#that kind of thing is not something anyone can plan - much less teenagers

[insipid-drivel]

As an adult child of an abusive psychopathic biological father, Zuko and Azula strongly represent and reflect the 2 primary ways children of malignant narcissists and abusive psychopaths tend to develop without a mother figure that I've both been, and experienced in other survivors.

An important and key aspect to pay attention to is the kind of abuse Ozai inflicted on his children. To be honest, there are moments in ATLA that are almost on the verge of triggering when it comes to the sheer accuracy of Ozai's performance as an abusive, narcissistic, probably-clinically-psychopathic father for me. There's a general playbook these kinds of parents follow, whether knowingly or not, that leads to the destruction of the aspects of their family life that they find threatening or displeasing:

Discredit/remove the possibility of reliance upon the other parent. Ozai does this by having Azula and Zuko's mother executed. In flashbacks, it's shown that their mother was aware of Ozai's growing destructiveness and abusiveness toward their children. Instead of falling under Ozai's sway and doing little to nothing to protect Azula and Zuko from him, their mother works her hardest to undo and reteach the dangerous and toxic values and habits that Ozai wants Azula and Zuko to grow up with. Killing their mother took away their only line of defense against him. The trauma and grief of losing their mother is essentially the first major crack Ozai makes in their respective psyches and personalities where he can influence and manipulate them later.

Choosing a "Favorite" child and negatively comparing any other siblings to the favorite. For abusive parents like Ozai, his natural narcissistic traits made Azula the obvious favorite for him to manipulate and fixate on. Azula demonstrates more character traits (neither positive nor negative; simply similarities) to Ozai, as well as resembles him physically more than Zuko does. Narcissistic and abusive parents almost always focus on the child that resembles them in the most favorable light, and then that child has the burden of perpetually meeting the abusive parent's increasingly unattainable standards. This keeps the "favored" child from rebelling against the abuser, and can even result in the "favored" child assisting in abusing their less-"favored" siblings. The enforced schism between siblings is another foothold Ozai uses to manipulate Azula and humiliate Zuko.

"I won't admit that I'm inadequate at this, but you're going to be a genius at it. Or else." It's obvious from the first time Azula and Ozai are respectively seen in serious combat that Azula outmatches her father in skill and talent, while Zuko's martial skills and predilections are much more oriented toward manual combat (See: The Blue Spirit arc). On his own, Zuko is phenomenal as a swordsman and martial artist, but he's never shown taking any real pride in it compared to Sokka, for example. Zuko's deepest insecurity is his firebending, while Azula's greatest strength is firebending. Zuko reflects Ozai's sense of inadequacy as a firebender and reminds him of his shortcomings. Because Ozai can live vicariously through Azula's successes and reputation, Azula is only praised for her skills. In essence, Ozai's a mediocre firebender and martial artist, but cares more about the firebending, and therefore Azula.

Abuse and manipulation culminating into neglect. Zuko's personality is much more derived from the merits of his mother more than Ozai. He tries to be like Ozai, and to be everything he thinks Ozai wants him to be, but that's the Catch 22 in their relationship. Ozai knows Zuko will never measure up to his standards for his children, but tolerated Zuko so long as he fell in line and remained obedient to Ozai's worldviews. In the pivotal scene before the Agni Kai where Zuko's face is scarred, Zuko makes a hill-I'm-willing-to-die-on stance against Ozai with regards to the actions and future of the Fire Nation. In Ozai's mind, the Fire Nation belongs to him like it's his most valuable possession (note that he doesn't actually show any real care for the people of his nation; only its ability to dominate others, which further reflects Ozai's personality). Because Zuko didn't back down from challenging Ozai over the major aspect to his character that gives him a sense of power and control, Ozai had enough and snapped. The abuse evolved into a violent, public outburst that left Zuko disfigured, and then Zuko was banished. This is the moment where Ozai's abuse turns into abject neglect, and it's because he's had enough of Zuko resisting him as a parent and being too much like his mother.

Under just those 4 steps in the Abusive Parent Handbook (there are plenty of other steps lol), you have the makings of chronically dysfunctional and deeply damaged adults. Azula's obsession with being the next Firelord is one that was drilled into her by Ozai as the foundation of her personality. With narcissistic parents, it's not about raising children out of love, but ambition.

Azula clearly discovered from her earliest years that appeasing Ozai would simultaneously tame the severity of his parenting and earn her a sense of self-esteem. Ozai, as a father, does nothing but undermine and set out to destroy the self-esteem of everyone around him, but particularly his children. Zuko eventually realizes the futility in trying to be the image of the son he thought Ozai wanted thanks to Iroh's influence and interacting with the Gaang.

Azula is chronically and consistently cut off from meeting or interacting with anyone that could bring her to question the life path she's been set on by her father. Ty Lee and Mei are really her only friends, who themselves have similarly tailored and needle-thin world views, and their friendship is primarily due to their parents' relationships at the Fire Nation royal court. Azula's advisors are on Ozai's payroll, so neither of them are going to be reliable maternal figures for her. Azula is trapped in a toxic biome tended and edited exclusively by Ozai and those he trusts to extend his manipulation regardless of where Azula goes, and Azula simultaneously copes with her grief over the loss of her mother by buying into Ozai's presentation of her: As a traitor that deserved to die. It's the only perception of her mother Azula can accept that won't simultaneously destroy her on a fundamental, psychological level.

But we see that later, when Ozai begins unraveling as his attempts to stop Aang and conquer the world result in failure after failure. He takes the pressure out on Azula, who's a better firebender than Ozai, and Ozai knows it. When Azula can't stop the Gaang at the 11th hour, Ozai's real feelings for Azula are revealed when he abandons her. Ozai built her up by telling her that, since the world would soon be under Fire Nation rule, he would become Emperor, and abdicate his title as Firelord to Azula.

Then he commands her to do something impossible - which he probably knows is impossible - in order for her to earn that final reward and cement what Azula's warped perception of paternal love is in her mind. When she fails, and realizes it, she doesn't just become hysterical.

She has a psychotic break.

She's just a 14-year-old girl, and as she's thrashing against the chains the Gaang hastily get her in, she's having a fucking psychotic break. One her own father planted the seed for too early for her to know it was growing. Her entire identity, like the ice that ultimately defeats her, is shattered. Every value and belief she has for herself is dashed against the rocks, and her father doesn't care. He isn't even there.

She was just a 14-year-old girl.

Sorry but I don't trust you if you think Azula was evil.

She was a fucking 14 year old girl and you lack literary comprehension if you think the narrative condemned her forever by the end. You're not supposed to be gloating over her crying and screaming desperately on the ground, knowing that no one loves her and she's lost everyone who might've even slightly cared about her.

I don't trust you if you spend your time arguing with people over whether or not she's a psychopath.

Yes she's a villain. Yes, she's done bad things. Really bad things.

But she was also a teenager who was warped by her father's abuse just as much as Zuko.

I once read a great comment about her that really summed up how I feel about the abuse of Ozai's children.

The only difference between them was that Azula had scars from their father that you cannot see.

Which is true, but you do see it by the end.

I don't know how anyone could watch Azula's breakdown and think this 14 year old is a bitch.

Not unless you're a misogynist and an idiot.

Also like wtf, look at Zuko and Katara's fucking faces.

They're our protagonists. They are OUR stand ins. They are looking on her with pity, not anger or pride or happiness. The music isn't triumphant. It's hollow and sad.

No.

I don't trust anyone who says Azula is just evil and was destined to be bad. I don't like people who say she was a psychopath from the start.

This isn't fucking bnha.

You don't have the right to enter my home!! You are rancid.

You are untrustworthy.

[fratttymatty]

Roots Changed

(All characters are 18+)

Ryan Thornton had always been the quiet, bookish kid. At 18, he was still the same shy, nerdy teenager who spent most of his time buried in science fiction novels, comic books, and the occasional video game. Ryan had come to terms with his place in life: an outsider in high school, an openly gay teen with few friends and even fewer social opportunities. His world was small but comfortable, a safe little bubble in the predominantly white suburb of San Diego where he’d lived his whole life.

But when his mom got a new job and the family moved across the city to a much more diverse, predominantly Latino neighborhood, Ryan didn’t know what to expect. The change was jarring. The new school was like nothing he’d known — crowded, full of energy, and with a culture that felt loud and foreign. The kids here were different, the language they spoke, the way they dressed, the confidence they carried — it was all so much more alive than what Ryan was used to.

In the first few days, Ryan stayed under the radar. He was determined to finish high school without any drama, just getting through the final year before heading to college. But that plan quickly unraveled when a group of the popular kids — the jocks and cheerleaders — took notice of him.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. He tried to keep his head down, but he couldn’t ignore the whispers in the halls, the way people looked at him — the way they sized him up. His pale skin, messy blond hair, awkward stance — all of it screamed “outsider.” It didn’t help that Ryan was the only openly gay kid in the school, and he often felt like an alien in the sea of confident, straight students.

One afternoon, during lunch, the inevitable happened. He was sitting alone at a table when Luis, the captain of the football team, and Sofia, the head cheerleader, approached him with their usual entourage. They towered over him, their presence intimidating, but Ryan couldn’t find the words to excuse himself.

Luis looked down at him, a smug grin on his face. “Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You don’t really fit in here, huh?” Sofia’s voice wasn’t unkind, but it was sharp. She appraised him like a project. “You’re a little too... quiet for this place. Too nerdy.”

Ryan felt his face flush. He had been used to this kind of thing before, but not quite like this. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting to disappear.

Luis smirked. “Well, we can help with that. Make you more... like us.” He exchanged a quick glance with Sofia, who gave a small nod.

“I don’t really—” Ryan began to protest, but before he could finish his sentence, they grabbed him by the arms. He struggled, but the group was too strong. Their laughter was loud and mocking, echoing in his ears as they pulled him away from the lunch table, past the curious eyes of the other students, and out to the school parking lot.

“What the hell is going on?” Ryan managed to say, panic setting in as they shoved him into the back of a van.

“We’re gonna make you one of us, gringo,” Luis said, the edge to his voice unmistakable.

Ryan’s heart pounded as the van started moving. “What are you doing? Let me out of here!” But the more he shouted, the less anyone seemed to care. They ignored him, speaking in rapid Spanish, laughing, joking, as if they’d done this before.

The van came to a stop in a neighborhood unfamiliar to Ryan, and they led him into a house that felt more like a base of operations than a home. An older man with tattoos covering his arms stood waiting for them, his expression serious, as though this was just another job.

“Sit,” the man said, gesturing toward a chair in the middle of the room. “We’ve got work to do.”

Ryan’s heart raced in his chest, but he was powerless to fight back. They tied him down, but it wasn’t painful; it was more like they were preparing him for something. The man — who spoke little — went to work, using strange tools and substances on him, altering his appearance in ways that made Ryan’s head spin. His skin, once pale and freckled, slowly darkened, turning a rich olive tone. His features shifted subtly — his jawline more defined, his nose more pronounced. But it wasn’t just his skin that changed.

The most dramatic transformation happened to his hair. Ryan’s once-messy, light brown curls were smoothed out, darkening into a deep, glossy brown. They styled it into a perfectly straight, sharp middle part. It was perfect, almost too perfect. His hair, which had always been unruly, now lay in neat, controlled waves on either side of his head, framing his face in a way that made him look... different.

When the process was finished, they released him from the chair, and Ryan was led to a mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. The face was familiar, but the features were sharper, darker. His hair — sleek and controlled — was no longer his own. The new, confident posture, the athletic build, the deep brown eyes looking back at him — it was like he was staring at someone else.

Luis stood behind him, clapping him on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the team, hermano,” he said, his voice low and proud.

