fury, he stops short of actually harming Red Son, instead settling for dragging you away by your ear as you argue and protest his rough hold on you.

Macaque pulls you over to a shadow portal, still gripping your quickly-reddening ear between his thumb and pointer finger, pushing you in before him. He whips around to shoot Red Som a death glare, then turns back and jumps in after you.

You both pop out inside your shared house, Macaque’s foot tapping impatiently as he folds his arms, staring at you disapprovingly. You rub at your sore ear, glaring right back.

“No dating. I already told you this. One, you’re too young. Two, anyone could be an opponent in disguise. Three, he’s dangerous. Seriously, bad call. I thought you were smarter than this, kid.”

He goes silent when he sees the tears beading up in the corners of your eyes, maybe from pain, maybe from his lecture. He did just technically call you stupid. Macaque sighs, and pats your head.

“Look, just… go lay down. See if you can’t get some shut-eye, alright? I’ll check up on you when it’s time to eat.”

He sends you off to your room, spinning you around and nudging you off, sighing as you go. His powerful ears make it impossible to ignore your quiet sniffles and the sound of tears hitting the hardwood floors.

He’s not the bad guy here, he reminds himself. The bad guy is whoever’s trying to corrupt you or steal you away from him. Them, not him.

Never him.

[northlt03]

There are five parts to this story. Five people. Like the points of a star. Five stories. Four families. Five very, very traumatized kids. Though they weren't just kids at the end of it, that's how they started.

Regulus doesn't know when it all went wrong. When everything went to the dogs. Maybe it was when he begged Kreacher to leave without him. Maybe it was when he stepped into the cave with a fake locket in hand. Maybe it was when the Dark lord asked for Kreacher specifically. Maybe it was when he got the mark burned on his arm, more of a brand than a tattoo. Maybe it was when James Potter left and all the light seemed to leave his world. Maybe it was when his brother left their home. Maybe it was before that, when they were just kids. Maybe his tragedy was written far before he was born.

Whatever the reason. He was the first to die. Certainly not the last.

So he should be the narrator. It's something poetic, he thinks. The dead watching over the living. He was the first to go and like idiots, his friends followed.

The first time Regulus Black met Evan and Pandora Rosier, he was four. Sirius was five and disruptive already. He could never sit still. Evan and Pandora could.

And though four year old Regulus held his brother in the highest regard, he also wished for peace and quiet sometimes. He was also a rule following little shit. So if his mother said he had to get to know the children of other pureblood families, that is what he intended to do.

Regulus was fascinated by Evan and Pandora the first time he met them. There was just some other-worldly quality to them. As if they hadn't been meant to live on Earth at all.

And though they shared the same features with the rest of their family- meticulously styles blond hair and blue eyes, they didn't look like they quite belonged there either.

Evan Rosier had always been an enigma, someone entirely impossible to miss even if one was trying. And believe him, at first, Regulus tried. If Pandora was the rose, Evan was the bush. Guarded, prickly, but once he opened up, there was no telling when he would shut up.

Regulus grew fond of his annoying rants about any and every topic.

They never did talk about their parents. that was a forbidden topic. What happened in a family stayed in a family. No matter how close the Rosiers and the Blacks were, no matter if they were actually related.

Evan saw the marks on Regulus' pale skin. Regulus saw Evan flinch when his father raised his voice. Pandora saw Regulus shrink into the corner. Regulus saw her dissociate when it all got too much.

Pandora Rosier, named after a tragedy. She had told him the myth behind her name the first time they met. It felt jarring having a four year old casually say something so tragic without blinking. Regulus grew to like her queer habits, her strange stories and her ways.

Like Regulus, their paths were set in stone. Evan would grow and have to take over from his father. He would be betrothed and marry whichever pureblood his parents chose for him.

Regulus found cracks in his acts sometimes. His father did too. Little flinches, little frowns and scowls. He never spoke up, never said anything, but made it abundantly clear he never wanted any of that.

Pandora would have to marry some pureblood as well. The best suitor their parents could find, anyone that could strengthen their ties and keep their blood pure. She had suggested getting married to Regulus once as a joke and the three of them laughed all afternoon long.