Ryan — or whatever was left of him — looked at himself in the mirror. The old Ryan Thornton was gone, replaced by someone else. Someone new. Someone who looked like he could be a football player. Someone who looked like he belonged here, in this world.

Luis wasn’t finished. “You’re Mateo Hernandez now. We’re not calling you Ryan anymore. You’re one of us, hermano.”

Mateo Hernandez. The name felt strange at first, foreign even, but when he said it aloud, it felt right, like it had always been his. Mateo felt stronger, more confident. He felt like someone who had a place in the world — a world where people like him didn’t get pushed around, a world where his old self didn’t matter.

Over the next few days, Mateo settled into his new life with surprising ease. His old identity, his old life as Ryan Thornton, began to fade. The change was too thorough. The way he spoke was different now. His accent was smoother, more natural, the slang coming to him effortlessly. His new friends, the jocks, the cheerleaders, they accepted him without hesitation. He was one of them now, and they treated him like family.

It didn’t take long before Mateo found himself walking the halls of his new high school with the same confident swagger as Luis or any of the other jocks. He laughed, joked, and participated in everything — the football games, the parties, the casual flirting with the girls in his classes. It all felt so easy, so right. The old Mateo, the quiet, awkward kid who once spent his days hiding in the library, was gone.

Mateo Hernandez was a high school jock. He was strong, he was popular, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t feel like he was pretending. He was who he was supposed to be.

And as for Ryan Thornton?

Well, Mateo didn’t even remember who that was anymore.

Mateo Hernandez had found his place. And he wouldn’t change it for anything.

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (II) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Getting acquainted with Regulus was inevitable, but your relationship only continues to grow as you figure out a way for your friendship to outlast the closing summer break.

Part I / Part III / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Harry's arrival. Regulus is warming up to Y/N. Little cliffhanger at the end.

It was an ingenious idea.

"That is certainly an idea."

Regulus was very much trying to be supportive of your plans, but you could see the veiled apprehension in his gaze.

Over the summer, you were able to bond with him over the traumas of your life. You were proudly on day 34 of friendship.

In a way, he had become your closest acquaintance in the absence of Harry.

Regulus was endlessly fascinated by Harry when you had explained the lore of the poor boy's life. You would pay a good sum of your inheritance to see the gobsmacked look on his face again after you told him Harry was famous for surviving the Killing Curse.

"Calm your horses, Reg. It will be fine. I wouldn't risk such a thing if I weren't confident."

"Oh, it's not your confidence I doubt," his curls bounced ever so slightly as he shook his head, "I'm just hoping that you aren't in over your head here."

"It will be fine. I have this thing where I am averse to killing friends."

"Friends?-"

Before Regulus could finish, you whipped out your wand and murmured a firm reducio.

His painting gave the faintest quake before quickly shrinking on the floor.

"Reg? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Everything is just humongous now. But I'm no more cramped than I was before."

You pick up the small frame, brushing your thumb over the gold edge. Regulus‘ painting was now quaint enough to fit in the palm of your hand, his shrunken figure gazing up at you in relief.

"See, I told you. Everything's fine. Now I can take you with me everywhere I go."

His eyes glimmer in pleasure at the prospect of actually be able to see the outside world.

"I concede, you were right. However, in the event that you die, what will happen to me? Merlin forbid they bury me with you."

Regulus made it a point to bring up your almost imminent demise at every chance he could, strongly disapproving of your close association with the Dark Lord's current greatest adversary.

It was funny to think the greatest threat to the Dark Lord's reign was a group of teenagers struggling in Arithmancy.

"Don't worry, I'll look up some kind of rune to transport you to a safe place in the event that I am slaughtered. Though, you should have more faith in me, Harry and I have managed to survive a lot of unimaginable things."

"None of which even scratch the surface of the Dark Lord's power."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm less concerned about the Dark Lord and more concerned about the Ministry. They're completely defaming Harry and I have half the mind to march on in to Fudge's office and slap him."

Regulus let out a noise of amusement and you began to fiddle with your wand in contemplation.

"Hey Reg, do you know anything that could allow you to communicate with me without giving away your whole predicament? I think I'll be shipped off on the first carriage to St. Mungo's if someone catches me talking to myself."

You were hesitant to tell anyone about your summer discovery, but Regulus was vehemently against it. He told you that telling others of his existence would only give him a headache, and you had a creeping suspicion he wasn't on the best of terms with the Dark Lord and his followers or his brother.

"There might be something in my room. I was researching various concealment charms before I died. For now, I'll just remain silent until you address me first."

A warm feeling beat at your chest. Regulus had never outright told you, but you knew that he trusted you and even liked you enough to agree to stick around.

It was probably due to your unrelenting honesty and efforts to make it clear that you didn't hate him for his past juvenile decisions.

Though, he was still quite secretive about his past.

"Well, off we go then. And Reg?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." For trusting me and for being my friend.

"Think nothing of it."

Brushing Reg's frame one last time, you slip the small item into a wide pocket inside your jacket.

You huff out a heavy sigh and make your way out of the room, slowly cracking the door open. As you peered out into the hall, you let relief wash over you as you realized the coast was clear.

Slowly shutting the door behind you, letting it warp and disappear, you bound down the staircase and towards the end of the hall on the second floor.

You stopped a few paces away from your destination, taking in the sight of the worn door. It felt almost like you were about to cross the threshold into somewhere sacred.

"Y/N! There you are, we've been looking for you! What are you doing?" You curse silently under your breath, spinning on your heel and away from Regulus‘ bedroom door.

Hermione and Ron were looking at you expectantly, confusion flitting in their eyes at your recent reclusiveness and secrecy.

"I was just exploring."

"Near that door?" Ron's voice was coated in a mixture of disbelief and pride, approving of your sudden mischievous nature.

"Yeah, I mean I've always liked a good mystery. Though...keep it a secret for me? I don't want to sit through Sirius‘ lecturing."

This time it was Hermione who spoke, a sudden glint of excitement sharpening in her gaze, "No matter about that! We heard from the adults that Harry should be arriving soon!"

You broke out into a grin at the news, though your eyebrows began to furrow as you let the information stew in your head.

"Wait. Why now? Did something happen? Dumbledore would never allow it unless something urgent occurred."

Hermione and Ron exchange a serious look and a sinking feeling drags down your middle.

It is not until they drag you into your shared room that you're informed of the news, and you honestly could not be less surprised.

Chaos followed Harry everywhere, and a Dementor attack happened to fall into the ‘shit that only happens to Harry‘ category of life.

Harry arrived less than an hour after you received the news, and you could see the relief flood into his eyes as he realized you were all there waiting for him.

You let Hermione and Ron smother him in their hugs before you're up on your feet and gently patting his back, his face shoved into your shoulder as his whole body sagged.

"I'm glad you're here now, Harry. Dumbledore forbade all methods of communication with you, and he's unfortunately methodical. I tried just about everything to reach you."

The tired boy nods at your explanation, clearly still in shock at the events that unfolded to properly react.

You were beginning to relax against Harry until a sudden pop had you gripping your chest painfully.

The bloody twins and their bloody apparition.

"Fred! George! I swear I'm going to castrate you one of these days!"

You were still quite irked with the twins even after they apologized to you and formulated a plan to make up for the scare.

They thought it would be lightwork to use an extendable ear product of theirs to listen in on the meeting going on in the kitchen downstairs.

"As lovely as that sounds, I have to finish reading up for the summer."

"Blimey, Y/N. Don't tell me you're turning into Hermione."

"Well I think that's great, Y/N. And if you bothered to do what we were doing, Ronald, maybe you wouldn't have to ask for our notes every year."

You quickly flee the scene as the others were distracted, shutting the door quietly and striding towards Regulus‘ room down the hall.

Without hesitating like last time, you hurriedly twist the creaky knob and fling yourself into the room, not giving anyone the opportunity to catch you sneaking around.

"Okay, Reg. We're alone now. Sorry I couldn't leave sooner, I'm sure it was a bore for you."

You fetch the portrait from the inside of your jacket, grinning down at the pretty boy who was looking back at you passively.

"It was quite entertaining. It's better than the usual empty silence I'm used to."

"Right...I'm glad. Well, where do you keep your charms books at?"

"Left trunk underneath the bed. The green one."

You place the small painting down on the tableside next to his bed, propping it up against a dust-coated lamp. You heave the trunk out and let out a small exhale from the effort, nimbly unclasping it and flipping it open.

The sight of rows of books greeted you and you had to hold in a gasp at the wide collection and their near pristine quality.

Advanced Charm Casting

Chadwick's Charms Vol. III

Charms and Their Origins

The Dark Forces: Praesidium Carmina and Spells

"Wow. You have quite the selection. Praesidium Carmina?"

"It's latin for protection charms. There should be a few handy charms in there, but I didn't get to finish it so you'll have to read it thoroughly yourself."

You run a finger down the spine of the book appreciatively, grinning at the boy like a child finding a chest of candy.

"Reg, you are truly amazing."

"You can keep it. You can take all of them if you wish."

Your mouth falls open at his words, a pleased expression falling over your face. Regulus, for the most part, looked unaffected by your touched demeanor, but you could see a self-satisfied smile tug at his lips.

"Are you sure, Reg? These look precious."

"They are. But I have no use for them nor does Sirius. Besides, I can trust that you'll use them well."

"Wow. This is the first gift you've given me. You know this means that our friendship has entered the next level, right?"

Regulus shakes his head in amusement, smiling at your enthusiasm.

"And how would you define this new level of friendship, dear Y/N?"

"Well, we're like a couple secrets away from being best friends. Sorry though, I don't really know how I could give you an actual gift."

Regulus seems to consider this for a few moments, merely opting to shake his head in response.

"Getting me out of that room is already a debt I'm unable to repay."

"I'm glad you said that because now you're really stuck with me forever."

And it could have been the trick of the light, but you swear he didn't look totally bothered by the idea.

After shrinking down Regulus‘ trunk and a small pouch he insisted on you taking as well, you made your way down towards the kitchen, pockets full and feeling satisfied from your mission.

As you entered the kitchen, you stop in your tracks as everyone's attention darts to you.

Isn't that fun.

Suddenly, Sirius stands up and gestures for you to come sit, his mouth set in a firm line instead of his usual playful smirk.

"Y/N, there you are. We need to have a talk."

Relax. There's no way he knows anything.

Was what you would have thought, but Hermione and Ron couldn't quite look you in the eyes. You were superbly fucked.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl

[yuikomorii]

Maturing is realising that Ayato is the Diaboy who shares the most qualities with Yui. 🤭

// I'm pretty sure that was Rejet's intention, haha. This is primarily due to the fact that they are both 0 blood type blueprints.

In Japan, blood type is a way more important indicator of someone’s personality than zodiac signs and if you search the 0 traits, you’ll see that they fit both Ayato and Yui perfectly: energetic, honest, easygoing, strong-willed, reliable and so on. Even the blood type is called 楽観主義 which means “optimism”.

I believe both of them are really mentally strong characters, which is one of the reasons why I love them. Another similarity is that they are both extremely empathetic and forgiving, to the point of appearing uhm… not so healthy anymore. I understand that those qualities are desirable, but there is a thin line between being compassionate or understanding and still trying to maintain good relations with people who who gave you such a hard time (as mentioned here in Ayato’s case).

I feel like the reason why they are so forgiving and empathetic is actually because they don’t want others to feel alone.

It is well known that as Yui grew older, Seiji became increasingly busy, making her spend a significant amount of time alone. Ayato used to play with his brothers until Cordelia tried to make an heir out of him, forcing him to spend his entire childhood alone in a room studying. Even the butler admitted in LE that he treated Ayato differently (in the negative way) than the others due to Cordelia's orders, but he eventually apologized to him.

You can see that throughout the routes there are a lot of times when Yui says "But if you do that, you will be alone…" or "I don't want to leave -inserts name- alone!". Ayato also seems to be like that, as he tells Laito in his LE route that no matter how much he despises him, he will always be there for him because he doesn't want him to struggle alone any longer. The same could be said about Kino's LE route because Ayato is the first person to recognize Kino as his brother because he realized he was Karl's abandoned son and wanted to make him feel like he belonged to the Sakamaki family too.

What I'm trying to say is that, while Ayato and Yui dislike being alone, they're not the "I need you because I'd be alone without you!" type, but rather "I'll be there for you because I don't want you to be alone anymore!" type. In some ways, they are projecting their fears onto others, but in this case, it is simply because they care too much.

They're also the only characters Laito wanted to see suffer because, in his eyes, they are the ultimate good people. The way Yui continued to be kind to him and resist in HDB only made Laito want to break her even more, and he also admitted hating Ayato for being honest and pure-hearted, and mentioned hoping to see him suffer. He did and said such things because he believes that if Cordelia hadn't defiled him, he would have been the same, and this is what hurts him the most.

Something I like so much about Ayato and Yui is how neither of them is afraid to confront or even disagree with Karlheinz; Yui's "I'll be the one to decide my life and future." (DF) and Ayato's "I don't need your powers, I choose my own destiny." (CL) are two of the most powerful phrases ever spoken in Diabolik Lovers because this demonstrates that they will not allow themselves to be controlled by Karlheinz or by anyone. Both of them may be dumb at times, but being badass can take many forms; it isn't just about fighting an enemy or devising elaborate plans.

Last but not least, they both believe in Santa Claus and that’s the cutest thing ever! I mean, if vampires exist in the DL universe, why wouldn’t Santa Claus exist too? xD

I am aware that both Ayato and Yui can be too silly and childish at times, but keep in mind that they are supposed to represent teenagers, so I believe people should be less judgmental here. ^^”

[cebwrites]

T4T (Law)

oc x canon, they/them law word count: 0.6k

Law's gender wasn't something they put a whole lot of thought into growing up; too preoccupied with studying for the next final or plotting Doflamingo's miserable, timely demise to worry about something as trivial as primary or secondary sex characteristics.

It didn't take all long for them to figure out they were gay, though. A handful of rejected love letters underneath a drawer somewhere in Wolf's house and their first sordid relationship going way too fast, left behind on Swallow Island can attest to that.

The masculine form, and men by proxy, has always been appealing to them. Still, it's never been a priority.

Too many things going on in their life, too many voices in their head to quiet. They didn't have time to bother with relationships, even if they slept with one or two guys over the course of three years, it was of no importance in the grand scheme of their master plans, let alone their own gender.

Law let people assume because it was easy, because it was one less thing to worry about, even if there was an itch in the back of their mind they couldn't quite reach whenever anyone called them a man. Complimentary or not, it felt... no, Law didn't need to feel anything. Nothing that wasn't absolutely necessary, anyway.

It's not until a man with eyes, gold and tired like theirs but with an unmistakable glint, blows into Law's life completely unexpectedly and shakes everything up.

Kirin's world weary but despite everything still keeps his heart and trans identity on his sleeve, he kicks the proverbial door down to all those feelings an angsty teenage Law tried to shelve away forever as unimportant, not worth exploration. They're enamored by his confidence, that's what they tell themself at least, but eventually Law comes to the conclusion that they're in love with him.

To hold someone in such high regard, to know that he struggles just as much as they do trying to find the right words, the right phrases, how to be the right kind of person.

It's liberating, in a way.

Pain shared is pain halved.

Kirin is loose with definitions of his sexuality; comfortably under the queer umbrella but he's loud and adamant about his transness. He fought his whole life to be seen as a man and by hell or high water he will be recognized as a trans man.

Law, through a little guidance from their partner and by letting the other trans people in their life in, finds a happy medium between masculine presentation and the absence of a "male" gender. Whatever it is they are isn't a man or a woman, they're a nebulous creature inhabiting this body that's been shown so much love, the least can offer themself is being a little kinder to it.

So they do, by allowing people to care for them first, principle of all - the closest ones on their crew, then their ever adoring partner.

It's an uphill battle trying to fit into their own queerness, old Sunday sermons from Flevance and their grandmother's favorite scriptures haunt the spaces between their eyelids every now and again. But it gets easier the more the share their burdens; Bepo, Pen, and Shachi are more than willing to help shoulder them.

Every time they see him, it's a weight off Law's shoulders; although post-timeskip it's a weight into their arms whenever Kirin happily jumps into them, overjoyed to see his partner once more.

The toils of the Grand Line disappear, the stresses of captaining a submarine - inhaling the scent of salty sea and and Kirin's favorite green apple shampoo, Law finds their peace whenever and wherever it manifests at his side.

[jq37]

.....fuck. Ok, so the simple answer is Cassandra's going Nightmare King. But that "she's at my side once more" thing gives me hope that this is something else and not entirely Kristens fault. Could be the Elf side of Galacaea reacting badly to the Wolf side gaining prominence and she's trying to grab for any piece of her old self to gain a controlling foothold. On the lighter side of things, Kristen believing she's a full-on actual political candidate and trying to give a speech to steel-workers was gut-bustingly hilarious. Less light-hearted, Adaine needs to stop attacking her financial woes as a teenager and start attacking it as a wizard adventurer. And lose the crap job, a 40% discount is not worth those 8 hours she's losing every shift. She can get a lot more done with that time. But she's a kid who's trying to solve this on her own instead of the common sense move of reaching out to adults who know more. Siobhan commits to the bit, I'll give her that. Bizarely, Gorgugs 400% course load is actually is the most solvable problem. Get Digby and Wilma to tutor him and help him speedrun through the Freshman and Sophomore material and then play catch-up on the Junior year material. He might have drop the Owl Bears, he needs those hours. Fig is killing it so hard in all her classes, it would be fucking hilarious if she's the Bad Kid who graduates as valedictorian. This one ran long, sorry about that.

OK, my quick thoughts on everything before I sit down to write this recap tomorrow (I finished my notes today--geez these JY eps are LONG):

Kristen: Wild that the thing Kristen has chosen to go all in on is her high school bid for class president and not *gestures vaguely* literally anything else. Funny, but wild. My best guess until we have more info is that this is an "As above so below" thing because the wizards getting ripped and aggressive is super random except for the fact that the main things that Kristen has been doing in the past few months is getting ripped and being aggressive to Cass. But we're working with incomplete info so we'll see.

Adaine: Girl, take Aelwyn's chest of rubies and sell it for cash and buy stuff with that! Or better yet, use your Oracle/general divination powers to figure out the lotto numbers/stock futures and exploit that! Honestly, even killing your mom is a better plan that working at Fantasy Auntie Anne's!

Gorgug: :( Hang in there buddy. It's wild when everyone else is dealing with kind fantasy problems--even Adaine's thing is tinged with Fantasy what with the absurdity of the items she needs to get--and Gorgug is just dealing with…a completely regular school problem. That's rough man. I personally feel like I'd try to join a club or something to show off my skills rather than doing it on the books if this requires a 400% course load but I hope he can make it work. Though, it would also be interesting for them to do a, "There's no shame in trying and failing," storyline because man that's just so much work and that's an important thing to learn.

Fabian: If you want Adaine to be at your party then give her some of your massive pile of gold so she doesn't have to work a crappy mall job. The girl is filtering gold flecks out of discounted booze and you know that because you're the one who gave her permission to do it. Either help her or don't be sulky when she can't make your shrimp party!

Fig: Fig as surprise valedictorian has the same energy as Annie realizing she and Shirley are neck in neck for the position even though Annie is the type A control freak (this is a Community ref for anyone who's like whomst?). That would be so funny. But also, it wouldn't be crazy! Fig was super preppy before she decided to be punk. I wouldn't be surprised if her grades were always good and she's also passionate about everything she does. If she wasn't set on sticking it to the man, she'd be so so so solid.

Riz: You didn't mention him but I wanted to give him a section anyway. Hi Riz :)

OK, that's it for now. Can't wait for next ep! (And no worries about this ask being long. I like getting long D20 Asks!)

[thevampiremarie]

treehouse, chapter 2 🔞 (also available on ao3)

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader pregnancy fic

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A doctor’s appointment and a dream.

-

i decided to prioritize putting this story up on tumblr after ao3 went down for 2 days. so here's the second chapter! i'd hate for this fic to be permanently lost

So Dream didn’t end up leaving his number. Or social media, or really any way to contact him.

You’d checked the notepad by your door, flipped through page after page on the off chance Dream hid something in the very back.

Nothing.

Except for a doodle - a hastily drawn scribble of a raven. You remember the clever little raven outside of the club the night before. Matthew. Cute.

But he was still gone without a word.

So you moped around your apartment for more than a few weeks, only leaving for groceries and whenever your friend prodded at you to leave and accompany them to a bookstore or Shakespeare in the park.

It’s been a very, very, very long time since you’d even interacted with someone with more than friendship in mind, much less gotten dicked down. A year and some months, if your memory is correct. No matter. You pull your mind away from the specifics of that.

Can anyone blame you for being hung up on someone like Dream?

He’s like your teenage Byronic hero dream on steroids. And sometimes, when you close your eyes, you feel like you’re looking in his eyes again, blazing blue fire even in your memories.

If it weren’t for the hickies lining your skin, the ache between your legs, and that little raven sketch, well. You would’ve thought you dreamed him up.

You historically don’t handle abandonment well, even though you know he did nothing wrong, and you hold no resentment. It’s not his fault you have trauma. So you keep to your room, filling the white noise in your brain with television and music and anything at all to keep yourself from thinking of him.

You’re lonely. You hadn’t realized until he’d lit up your life, just for that one night, but you’re lonely. Aimless. For some reason, that encounter with Dream reminded you of all the hopes and longings you shoved to the side in the interest of survival. Which, at the time, entailed whatever work you could get and a roof over your head. A social life was a secondary concern at best.

Well, you’ve achieved those things now.

But you still feel hollow and empty—a shell of the person you wanted to be ten years ago.

You wanted to be happy. You wanted to be surrounded by a family of your own making, one that loved you as much as you loved them.

Your friend Willow is lovely, but they have their own life, their kids. Not much room for you.

For once, you’d tasted feelings far beyond what you’d allowed yourself to feel for so long. And now, you’re not sure you can go back to an empty house and a life tinted in black and white and grey.

You keep up with your therapy appointments, and your therapist recommends you continue putting yourself out there after such an unexpected social success with your one-night stand. Maybe she’s right; perhaps you should actually just get over your issues with being a part of the world and move on with your life properly.

Unfortunately, your plans to do that today (Willow bothered you over text about some local witch faire they wanted to go to and insisted you come with and maybe make some new friends) are stalled by how shitty you feel when you wake up that morning.

Like, ‘someone hit you with a truck’ kind of feeling shitty.

You’re exhausted, which doesn’t make sense because you slept past your alarms, and your whole body aches. A migraine threatens to black out your vision when you sit up. 

You’ve been taking care of yourself on your own for long enough now that typically you can manage all the things you dislike without help; making doctor’s appointments, waiting in line at the pharmacy. Phone calls suck no matter how often you force yourself to make them.

But you can’t seem to drag yourself out of bed this time.

Thankfully, Willow is thrilled to come over and help you. They text you that it’s about time you reached out and didn’t try to take on the world alone.

When they come to pick you up, you’ve successfully showered and thrown on a clean pair of sweatpants and a random t-shirt. That’s the only thing you feel up to wearing at the moment; your stomach is bloated like it does when you PMS, and these clothes feel like wrapping yourself up in a blanket.

PMS. Hm.

Willow fills you in on their kids’ latest shenanigans, then hands you the travel mug of hot tea their wife packed for you after you’ve buckled in next to them.