Regulus knew he wasn't normal by the time he was seven or eight. When his eyes lingered on the boys his age at the balls. He would sail though the room with Pandora in his arms, trying his best not to step on her toes as they danced. But his eyes would seek out others. Even Evan at a point (they laughed about it later when they got older).

Regulus had known about the Dark Lord far before he stepped foot into Hogwarts. The wizard was like a dark shadow over him and his family. But merely a shadow, or so Regulus thought when he was younger. A boogey man in the shadows parents told children about to scare them into obedience.

As such, before he was eleven, Regulus had only known one type of people. The ones like his family. Pureblood, racist, rich assholes his brother despised so much.

It had been made abundantly clear to him that he wasn't his brother and he should never even try to be. After the disappointment of him getting sorted into Gryffindor, his parents had started to give up him.

Which still left Regulus in their clutches.

Regulus met Barty Crouch Jr in the line to get sorted. With their names so close in alphabetical order, they ended up right after one another.

But there was something that transcended their meeting. Something inevitable. Like two stars hurtling toward each other across the universe, finally exploding in a fiery supernova.

Barty Crouch jr was insane. That is the first impression Regulus remembered having of him. Even though he was a pureblood, Regulus had been told by his parents he was of the lesser kind. His father, a muggleborn sympathizer, which made him of the same category as the muggles. Filthy and disgusting.

Regulus tried to limit their interaction. But it was impossible to ignore Barty. Not because he had something profound to say or because he was magnetic. But simply because he talked a lot.

It was sometimes like he stole all the light in the room he walked into and put it over himself until there was nothing else to see but him. Until people had no choice but to look at him.

Regulus despised that about him at first. He and Evan gossiped under their covers about him in their first year after they had all been sorted together.

Just because they were all in one dorm did not necessarily mean they would have to be friends. So Regulus and Evan stuck together, with Pandora who would walk over from her Ravenclaw table over to their Slytherin one occasionally.

Barty tried to force his way into their little group, but they were pretty tight knit. Evan took his hatred for Barty Crouch jr as seriously as his father's for muggles.

Until one day when a girl sitting next to them laughed.

Regulus had first thought of Dorcas Meadowes as someone unimportant solely because she wasn't one of them, not from a pureblood family and not rich and certainly not a blood purist.

Sometimes, he thought he wouldn't be who he was if it wasn't for Dorcas Meadowes. She was witty and charming, quick to bite back and poke fun. She never took their insults to heart, going so far as to insult them back.

Pandora befriended her first. Then Evan who got dragged into it by his sister and then eventually, yes, even Regulus.

Barty Crouch jr was the first boy Regulus ever kissed. He promptly turned around and walked out of their dorm the moment they separated, his heart beating so fast in his chest he had thought it would fall out.

He hated Barty, like Evan did. Hated him because he did things like that, wrapped Regulus around his finger with pretty words and batting his eyelashes and then kissed him. He hated Barty because he pulled Regulus deeper and deeper into a hell Regulus knew he couldn't escape.

It was second year when Regulus first saw Barty with a bruise on his jaw that he wasn't bragging about. He was quiet, which was uncharted territory for Barty. And so, despite all his common sense telling him not to, Regulus became friends with Barty.

Dorcas never bought into the whole blood supremacy, her parents weren't like theirs. Regulus was so jealous of her, though he'd never admit that aloud. Dorcas didn't have to pledge her allegiance to the dark lord, never had to suffer through dinner with families like his, never had the fear that perforated every single inch of Regulus.

Regulus and Evan had to join. They had no other choice. It was allegiance or death. It caused the first rift between them and the girls. Barty, Regulus still thinks, just joined to defy his father. Or it might have something to do with the longing glances he shared with Evan, their silent beds at night, almost as if spells had been cast to keep eavesdroppers away, their clandestine meetings, their disshelved looks as they emerged from rooms alone.

In any case, knowing their story doesn't change the ending. Regulus still lost the love of his life. He still went against the dark lord. He still died. All for nothing.