You’re late. You hadn’t noticed until today - but you’re about two weeks late. You’d taken your placeholder pills on schedule, per your prescription, but the depressive episode had such a grip on you that you’d completely forgotten about your period.

While Willow waits at a stoplight, you interrupt the stream of questions about your well-being. “I’m late.”

The light turns green. You guys are about ten minutes out from the nearest urgent care that takes your (admittedly shitty) health insurance. “How late?” Willow says evenly, their calm demeanor a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside your mind.

It could be nothing—just stress combined with some sort of bug. Birth control pills mess with your cycle, to begin with; that’s why you must take the placebos.

You try not to focus on the other possibility. You don’t even want to name it - irrationally, you fear that naming that outcome will make it true.

The California sun streams through the car windows. The warmth feels nice on your face, comforting and lulling you into a daze. It’s not a super convenient time to drift off, but you’re sapped of all your strength, your fight.

Willow needs to nudge you to pull you out of your car-ride-induced trance. “Um- two weeks. I think,” You reply. Then you need to repeat yourself; an ambulance driving past with its alarms blaring had blocked out what you said.

Your friend nods without taking their eyes from the road, light catching in their dyed purple hair. “I wouldn’t be worried. We’ll see what the doctor says, okay?”

“Okay.”

You can see the parking lot from here, and Willow turns in to look for a spot. “Finish your tea. You won’t feel any better if you’re dehydrated.” Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room - that the nurse will almost certainly order a pregnancy test.

You drain the carafe. The peppermint and honey settle your stomach and gives you enough energy to get out of the car and face urgent care. Ugh. You despise going to the doctor.

It’s not the nurse’s fault this sucks. You feel bad that you can’t muster more enthusiasm to answer her fairly-standard questions, but the fluorescent overhead lights kick your migraine into high gear.

“When was the date of your last period?”

You explain the situation; that you’re late, but you’re on the pill, and you’ve been stressed out recently, so sometimes these things just happen.

To her credit, she has a wonderful bedside manner and doesn’t blink twice. “That’s fine. We’ll get you checked out. I’ll have to ask you to provide a urine sample for me after I’m done taking down all your information if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, I can.” You fiddle with the torn edge of the paper they’ve laid out on the exam chair to focus on your breathing. Maybe you should ask for Ibuprofen or something for your headache. But it might fuck up your blood pressure or something, and then you’d have to come back. Nope. Absolutely not.

“And I assume you’ve recently been intimate with at least one male sexual partner? Did you use any other forms of contraception, and would you like us to run a full STD panel?” She’s doing her best not to sound judgmental, and you know she isn’t, but the questions still sound rude. The nurse is doing her job, you tell yourself. She needs to pry.

You sigh. “Just the one, yeah. And we were only… intimate once. Almost four weeks ago. I haven’t done anything like that in over a year, and nothing else since. We kind of, you know, forgot about other forms of contraception? We thought the pill would be enough. And a full panel would be wonderful, thank you.” You’ve learned your lesson about letting your hormones lead you astray; if there’s ever a repeat hookup like this, which you highly doubt, you will most certainly be getting a condom involved—and negotiating the encounter beforehand.

You might have been more cautious with someone else, more level-headed, but Dream had made you wild and carefree. And desired, worthy. Seen.

It was an intoxicating combination. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you’re sure you won’t meet anyone like him again.

“Alright, not a problem. Are you on any medications?”

You clear your throat before continuing. “A few. For my… mental health. Um, Lamictal, Seroquel, Prozac…”

After making her last notes on her iPad, the nurse moves to one of the cupboards to pull out a clear container. “Got it. Alright, I need you to go to the bathroom down the hall…”

And with all of those tasks done, you wait.

You can hear things happening outside the examination room. Beeping, hushed whispers, footsteps on squeaky clean linoleum. Maybe they’ve forgotten about you here. Even when you close your eyes, you can’t block out the white lights reflecting off the equally white walls, blinding you even when you try to imagine that you’re literally anywhere else.

Your stomach roils, nausea knotting up your insides. Even your joints are protesting you being outside of your bed right now. God, you feel like shit.

A tall woman walks in, cloaked in neatly-pressed scrubs. She looks friendly, too, and her demeanor takes the edge off your anxiety. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Chang, the doctor on staff today. I’ll be taking a look at you if that’s alright. I’m sorry to hear that you haven’t been feeling well.”

She checks all the things you expect her to. Her stethoscope is chilly on your skin as she listens to your heart, and it sends a shiver through you. Then she checks your throat and feels your stomach. “I agree; this does appear just to be some bloating. I recommend you try some ginger tea when you get home.”

Before she can continue, the nurse from before knocks and lets herself in, handing over a paper printout with some whispered words.

“So we just received the results of your pregnancy test, and it came back positive. Congratulations. I believe four weeks along, per the date of your last period.”

Your hands press up against your stomach. You’re pregnant. Actually pregnant. There’s nothing you can feel, not yet, but the world seems to have shifted in the blink of an eye. Everything- everything is different. “Oh.”

For a moment, you just sit there in shock, completely silent and trying to wrap your head around the news. There’s a fetus growing inside of you right now, as you think of it. Before you do anything else, you quickly shoot Willow a text and set your phone to silent, knuckles white as you clench it. Almost hard enough to break the case protector, you remind yourself. You have to be careful, especially as you can’t afford to replace it right now. So you slowly relinquish your death grip. With effort.

The doctor pauses, waiting to see if you say anything else. When she realizes you’re still listening, just unable to put together coherent words, she nods and continues. “From what I understand, you aren’t currently in a relationship with the father?”

Dream. If only that asshole had left his number like he said he would.

This is all too much, too soon. Like, fuck, you still can’t believe your suspicions were right. Maybe you manifested this or some shit. Ugh.

But you can’t linger on that any further, not when you have to figure out what to do next.

There’s no sense in raging against the inevitable. You’ll be alone in this, no matter how much you wish you weren’t. So you put him out of your mind. He’s gone. “No, no, I’m not. I have no way of getting in contact with him. So he won’t be a factor in any of this.” Practicality wins your internal struggle between what priorities should be in which order.

Whatever decision you make next will be for no one but yourself. If Dream wanted a say in it, perhaps he should’ve stuck around.

It is what it is. For now, you put him away in your head. You can revisit your spite, bitterness, and panic when you’re not in public.

“Well, alright. If that’s the case, then you have two options. You can continue with the pregnancy, in which case you need to schedule an ultrasound in a month with an obstetrician, we can provide a reference if you need one, or if you’d like, you can terminate the pregnancy.”

“Terminate?”

The doctor nods. “Yes, you are early enough in gestation that we would be able to prescribe a medical abortion if you chose to terminate the pregnancy.” Her tone remains clinical and nonjudgmental. You can tell she’ll back whatever choice you settle on. You appreciate that.

You’d always wanted a family of your own. Babies of your own. This isn’t exactly what you intended when you first made that dream years ago as a small child. You dreamed of pouring all the love you never received into someone else, someone innocent and unmarked by the world. Someone you could protect and cherish.

A little one of your own, to love you and to make you proud.

Being a young single mother is hard. And if you fuck up, you’re not the one who will pay for it. They will—your baby.

You’ve begun already to think of the fetus as your baby. Damn it.

You look up at her for the first time since the doctor told you the test results. “Thank you for giving me that option. And if I decided to go through with the pregnancy? Are the ultrasound and the OBGYN  everything?”

It will be hard. Your job is barely enough to pay rent on your shitty one-room apartment and fill your fridge, much less pay for what looks to be at least another eight months of prenatal care. Baby clothes. Toys, books. College. And you’ll have to take time off to actually have the baby.

It will be so fucking difficult.

But Dream reminded you, though unintentionally on his part, that you never wanted to be stuck like this, alone and numb inside for the rest of your life. You feel a little bit of gratitude welling up between the cracks of your fear. Perhaps you’ve been waiting your whole life for a chance like this. To finally try your hand at being happy.

You hope the baby looks like him, even if the resemblance is slight.

Dream was so beautiful. Almost inhuman. And kind. Kind to you, who needed it desperately. The baby would do a lot better with his genetics instead of yours.

Maybe you’ll try to find him. You’d hire a private investigator if you had the money, which you most certainly do not, but you want to see him again. At least to tell him about the baby. No expectations for him to be involved; you won’t be beholden to any man who doesn’t want you, but at the very least, you want to look in his eyes one more time.

He’s haunting you. It’s more than a little pathetic of you, longing for a pretty stranger. But you miss him.

“Uh, no, unfortunately, there’s a little bit more to it. If you carry the pregnancy to term, you will have to come off all the medications you have listed here. Ideally, as soon as possible - you should make an appointment with your prescriber to begin a taper.”

“All of them?” You ask hesitantly.

“Yes. All of what you have listed below can increase the risk of birth defects and complications, and the Prozac, if continued through your third trimester, can result in your baby being born with neonatal abstinence syndrome, or what is better known as neonatal withdrawal.”

You haven’t been off those medications in a year and a half. They’ve kept you stable and functional. Safe. “I see.” You don’t like the person you remember being before you started taking them. That person was a terror to others and to yourself. It’s a good balance of mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, antidepressants. You need them.

But they could hurt the baby.

Withdrawal sucks, majorly, so you’ve heard. It’s not something you want to undergo for at least another few years; when you have a better job and maybe someone else to see you through it.

But you don’t have another option if you want this child. You’ll have to do it alone, and broke, and vulnerable.

You almost start crying in the examination room, but you wipe away the tears before they fall. Good. It would be so humiliating to break down in front of this stranger.

You can’t go back to the way you were before the medication, the therapy. You wouldn’t survive that. And you have a duty to be a good mother, beyond just the mechanics of having the kid. Good mothers don’t make their children suffer for their issues.

Your mind wanders back to Dream, regardless of your efforts to put him aside. You have to keep telling yourself that you know literally nothing about him. You don’t know his last name or his favorite color. But it sure would be nice if he was here with you now.

No. This is for you.

“You don’t have to make a decision today. I just wanted to provide you with all the information you need to choose. You still have time, so let us know whatever we can do to support you. Do you have any questions?”

Your voice rings out clear and strong when you answer her. “No, no. It’s okay. I’ve made my choice. I’m going to keep the baby.”

You can do it. This is something good and pure and worth fighting for.

You promise yourself that you’ll survive this. And you don’t need him. You’ve survived worse - and while you don’t believe in any gods or spirits, you’d like to see even them try and stop you.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”

“…yes. I am.”

You leave with a referral for an obstetrician appointment in a month and an armful of different leaflets of various things the urgent care wants you to know.

You didn’t tell Willow of your decision, but they take one look at your face as you get in the car, and they know. “You’re keeping the baby.”

You shouldn’t be nervous telling them - this is your best friend, the closest thing you have to family. “Yes.”

They smile, bright and proud. “Well, I always hoped you’d make Diana and I aunties one day.”

Willow promises to be there through your pregnancy and after. But they remind you not to be so proud, to not wait for things to get dire before asking for help. “We’ve always considered you one of us, but we can’t support you if you don’t tell us you need supporting.”

And for the first time, you plan to follow through on your promise to reach out. Things are looking up, and you feel hope unfurling in you, hesitant and paper-thin.

You lock your front door behind you tightly, checking once, then twice to ensure it’s secure. You’re alone, just like before. But not truly alone anymore.

It will be some time before the baby shows up on an ultrasound, and you remember the doctor telling you that the first trimester is particularly vulnerable and miscarriages are frequent. That would ruin you. You close your eyes, and you hope against hope that the little one will make it through.

And now that you’re barefoot on your old living room carpet, all the feelings you’ve been holding down come out. You sob and scream yourself hoarse, hot tears tracking down your cheeks.

You’re not sure who you’re crying for; yourself, or your baby who won’t get to have a father, or for the possibility that even if Dream knew, he would still walk away. Or worse.

You want more than anything to tell him.

Weeping is more exhausting than it seems. After you stop sniffling so loudly, you stumble into your room and quickly peel off your clothes. The nest of blankets on your mattress seems to be the optimal place to tuck yourself into, dark and soft and warm.

Sleep drags you under fast.

Full-on dreams, like this one, are rare for you. Especially ones where you find any consciousness at all. Some people are just like that; dreamless. If you’ve ever been plagued with nightmares, you never remember them.

The world around you is grey and misty. You can feel fog dampening your skin and clinging to your hair as you turn in search of a horizon. Nothing. Just an expanse of clouded sky with no end or beginning.

For the first time since you tumbled into this vision, you notice the ground beneath you. Or maybe the ground didn’t truly exist until you realized it was there. It’s solid, bits of fresh grass and stubborn weed growing together out of dark, rich soil, their brilliant green leaves bursting with dew.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen that shade of green, so full of life that you wish you could carry it with you wherever you go. Since you moved to the city, all you see now are brown, sun-baked palm trees and dead front lawns.

You feel the urge to open your hands, and when you do, sprigs of young dandelion blossoms lie in the center of your palms. Their bright, cheery yellow blooms are surreal, stolen from an Impressionist painting and plopped right in the middle of a Realist landscape.

This is a good dream. You’d happily spend the rest of the night here curled up on the earth, cushioned by young clovers as the sweet smell of wild violets washes you clean.

Admittedly, it could be better.

“You called out for me.” You turn at the sound of his voice. Dream, in the distance. Of course.

He looks more real than anything else in this place, including you, and simultaneously out of focus. Try as you might, you can’t concentrate on him enough to see him as you would in real life. He belongs here, and you don’t.

You blink, and suddenly he stands before you in the same outfit, of course; tall and proud in the dream your mind built out of memories.

You know he’s a person just like you, but Dream barely looks human here. That’s the way dreams are about other people, you think. Always a reflection of your perception and never objective.

Here his skin is pale as bone, with what looks like the North Star itself split into two and set in the hollows of his eye sockets. Dream’s mouth remains stained red, and this isn’t the time to think about him like that, to picture biting down on his flushed mouth until you draw real blood.

But this is your dream, so if you think about it, you should be able to do as you please.

His hair remains messy. Even your sleepy mind gets that correct, and you admit he looks perfect this way. Terrifying. And perfect.

It takes you a second to decide that he most closely resembles what you think a god should look like - powerful and commanding in every facet of his being. Even the way his brow furrows when you fail to answer his question is intimidating.

You have a healthy sense of self-preservation, though you ignore it most of the time. And that instinct kicks in suddenly; people on the Internet call it ‘uncanny valley.’ Dream is strange, unknown, and those qualities make you want to turn and run. But you don’t - this is your dream painted by your mind. “Hello.”

His face is more expressive in the real world. Hell, one of those statues you compared him to would emote more than he does in your dream. “You called for me.” You can hear an odd, alien tone in his voice, an out-of-place harmony.

“You didn’t leave a number behind.”

“What is it that you want?” Dream’s mouth is a furious line that grows more menacing the longer you go without saying anything. He seems about ready to unhinge his jaw or something. It shouldn’t be hot. It shouldn’t.

It is.

Of course, the version of him that lives in your imagination jumps straight to the point.

You laugh, the sound bubbling up inside of you. It spills out, loud against the silence enveloping the two of you. With it spills all your anxiety and that animal hindbrain caution. Fuck it. “Well, since I probably won’t ever find you in the real world and I’m just talking to a figment of my subconscious, it doesn’t matter. Maybe it will feel good to tell you here, though it won’t do much. I’m fucking talking to myself.” He watches you closely like you’re a threat. “I’m pregnant.”

Shock looks so out of place on his regal countenance, usually as implacable as the deep ocean. It’s comical. “You’re…”

Now, you know he heard you the first time, but you’re in the mood to be annoying. It’s not like he can do anything about it. “Pregnant. Yeah. With a fetus. A baby. Your baby. There hasn’t been anyone else, and no one since. I know it’s yours. And you’re part of my dream, so you should know that too.” The ground below your feet rumbles, and you almost lose your footing. Thankfully, you avoid faceplanting in the grass without too much flailing. Weird. When you look around, the fog seems alive, pulsing and swirling through the air in a fury. Almost like sand.

Then everything settles as if nothing happened. “I see,” He says. And the starlight in Dream’s eyes dims until he looks precisely like he did when you first met. A human, just like you. You hold back the urge to step closer and run your fingers along the arch of his cheekbone, to inhale and fill your lungs with the salt and smoke and warmth of his scent. He’s so pretty that it seems unfair. You still want him. Maybe it was a good thing he left without a word - it would be so easy to wrap your mind, life, and heart around a man like Dream.

You don’t move closer.

All it takes is a split second for your fears to roar back to life. Your dream responds in kind, conjuring up menacing, shapeless forms. Nightmares. “I’m going to keep the baby. If I see you again, you don’t need to be involved, if you don’t want. I won’t ask for child support or anything; you could be part of our child’s life. But I’m going to keep them. I’m just afraid you’d take it badly or that you’d try to take them from me. I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I must.”

You can be realistic; you likely would lose a custody battle if he decided to fuck with you. Dream’s clothes seemed ridiculously high quality and expensive, and you remember how power trailed in his shadow where he walked. You have none of that.

But you’d give the fight your all.

Your mind gives you a break and doesn’t make you get into it with him in your sleep. Your dream stays sweet and easy as one of his hands gestures towards the shadows. The nightmares flee before you realize they’re gone. “Do you wish for me to be involved?”

You still don’t fully know your answer to that.

You want what’s best for the baby. That became your priority the moment you decided to go through with the pregnancy.

“I mean. Yeah. Probably. Again, only if you want, in whatever capacity you want. I’m not exactly set up to be a single parent. But you’re me, so you should already know that. I don’t need to explain further. I won’t force you to do anything, though. This is my choice. You can’t make me change my mind.”

In your dream, he hesitates, then looks you over. “And that is all you wish? Truly?” He asks, his resonant voice echoing in your ears, overlapped with the sound of wings fluttering and the hiss of sand in the wind.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah.”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up alone. It’s tomorrow; you must’ve slept straight through yesterday after getting back from urgent care. You can’t remember what you dreamed about. Hopefully, it was something good.

-

friendly reminder that this does also exist on ao3 if you'd like to read ahead! you can find it here.

thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

[panlight]

Do Claire’s parents know about the secret?

I THOUGHT SM had some explanation about this that I had read somewhere, either in the guide or on the Lexicon or something, but I can't find it (if this sounds familiar to anyone and you know where it is, please let me know!)

The Guide certainly implies 'no,' in that it says that even the Pack were kind of horrified by the imprint at first and only after seeing it through Quil's mind could they come around to the idea of how 'pure' and 'platonic' it was. But they recognized it would look "depraved" to outsiders and tried to keep it as much of a secret as possible, and Quil just has to be content with Claire being safe and happy.

But I could have sworn I read somewhere that it was sort of explained to her parents in some way??? But maybe that was in a fanfic, idk.

Emily obviously knows, and I guess she's the one who facilitates her niece/cousin coming over to visit so Quil can see her. I'm not sure how much Claire's parents understand about Quil's place in Claire's life at all but then again in Breaking Dawn Quil mentions being at Claire's birthday party which would have had to have been with her parents blessing and how do you explain this teenage boy from a neighboring tribe being invited to a toddler's birthday party?

What kills me about all this is that, in retrospect, this was clearly to foreshadow Jacob/Nessie. When people asked SM about Quil/Claire after Eclipse she's just laugh and be like "lol it's it so funny, it's just to show how random imprinting can be!" but like, no, it was so you could set up Jake/Nessie (which again had been the game plan all along, before New Moon and Eclipse were even a thing!). In the original Twilight/Forever Dawn sequence, Quil probably didn't suffer the indignity of imprinting on a toddler and devoting himself to being the bestest babysitter ever. SM said that in Forever Dawn many of the wolves didn't even have names. So he probably didn't imprint. But with the breathing room New Moon and Eclipse added, she could expand the imprinting idea in order to try and make Jacob/Nessie look less weird.

Don't think it worked.

I really think in her head it's this lovely idea of like two souls who chose each other even before they were born recognizing one another and it's not about sex or romance but this higher plane of love yada yada but you get children involved and it's just impossible not to be skeeved out by it, no matter how many times she and the characters try to explain how sweet and innocent it all is.

[zachdefense]

Been bouncing around a bunch of thoughts about the thematic significance of Parahumans future-sight vs Otherverse future-sight

Worm/Ward/Pale spoilers below

How they work

In Parahumans, the characters that can predict the future tend to have non-deterministic powers, meaning that the future is not set in stone. Their reactions to learning about what's going to happen can change the future in one way or another. This is most clearly exemplified in Worm arc 7, where Dinah's odds for "Will all the Undersiders return" keep changing because Coil's treatment of her in asking the questions make it less and less likely that all the Undersiders will want to keep working for him. What's more is that the precogs will often have blindspots around each other. Even the most powerful precog, the Simurgh, is shown during her Ward interlude to not be able to fully predict things around other people using precognitive powers. The precognitive powers in Parahumans are basically simulations, plugging in "If everything else in the world keeps going as it is but I do X, Y will happen". That's why the precogs don't work around each other, because they have to simulate another person simulating what they're doing and reacting to it, and themselves simulating the other person and reacting to that, so on into infinity. And their powers just short out.

The Otherverse, however, uses deterministic future-sight. Jen Belanger states in Pale 20.8:

"...the sweet point an augur often likes to aim for is one that’s vague. Too narrow and you only see the future, often made unkind by spirits, and you can’t easily avoid what comes. Too open and you spend power to learn next to nothing.”

Basically, learning the future sets it in stone. Augurs in Pale don't like to be too specific when looking into the future because they can get locked into a bad outcome. So, they go vague when looking into the future, trying to be specific enough to see "This place is dangerous in the near future" but not so specific that they see "I will get my head cut off here tomorrow". That works in-universe because the spirits showing them the future are also controlling the fabric of magic and fate. So if they show you something, they will make sure it happens just as they showed you. They aren't liars

Why it's cool (aka thematically resonant)

I'm sure anyone who's read any Worm analysis is tired of hearing that Worm Is About Trauma, but more specifically to the point I'm making, Worm is about how people react to trauma. Some lash out at others, some try to make the most of it, but all of them get their powers in order to stop their trauma from happening again. That's what Parahumans-style precognition allows you to do: see that something is going to happen and then change it. Despite being a very dark story, there is always that glimmer of hope, that the terrible things that are happening can be stopped. And on the flip side, no matter how solid your plans are, how good the path ahead looks, something about it might change and you have to be ready to handle it. In Parahumans, the future is predictable yet uncertain, and that's both a blessing and a curse.

Pale, however is a much different story. It's about living in an unjust system and changing it for the better. The main characters are three teenage girls; one black, one gay, one neurodivergent. They all know life will not be fair to them. The Others of Kennet want to make the town a "free state" where their kind can go without being enslaved. They know for certain how they will be treated in the larger world. But Pale also has the most downtime of any Wildbow works. There's more scenes where characters are just interacting playfully, and needing to care for your Self is a major factor for the practitioners. In regards to Otherverse-style precognition, Pale is about knowing that terrible things will happen and managing to find some happiness anyways, while working slowly but determinedly to change things for the better despite the horrors.