The last time he saw Evan Rosier, he had a feeling his best friend knew. Evan kept the conversation going, bringing random topics as if desperate to keep Regulus talking to him, as if that could delay the inevitable, as if he could steal time to keep his best friend a little longer.

Regulus lingered in his doorway a moment longer than needed.

The last time he saw Pandora, he sobbed in her arms. He clung like she was the only constant in his life. He sobbed in her arms like she was who Sirius was supposed to be for him.

And she held him without complaint. She sobbed with him, begging him not to go.

Regulus did not linger in her doorway.

If there was anyone who could have convinced him not to do what he was planning to, it was her.

The last time he saw Dorcas, they had a fight. Regulus wanted to shake her by her shoulders. I'm going to die. He wanted to yell at her. I'm going to die, please don't let these be my last words to you. Please don't remember me like this.

Coward, she called him.

The word replayed in his head all the way to the cave.

I'm trying to be brave. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell James.

The last time he saw Barty, they got drunk. Just two kids, laughing and giggling among themselves. Regulus was tempted to tell him what he was going to do. He didn't.

He'd find out from the papers like the others.

Barty, eyes half lidded, that troublemaker smile on his face that Regulus had hated at first, sat back and pulled out a box from his pocket.

I'm going to ask him to marry me. He said. I don't care if the preacher doesn't marry us, I'll carve his heart out for Evan. I'll carve my own out for him.

Barty was just the sort of deranged who actually would.

Regulus lingered in his doorway, staring at a passed out Barty. He walked back in, kissed his hair, closed the ring box in his hand and put it back in his pocket before he left.

Barty didn't ask Evan to marry him. Not after Regulus never came back to them. Not after they both kept waiting for their star.

Dorcas wailed like Regulus had never heard her. She clutched her chest, her lover holding her like she could protect her from the evils of the world. And Dorcas collapsed in her arms.

And Regulus knew they were all broken far before that day.

Pandora didn't cry. She didn't laugh from that day on either.

Evan died next. A battle that too. Just the sort of dramatics Barty loved. Regulus watched it all play out.

Barty was too headstrong, too obsessed with going against his father, even if it meant being on opposite sides of the wand.

He was angry, so angry. He didn't know how Regulus died, or what he died doing. Maybe he thought Regulus died because of the other side. Whatever the reason, he took his anger out on others, on anyone not Death Eaters.

He was grinning one moment, using the Cruciatus curse on some ministry employee. He was laughing, oh gods, what had they come to?

He looked away, searching for the love of his life. Evan was halfway across the room, locked in a duel with Alastor Moody. Evan was a strong wizard, Barty knew, so he laughed when Evan blasted the guy's face, blowing nearly a chunk of his face off.

Moody had lost and eye, Barty was so proud of his lover, and Evan laughed as he looked at Barty.

Evan had a ring in his pocket now. Barty's was in a box full of Regulus' things. Maybe in another life, Evan could have asked him only for Barty to pull his ring out. They'd cry and laugh as they slid their rings on.

Instead, in the split second it took for Evan to look at Barty, in love, distracted, Moody sent a killing curse. It hit him straight in the chest. Evan was dead before the grin was wiped off Barty's face.

Dorcas died next. She never did talk to Barty ever again. Not when he came sobbing on her doorstep, on his knees. He lost everything. And so had she.

Marlene had just been killed the week before. Barty pleaded and begged, told her it was Peter Pettigrew who killed her. Dorcas did not believe him.

The Dark lord himself had to kill her.

And then there were two.

Pandora died soon after. Regulus was glad she at least got to have a husband, someone she loved. Her parents were dead, her brother also gone, and her best friends. All dead. She had a daughter, a small bundle of joy with hair so blond it was almost white and with the same curiosity in her eyes Pandora always had.

It was good. Until one day it wasn't.

And Barty was left alone, to wander for years. The only one left.

He didn't join them in the after life. But the Dementor kiss isn't what stole his soul. He had died far before his mortal body did.

He died when Regulus did. He died when Evan did. He died when Dorcas did. And he died when Pandora did. So when it was his time to leave. There was nothing left in him.