Frankly, I don't think they'd work well in the other stories. Worm, being a darker story, needs that uncertainty to ride the line of maintaining stakes while not being a total downer. Meanwhile, due to Pale's lighter nature, if there were no consequences to fortune-telling then it wouldn't be impactful. It's the kind of story where someone could actually say "Never tell me the odds" and actually come out ahead, if that wasn't written into the rules of reality itself.

[rhondafromhr]

Nerds corruption au chapter 5!!

Thank you so much to everyone who’s been reading so far! This is the first thing I’ve written in literal years and all the likes/reblogs/comments have been super encouraging :) Also, quick update: I have an ao3 account now (same username - rhondafromhr), where I’ll be uploading what I’ve written so far. I’m going to adjust the formatting and fix any mistakes I happen to catch but other than that it’ll be identical. After this, I’ll probably just update there and post the link on here whenever there’s a new chapter. Unless anyone strongly prefers to read it in tumblr post format (I can always do both). Hope y’all enjoy!

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

“We’re Gonna Become The Bullies” - Chapter 5: No Matter The Cost, Idle The Threat

Hey gang, I have another plan <3 Let’s all meet at Beanies when Max is done with football practice and I’ll give you the rundown

Suddenly, Stephanie’s a lot less excited to have her phone back. How did Grace even get her number? More importantly, why is somebody whose last plan almost ended in manslaughter out here cooking up more plans? Stephanie knows she probably shouldn’t encourage this, but her morbid curiosity is just strong enough that she’s compelled to reply: cool, see you guys there. This better not be about Grace’s campaign to cancel the dance. Stephanie may or may not have an itemized list of cute homecoming proposal ideas for Pete and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get to use at least one of them. If only Grace could see that she’s totally wrong about co-ed dances. They’re not just an excuse to dry hump in the gym. It’s heavily in the mix, sure, but it’s not the only thing. There’s also underage drinking and dancing awkwardly. It’s an essential high school experience. Now that she thinks about it, Grace has probably missed out on a lot of dumb teenage shenanigans thanks to her sheltered upbringing. Huh, that’s actually kind of sad. Maybe if Grace is open to it, they can help her catch up.

Before she can ponder that too much, she notices Brad Callahan passing by in the hallway, which obviously means she has to stop what she’s doing to raise her fist at him threateningly and call him a weak ass bitch. He flinches and hurries along. God, she’s been doing that every single time she encounters him and it still hasn’t gotten old. She might feel bad if it was anyone else, but Brad sucks. The best part is knowing he can’t do anything about it. She’s beginning to understand why Max does this sort of thing.

She has a couple of hours to kill before they’re meeting up, so she opts to spend them in the library at least trying to get some homework done. Not her idea of a good time, but she figures she should keep her grades high enough that her dad doesn’t get on her case again. Between the better grasp of the material that she now has courtesy of Peter’s tutoring and once again having access to her favorite chill lo-fi study beats playlist on Spotify, it’s not as painful as usual and she manages to finish most of her math worksheet before heading out.

True to form, Grace is already there waiting for everybody when Stephanie arrives. She has two disposable coffee cups in front of her, at least one of which Stephanie assumes contains hot water (seriously, what is her fixation with drinking plain hot water? Even if she’s anti-caffeine, why not just drink herbal tea or something?). Stephanie orders a hot chocolate for Pete along with an iced americano for herself, then joins Grace at the cozy table in the corner. The dainty little bell attached to the door dings to indicate Ruth’s arrival.

“Hi, Ruth,” Grace greets her, sliding Ruth one of the drinks as she sits down “This is for you. It’s tea with honey, the barista said it would be good for your voice. Gotta make sure it’s rested up for the show!”

“Since when are you in the show?” Stephanie asks Ruth “I thought you were doing the lighting board.”

“As of right now, yes,” Grace answers for her “but if you saw her perform, you’d agree she should be the one up on stage, not Trevor.” She says his name with absolute contempt.

“I still don’t know about this,” says Ruth “What if we get in trouble? I don’t want this to affect my chances of getting into college. Everyone knows that’s where all the really spicy sexual experimentation happens, watch some porn!”

“Oh, that won’t be an issue. Haven’t you heard? I’m the hall monitor,” Grace replies.

“Wow, Chasity, no comment on the porn thing? You must be laser focused on whatever this plan is.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for Ruth to reconsider that vow of chastity later,” Grace says as Ruth emphatically shakes her head no “but right now the most important thing is to make sure that lead role goes to the person who actually deserves it.”

Max and Richie arrive next, barely taking notice of the rest of the group as they sit down. Max’s anxious energy is palpable (even if he’s no longer taking his bad moods out on them, he sure can drag down the energy in a room). Richie seems to be trying to talk him down.

“Max, there’s nothing to be worried about! You guys looked great at practice today. There’s no way we’re losing to Clivesdale tomorrow. This is what you’ve been training for,” Richie says.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Yeah, but that’s what I thought before the last game and we got destroyed. I don’t want to sleep outside again, it’s been getting really cold out! I could die from hypothermia and become a ghost. You know how I feel about ghosts, Richie!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Richie asks, racking his brain to try and figure out the connection between losing the big game and becoming a hypothermic ghost.

“When we lost to Sycamore, my dad locked me out of the house and made me sleep outside that night,” Max explains “but this is fuckin’ Clivesdale we’re talking about. If we lose to them, it’ll probably be for a week straight.” Richie, Ruth and Grace stare at him in stunned silence. Stephanie just gives him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

“Max,” Richie says, gentle and reassuring “we’re your sworn friends now, which means we’re not letting you sleep outside even if you single-handedly make us lose to Clivesdale. Just stay over at my place.”

“But doesn’t Paul, like, hate me?”

“Oh, he does not hate you. He’s just a little weary of you on account of the years of relentlessly bullying me. He’s going to be out of town, anyway.”

“Ooh, we should all have a sleepover, then!” Ruth says excitedly “That’s where sexy pillow fights happen!”

Stephanie shrugs. “Sure. Beats going home.”

“Oh, that actually does sound fun! My parents would never let me go to a co-ed sleepover, though,” Grace says wistfully.

“Just tell them it’s an overnight bible study and maybe conveniently forget to mention that the boys’ll be there,” Stephanie suggests “if it makes you feel better, I’ll even let you read, like, one passage to me so you’re not technically lying.” This elicits the brightest, most genuine smile she’s ever seen from Grace. Stephanie hopes the passage is at least one of the cool, violent ones and not something basic like “Love is patient, love is kind.” With Grace, it could go either way.

Richie doesn’t comment on everyone essentially inviting themselves over to his house. He simply leaves the table and returns with two mint teas, one of which he hands to Max.

“Here. This always makes me feel a little better when I’m anxious.”

“What? Thanks, bro. That’s so sweet.” Max can’t remember the last time he felt so loved. He never thought he’d have friends who care enough about him to bring him tea when he’s stressed and not let him freeze in the Michigan winter all night just because he loses a game.

All this talk about freezing to death reminds Stephanie that Pete’s hot chocolate is getting cold. Beverages at Beanie’s are best consumed piping hot - the spit is less noticeable that way. Hatchetfield has its fair share of strange, unexplainable phenomena, but why the health department has yet to crack down on this place might be the biggest mystery of all. Why people still come here fully knowing about the spit thing is a close second. Peter finally arrives and gratefully accepts what is now essentially gross, lukewarm chocolate milk.

“Alright, now that everybody’s here we can get started,” Grace begins “As you all know, the theater department cast Trevor in the lead for The Barbecue Monologues. Trevor!” Once again, she utters his name with vitriolic hatred. “Obviously, this is an absolute travesty and it’s our responsibility to fix it. I watched the rest of that rehearsal and he completely phoned in ‘Just For Once’. He can’t even get his lines right, let alone understand the emotional gravity of that song like Ruth does. You can’t tell me it’s God’s will to have Trevor up on that stage instead of her!”

“So, how are we getting Trevor off the stage, then? I need to know how deeply I should regret getting involved in this,” Peter quips. To his surprise, he doesn’t actually feel all that apprehensive. If anything, he’s kind of intrigued, wondering how they’re going to pull this off.

“Well, tomorrow morning I’m going to arrive at school for my usual morning duties and discover a heinous act of vandalism. I guess Trevor and his understudy decided to pull a little senior prank.”

“Wait, we’re framing Rudolph, too? Isn’t it way too convenient that the lead and his understudy both get in trouble this close to opening night? It’s going to look suspicious,” Richie replies.

“Well, those two do everything together! It’d be weirder if they weren’t both in on it. In fact, they’re so close they have these adorable matching friendship bracelets that they never take off. Except during dress rehearsals, that is. You got them, right, Ruth?” Ruth produces two thin, handmade woven bracelets from her backpack. “And at the scene of the crime, apparently, because that’s where they’re going to be found.”

“The scene of the crime?” Peter echoes back.

“The gym. They had the audacity to spray paint…” Grace lowers her voice to a whisper so the rest of the café patrons don’t hear the absolutely vile phrase leave her mouth “…‘Go Clivesdale’ on the wall right before the big game!” The rest of the group audibly gasps. Richie chokes on his tea.

“Go Clivesdale?” he sputters, “isn’t that taking it a little far? Maybe we should just write some swears or something.”

“Or anatomically correct nude drawings!” Ruth chimes in “I have a ton of pictures on my phone we can use for references.”

“Ruth, no. And Richie, the whole point is that it’s too far! We need to do something severe enough for them to actually get in serious trouble. Do you want Ruth to get her moment in the spotlight or not?”

Of course he does. Ruth has been by his side for years and helped him through some of the worst times of his life. He knows how much performing means to her. How she’s been missing out on it for years not for lack of talent or passion, but simply because her anxiety holds her back. If she finally feels confident enough to get up on stage, he decides, he’ll do anything to make that happen. Besides, Grace’s last plan worked out pretty well in the end.

“Okay, I’m in,” Richie says.

“For Ruth,” Pete agrees.

“I still don’t know her super well, but sure, for Ruth,” says Stephanie.

“See, this is why I love you guys! This plan is so smart and sneaky. I’d usually just beat him up and scare him into quitting, but this is way more fun!” Max adds.

“There’s a thought. That might actually be less effort than breaking and entering,” Stephanie muses. She is, of course, purely concerned with efficiency and is not at all thinking about the adrenaline rush she got from beating up Brad and itching to feel it again.

“We’re not breaking and entering. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately and I just might have forgotten to lock the side door to the gym this morning. We’ll just walk right in,” Grace responds with a wicked smile “speaking of which, we should head over. All the staff should be gone for the day. Steph, you’re our getaway driver!” They all follow Grace out of the café, blissfully unaware that they lingered for twenty minutes past closing time.

While her coworkers grumble about entitled customers ignoring their posted hours of operation, Zoe smiles to herself. She caught most of that conversation and can’t help but root for those kids. Committing sabotage to steal the lead role like that? Iconic. They’ve also stolen her heart. She wishes she was half as bold at their age. Their drinks will be on the house next time they come in. Maybe she won’t even spit in them.

The next morning, principal Blim arrives at work feeling less than his best, to say the least. He kicks himself for agreeing to attend “Thirsty Thursday” on a work night - he’s in his forties, who is he kidding? He really needs to stop hanging out with his cousin Barry. That guy was sure “in a hurry” to slam as many consecutive tequila shots as possible last night. He really didn’t care for Barry’s sketchy friend that joined them, either. He got way too drunk and made some comment about locking his kid out of the house whenever his football team loses. The dirtbag seemed completely serious about it, too. He knows Barry’s been going through it with the divorce, but he’s going to have a serious talk with him about how he’s been coping and the company he keeps. He drags himself to the teacher’s lounge for the coffee he desperately needs, trying to ignore the obnoxious fluorescent lights boring into his eyes and making the pounding in his head exponentially worse. As he makes his way to his office, he begs whatever higher power might be listening for a calm, uneventful day. Said higher power must be feeling vindictive, because he’s immediately greeted by a crying, frantic Grace Chasity.

“Principal Blim, thank goodness you’re here! I was doing my morning rounds a-and I stopped in the gym and somebody wrote-“ she sobs “it’s so awful, I can’t even say it!”

“It’ll be okay, Grace. Let’s head over there together and you can show me.”

There’s no need to panic yet. Knowing Grace, this could easily be her reaction to something that’s mildly crude at worst. At least that’s what he thinks until they enter the gymnasium and he realizes she’s absolutely right to be so worked up. See, there’s a beautiful, haunting, hyper-realistic mural of a nighthawk flying over the Hatchetfield Witchwood on the wall opposite the bleachers. It’s been there for about fifteen years now, painted by a former student who was slated to go to a prestigious art school, but sadly went out into that very Witchwood one day and did not make it to the end of her senior year. Now that mural has been desecrated in a manner absolutely unforgivable. As he gazes upon with horror, he drops his mug and the sound of glass shattering on the linoleum floor echoes through the empty gymnasium. This is the foulest, most offensive thing he’s ever seen in his life. He can’t even begin to imagine what type of disgusting human being would do something like this. “Go Clivesdale!” Somebody had the nerve to write “Go Clivesdale!” over the Nighthawk mural! Right before the big game, no less! He’ll catch the perpetrator and make them pay if it’s the last thing he does.

[bi-bard]

There's So Much I Wanna Tell You, But I Don't Know If It'll Fit - Joel Miller Imagine [The Last of Us]

Title: There's So Much I Wanna Tell You, But I Don't Know If It'll Fit

Pairing: Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 1,177 words

Warning(s): none that I know of

Summary: [Inspired by "Sunday Crossword" by J. Maya] Joel and (Y/n) attempt to maintain a boundary between them. However, their feelings grow regardless of what they want and they're left questioning if that boundary was set out of respect or out of fear.

Author's Note: I'm working on the next part of this OC, but I wanted to write something simple and cute.

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There was a period of time when I was convinced that I was happier before I met Joel.

It felt like there was a lot less stress then.

It wasn't that Joel didn't treat me well. He did. Very well. But that on its own was a problem.

Joel and I had been going on casual dates for a while. Coffee or lunch together, we'd meet for a movie or a drink, we'd go for walks together. It was all very... safe.

Joel never stayed the night at my house. I had never even been to his. We never used any kind of label for what we were. We were seeing each other, we were exclusive, but calling ourselves seemed careless. In all honesty, it felt like I was in high school all over again.

I always understood Joel's hesitance. He had a daughter. I had never heard a dad talk so much about how proud they were of their kid. He saw her as nothing less than the sun. I could just see it. Bringing anyone new into his life had to be done with caution because they would become a part of her life too. I respected that.

But that didn't change my growing feelings for him. I couldn't count the number of times that I had to physically bite my tongue to keep myself from saying that I loved him.

It was awful.

The dynamic that I had with Joel was something that I had imagined having. Sweet and loving and funny. It was almost perfect.

And yet, I couldn't say the one thing that I wanted to say most.

I didn't think that I ever would get that chance.

Until we went to the movies one night.

I had mentioned to Joel that there was a horror movie coming out that I had wanted to go see. He offered to go with me one weekend while Sarah was over at a friend's house.

"'28 Days Later,'" Joel read off the ticket as we waited at concessions. "Never heard of it."

"It's set in London after some kind of illness has set in and turned the people into monsters driven by pure rage," I explained.

"I see... social commentary?"

"Shut up," I replied, chuckling at him. "You'll like it. I think. If you don't... I'll pay for dinner next time."

"You've got yourself a deal," he grinned at me. I nodded.

There was a moment before I spoke up again, "Thank you for this, by the way."

"You've got nothing to thank me for," he muttered before leaning over to kiss the side of my head. I felt myself bite my tongue as he leaned back. It was an instinct now.

Despite all of the hesitation, moments like these were the best.

Or they usually were.

When Joel leaned back, I saw him look past me and his face dropped. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned around, looking for someone who was looking at us.

"Joel," I said once I didn't see anyone. "What's going on?"

"My daughter's here," he replied.

"Really," I asked.

He nodded.

"You said that she was at a friend's house."

"Because I thought she was," he explained. "I didn't know they had plans to come see a movie."

I chuckled.

"What?"

"You're acting like a teenager getting caught by their parents," I shrugged. "I'm not sneaking into your room so we can make out. We're two adults on a date."

"I just... I wanted to plan this better."

"I know," I nodded. "But the universe doesn't really give a shit what you plan."

"Yeah... you're right."

A new voice joined the conversation, "Dad?"

"Here we go," he muttered before looking at his daughter. "Hey... what are you doing here?"

"Could ask you the same question," she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm here to see a movie," he said. "With a friend."

I waved. "I'm (Y/n)."

Sarah looked back and forth between us for a few moments. "Are you guys on a date?"

I tried to hide the shocked laugh that wanted to escape me. I looked over at Joel, who didn't look away from her.

"Yeah... we are," Joel admitted. "We have been for a little while now."

"I knew it!" she pointed at him. "I knew you didn't have that many friends to be meeting that often."

"Hey!" he replied.

"Anyway," she turned to me. "It's nice to meet you. I have to get back to my friends."

I nodded. "Have fun. It was nice meeting you too."

I turned back to Joel, who was very clearly tense. Again, he looked like a teenager getting caught by his parents.

"Hey," I touched his arm. "That went about as well as could be expected."

"Yeah, yeah... you're right."

"I often am."

"Alright," he mumbled. "Come on. Line's moving."

I just chuckled to myself before continuing to walk forward.

We stayed pretty much silent until we got into the theater. We were early, mostly because of my insistence. We found our spots, waiting for the rest to fill up and for the film to start.

I felt my mind starting to wander. The thing that Joel was most worried about was his daughter. But now, I've met her. We seemed to be fine with each other, even though it had only been a few moments. So... that should be at least somewhat resolved. Right?

I didn't need to hesitate anymore, right?

"You alright?"

I looked over at Joel when he spoke up.

"You're not already scared enough to leave, are you?"

"Shut up," I nudged him. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I just... I need to say something and I don't know how you're gonna respond to it," I said. "It's... It's nothing bad. I don't think so, at least."

"Then I probably won't think so either," he replied. "Come on... tell me."

I took a deep breath before speaking up. "Joel... I love you."

There was a long pause. One where we were just looking at each other and not a single word was spoken. I felt a sense of dread in my stomach. I wanted to go hide in a hole somewhere. I had overstepped. I had been so careful and I still fucked it up. And now I was gonna lose the best thing that I had ever had.

I was ready to push myself out of my seat and leave him there. "I'm sorry-"

"Hey," Joel grabbed my hand. "I... I love you."

"Really?"

"Yeah... I just... I didn't want to rush you into something."

"Oh," I muttered. "That's why I didn't say anything."

"A pair of geniuses here, aren't we," he chuckled, relaxing a bit more into his seat.

"Yeah, guess so.

I leaned over and hesitantly rested my head on his shoulder. I only truly relaxed when I heard a quiet hum come from Joel as he did so.

I grinned to myself.

And just like that, the best thing I had ever had became even better.

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

Author's Note: For just a dash of additional heartbreak, the U.S release of 28 Days Later was in June of 2003, so this all happened and then Joel and (Y/n) got like three months together before the world went to shit.

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[thedawningofthehour]

so while I've been reading doth---and I'm sure this is mostly cuz I'm a sucker for good family dynamics---I've been all for draxum and galois and Casey getting to be a good healthy family unit, and have been righteously annoyed on the family for not being able to see that Donnie and galois are two separate people now and trying to treat gale like he's still they're brother when he's now functionally NOT, but then I got thinking about how, if when Donnie got new memories and became galois 'Donnie' continued existing as like a spirit or something, how he would feel about current events. And. I came up with this.

"Oh, no no no no, no no NO NO NO!!! HOW DARE YOU? How dare you care about him? How dare you comfort him? YOU DID THIS! You're the one who gave him those traumas! You don't get to pretend you didn't do anything! You don't get to erase what you did to me, like it didn't happen! How dare you erase my life, erase ME like I didn't matter. Like you can just make up this perfect son without having to deal with such silly inconveniences as the CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR OWN ACTIONS. Because the stupid thing is, you do might have won me over. Because you DO have a point. I really didn't know about all the bloody history, or the reality of life for yokai. And maybe I would've been willing to help you with a less crazy plan. But what kind of fucking conversation starter is chaining someone to a table? It's YOUR fault I wasn't willing to compromise. I can forgive you for having a cause. But I find it fucking HILARIOUS that you think it's reasonable to, after KIDNAPPING ME, make one (1) offer to let me choose to help you, WITHOUT REALLY GIVING ME A CHOICE, and when I said no just going, 'WELP, I TRIED. TIME TO FUNCTIONALLY MYRDER THIS TEENAGER.' BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOU DID!! You shattered me and shoved my broken pieces back together to make this perfect new person, caring so much that my 'personality' was intact, like you can just pick and chose parts of me that you like and get rid of the rest. How dare you? How DARE you reduce me to that?

You know it will destroy him, don't you? He's smart, just like I was. Eventually, he'll find a piece of evidence that you can't explain away, or my family will finally find a way to get through to him, and he'll finally put two and two together and realize what you did. Who he used to be. And when he does---when he finds out you've been lying the entire time, that all his memories aren't real---you know it'll destroy him, don't you? who he is and who he used to be will slam back together, and it'll be like a meteor crashing into a moon, and there will be no survivors. He'll break into pieces so small that you won't be able to build anyone new out of it this time. and then you'll have no one. And it's all you're fault. And there's no avoiding it now. It's inevitable. And I hope you know that by taking the short cut and cutting away the pieces of me you didn't like, my history and my loyalty and my love for my family, you've put a count down on his existence. you only have so long left with him, and there's no minimizing the damage. I hope you know. And I hope it eats you up inside.

and I can't wait for it to happen.For it to all come crashing down on you. I hope he gets dragged from your arms. And I don't care if we suffer in the process. I'd kill Galois just to make you feel his loss. I would have died to keep myself from you."

So I mightve gone a little overboard (and also a little out of character, but I like to think rage does things to a person), but long story short I'm not voting for them to be a happy family by the end of this anymore :/

Sorry that this is stupid long haha

Thanks for writing! I do really love your fic. It makes me think deeply

Donnie saying he would kill Gale is...interesting. Carry on.

Donnie and Galois don't really have separate consciousnesses or anything, but...yeah, this works.

[everbloomingsoul]

@kindofuneven sent: [ THIRTEEN ] for sender to reveal their abilities to receiver by protecting them. from xx | accepting

she had figured out months ago that she was in over her head. tried to stay out of the mess of supernatural beings popping up in beacon hills like the town is some kind of flower field while still clinging to the threads of connection with her family only to be constantly caught in the edges. tried to ignore the number of times someone called her a coward for not stepping up for any of the armed calls that seemed to increase weekly. thea knew enough to keep everyone protected, always ready to provide mountain ash for new homes and such. less steady the more demands came for wolfsbane varieties, even when it's chris asking.

this time she'd gotten too close. too many people kept getting hurt, guilt hanging heavily in the pit of the young hunter's stomach for how often it was at least partially her fault, thinking this might be a way to start making up for it. but after the break-in at the school, thea couldn't risk leaving allison in that path alone. and she sure as hell couldn't go to anyone else, not even chris, with her worries about how they were handling the situation here.

cut to tonight: one night until the full moon. thea had severely underestimated her own skill at tracking and accidentally come across derek hale when looking for something else entirely. he seems to just know she's an argent even with how quickly she tries to pull away from the situation, and frankly it's either run for it or stand her ground to disappear. she chose run, and all she could do is hope to make it far enough that after the full moon is done there would be a chance to talk.

she's still smart ( or foolish ) enough to steer clear from the paths she knows the other hunters had planned tonight. derek hadn't been the one causing all the havoc, that much she knew, and if she could get the distance to make sure he didn't rip her throat out then it would be fine. probably. the second rookie mistake she makes is not accounting for how much better he knows beacon hills and the surrounding area, and she has to make another choice: lead him across the paths most likely to get him injured or worse, or break pattern and hope someone doesn't decide to hold this against her too.

the chance to decide disappears when she hears how close the next growl is, and instinct screams at her to duck, leaving claws to rake through empty air. she fully expects the next strike to catch her, only for it...not to happen. instead there's a crash of something crashing against brick, followed by more growls; derek wasn't making all of them. two wolves. she stays quiet hoping they'll be too occupied with each other to turn attention back to her, seeking the next optimal exit only to realize the best option is behind her. derek didn't seem to be in a forgiving enough mood for this to be any kind of easy, but she still had to try.

and it's a lucky thing she turns to do so, because thea has to duck a second time to avoid the debris flung in her direction, grimacing against the shower of dust and brick. yeah, definitely not easy. but nothing comes after that, and she looks up to see if she can identify what piece she's missing. who, more than likely, holding a standoff that was so far keeping her alive.

scott.

of course it's the mccall kid. they all knew the new beta running around had to be young, but the lack of destruction hadn't implicated so young as high school. wolves his age only had that kind of claim if they were borne, as far as she knew. she can't tell if there's an actual conversation between the two or not, but the longer the teenager holds his ground, the more clear it becomes that at least for now she's safe. safer at least, and it's a relief when derek leaves first. it didn't seem like they had the dynamic of a pack either, oddly, but for now she lets it go. seemed a step toward fair after he'd jumped in when he didn't have to.

" ...well that was unexpected. " the words pop out unbidden when he faces her, transformed features already fading back. if scott has this much control now she couldn't imagine what else she was missing. what they were missing. " i-- thank you, for jumping in like that. thought i was a goner for a bit there. "

[sweetshelluvaau]

So in the hellaverse it seems like hell is still supposed to be a ‘punishment’ for sinners, but it doesn’t really seem that way with how the Overlords work and whatnot (especially with Valentino- geez that man needs a beating). I wouldn’t mind if it was stated in the show to be not true and just something humans made up, but it’s obvious that isn’t the case.

It seems like it’s really only a hell for the people who fall for smaller crimes, so would you keep this aspect in your version? I wouldn’t

Yeah I don't fully get how Overlords work within the Hazbin universe either hence why I kinda made them less powerful that they seem in the show. Like, they can make deals with other sinners for their souls? How? How do they have that power? How did they get that power? Why do they have more than the fucking king of hell himself?

I did answer the 'punishment' question in the past where it depends on each ring but Pride doesn't punish anyone because Lucifer doesn't want to. Not in the "I don't want to hurt anyone" sort of way more than a "fuck you, dad!" way where he's acting like a rebellious teenager and refusing to play jailer/continuing to defy God (yes I know God isn't a thing in Hazbin for some reason but sssh). Plus his dislike for humans/sinners also is him just like 'nah I'm keeping my distance'. So, the reason why Overlords are so powerful in Pride is basically the lack of order or 'punishment'. Yes they're in Greed and Sloth too but no where as powerful as they would be in Pride and if they do feel as if they're starting to become a threat/a 'risk' to Hellborns in that ring, the Sin of that ring makes sure to shut that shit down.

It's called 'the wild west of hell' for reason and those who landed themselves into other rings that aren't as 'kind' to sinners attempt to smuggle themselves into Pride with vary success. I have Valentino originally landing in the Lust ring but managed to escape but that wasn't an easy feat neither due to well...It's Valentino and being I did keep Ozzie's dislike of use of force in this AU...

Let's just say he ain't gonna have a fun time in the future if he's ever dragged back to Lust. I'll leave it at that.

Overlords are basically powerful gang/business leaders in this AU. (I'd use the term 'organized crime' in some cases, but that'd imply there's a law enforcement in hell which there really isn't in the traditional sense but I'll save that for another time being I got a lot of notes on rules and laws in Hell and likely will make a detailed post when I feel like I'm ready to do so) They don't have that 'deal with the devil contract' thing (with the expectation of Alastor maybe. Maybe) going but may have a version of it but this is something as i'm still fleshing things out and haven't thought much about this until Hazbin itself dropped. Again, I'll likely talk about Overlords in-depth at a later date once I feel I have a solid foundation on how I'm gonna handle them.

So not really keeping it as is. It's kinda of 'Life is what you make of it' sort of deal and depending on your sin(s) and/or where you land in Hell, you can survive okay. Yeah, life is gonna be shitty regardless, but you're stuck here here so might as well make the best of it. I'm likely gonna change and expand on things as I go being with every new bite of content coming out of Hazbin and Helluva Boss (though I gave up on that show being Viv rather write her Wattpad Yaoi fanfiction suppose to giving us a fun show about a bunch of demon assassins but may still adapt something from new episodes even if I don't plan on watching them anymore) gives me something new to play with if I don't scrap it entirely, and trust me: Hazbin has been giving me a sandbox of shit to play with.

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

Hey, how are you?

I've been reading some of your posts and comments and I saw that you were open to doing headcanons about Lockdown, could you do headcanons about what he would be like as a father? I see him being a good father who trains and educates his son or daughter, but I also see him as a father who does not accept less than perfection, always demanding that the child/teenager be great at everything (so toxic)

I really love your writing, I just don't understand how you do it, like, you just look at the character and think "hmm, I think he's like that" and something very perfect and unique comes out, I really admire anyone who can do that... Anyway, drink water and stay well ❣️

Hello! I'm good and I hope you are well too!

Thank you for reading my stuff and always popping into my notes. Thank you for your kind words, I am glad you like my writing!! I'm always happy when I see your name pop up.

Warnings: Toxic father, toxic parenting.

~

He had never thought about becoming a father, he was always too busy. He had better things to do and spend his time on than try to raise a small being from its initial stages of weakness.

However when he found out he was going to become one anyway, he decided to accept his responsibilities. It takes two to make a sparkling, and he's not the type to abandon something that he helped create. He decided to take sole responsibility of raising it, knowing he could do it best.

At first he disliked the little being. It was always so needy and vulnerable. He wished he didn't have to carry it around and feed it when he was busy. But after many years he began to grow a bond. Perhaps that's just what happens when you have something clutched to your side 24/7 for almost a few decades.

He had already planned out his Childs future. He knew exactly who the would become, what they could do and how they would help him in his endeavors.

When his kid became old enough to look after themselves, he began training them. He made them train with weapons; guns, swords and hand to hand combat. Then he taught them tactics, stealth and how to use everything to their advantage.

He taught them multiple languages, and how to navigate the ship in case he was busy with other duties. He also made sure to take his child on adventures. Any time he went to another planet to capture a creature, he would take his child. Often he would make the kid do the capturing, he believes they have to learn from a young age so that they can become a strong adult.

He's not comfortable when his child becomes emotional. Any time his kid begins to cry or get upset, Lockdown gets snappy. Emotions show weakness, and he won't allow that on his ship. He's not completely heartless, if his kid is really uncomfortable then he will let the kid off the hook and not let them do something they don't want to. But afterwards he will explain to his kid, that doing things you are uncomfortable with makes you stronger. Then he will expect them to do the task next time.

He may not be good at showing kindness, especially when his child is upset. But he is great at showing when he is proud. When he is proud he will shower his child with 'affection' and compliments. He will tell the child they are doing great and to keep it up.

His 'affection' is usually a pat on the back, or resting his servo on their shoulder.

He will give his child many gifts. It may not be gifts they want, but it's gifts. Said items include weapons, creatures/pets that have a sole purpose of protecting the kid, useful tools to help them on adventures and missions.

Lockdown knows sometimes mistakes happen. Sometimes the universe throws everything against you and you fail. However, he knows how to take what the universe throws at him and make it work to his advantage. He's done so much, and learnt so much he rarely makes mistakes. So he holds that same expectation with his kid. When they are younger and smaller he will allow them to make a few mistakes. But once they are old enough to know better, he will not accept failure. Not unless they have a reasonable and very good excuse.

He is very strict with his rules. And if his child breaks any rules they will be justly punished. There is no escaping the punishments, they must be completed. If the child tries to dupe the punishment, and Lockdown finds out, he will make the punishment's longer and harder.

Lockdown will not allow his child to do things he does not like. If his child wants to become something else, other than what Lockdown has planned for them, he will not allow it. If his child wants to go by themselves, and Lockdown doesn't think they are ready, then he will not allow them. There is no disobeying Lockdown, he has cages on his ship and he will use them if he has to.

[polyhexian]

What would happen with the custody battle (or at least a timeline where Belos died and Hunter had to escape a group of caring adults via Eda’s portal for whatever reason) if Hunter went to the Human realm and got adopted- not by Camilla (at first) but Luz

like here me out- Hunter finds Eda’s door while all the adults are arguing and just goes through the portal and is confronted with an intensely emotional Luz in the middle of a rainstorm.

Luz could just have lost her Dad and ran into the woods to try and search for fairies or something that can make things better, Azura book clutched to her chest and pajamas completely soaked, and there right when she’s completely lost and her excitement dimmed and hope fading as reality of death sets in- a panicked elf like boy stumbles his way out of an old shack in the woods that her dad used to tell her stories about how the brother’s who lived there disappeared from a Witch’s influence- and Luz’s eyes light up. Cause this is exactly like the stories and obviously that means this is fate and he HAS to come home with her!

and Hunter is just there confused and tired and mildly terrified cause the rain is COLD how is he not dead! And this strange hyperactive creature- that should probably be a witch but is most definitely not with the shear amount of sunshine radiating from it- is clinging to him and gushing nonsense and ordering him around like a mini emperor and he’s just had the roughest weeks of his life and the direct instructions are almost a relief- though half the stuff it says make less sense then the strange language it keeps switching to. And then he’s being dragged through the rain to this big empty house and forcibly shoved on the couch as it races around like a wirlwind- asking questions and handing him something in a cup that smelled far better then it looked and the warm place and simple commands luls him to his practiced soldier mode where he just stares and answers as he debrief’s his superiors (cause none of the adults treated him like this they interrogated him on hard stuff- stuff like who his parents were, what was Belos planning, when’s the last time he slept) and then it’s grabbing him again and putting him into the same weird strangle like thing it did when he left the portal and he just lets himself zone out- this is easy- simple really. His Uncle did much worse for reacting to less- this didnt even choke him fully.

camila comes in three hours later panicked and drenched having been searching frantically everywhere for her 11 year old daughter to see her daughter tangled up with a strange clearly out of it boy on the couch vibrating as she mouths over and over “ive got it..”

Camila gets home and discovers her daughter has found and adopted a cloned child soldier from another dimension by handing him a Gameboy with Tetris on it and some granola.

Can you fucking IMAGINE the anarchy on the other side when everyone notices hunter is gone and they all go into panic mode trying to find him and they just can't??? Like he's just fucking gone??? I don't think they would even remotely think to check another dimension even if eda has a door there. It doesn't seem like anyone really thought about her fucking dimensional portal until Luz showed up. I kind of imagine jaspers having a fucking breakdown after a week of trying to find him and hes in fucking anguish and eda is like I know what will cheer him up, human granola. She pops on over to another dimension and stumbles right past two kids on the sidewalk waiting for the school bus and one of them is her missing teenage war criminal who is now wearing a Mario t shirt and complaining about how much he hates cheese