#you're so right almost being murdered is much more interesting than murdered especially in this context

[jks1uv]

𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑛 ; jason todd

summary: a very fucking big small side effect of being baptized in the lazarus pit is retrograde amnesia. however, love is the dimension that transcends everything; even the loss of memories.

pairing: fiancée!reader x fiancé!jason todd.

trope: partial memory loss + both parties learning to falling in love with each other again + boy who thinks he’s unworthy of love x girl who loves him like it’s breathing + she fell first but he fell harder.

genre: fluff + angst + mild hurt / comfort + slow-burn & rekindling romance.

warnings‼️: crude language + mentions of his murder + mentions of violence + reader’s 24, jason’s 25 + jason’s a drug / crime lord + reader & jason are yearners.

word count: 9,622.

random disclaimerrr: it can take somewhere between days to years to recover from retrograde amnesia & gain your memories back. for fanfiction purposes, i’ve dramatized the recovery. italics = inner thoughts, bold italics = flashbacks. i love this song, i breathe this song. nobody fw this song like i do. canon states he was 15 when he died but i changed things up. i haven't read a single comic & all the lore ik is from google, tiktok & this app lol. pls lmk on how i can improve! happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jks1uv

Here you are; face to face with the man whose warmth you were sure could no longer feel in the dark of the cruel, lonely night. You were sure the thread of his love was no longer in the stitches of your heart.

The one man you’ve ever loved that much and hard, is limp and unconscious. It doesn’t need to be said how he’s also very much alive this time around.

He's weighing down on the shoulders of his beloved brother, in the way eldest sons gently cradle their brave-faced youngest brothers in times of need.

Dick looks at you and you see him. For the first time, you truly see who Richard Grayson-Wayne is.

The dutiful, eldest son, yes. But more than that, something he will always be no matter the consequence of life; a brother.

You recognize that bleeding, aching heart of his and understand that it was bleeding and aching with yours too.

He’s still a brother even if he lost his. That title doesn’t just go away, lost in the wind like the smell of freshly cut grass and 2015.

You step aside and Dick wordlessly carries his little brother into your house.

“I... we can't talk here.”

You can't stop staring at the larger body of muscle on your couch. You can't believe he's just lying there, on the couch.

Suddenly, you can't seem to remember the misery that left you incapacitated. You don't taste the grief in the salt of your tears on your tongue.

Those years seem so far away, it's disorienting.

“Y/n?”

You're broken out of your trance and you swiftly move your head towards the older brother.

He sympathizes with you. He takes you by the hand and leads you to your bed. You sit down and he follows suit right next to you.

It's silent for a few moments, he's trying to find the right words to explain what you see.

“We found him, Bruce and I.”

You look at him but he refuses to make eye contact. Instead, he finds feigns interest in the scratches on his knuckles.

“Have you heard of a the new drug and crime-lord in Gotham, recently?”

You nod. You'd about of him; the man in black who hides himself under a red hood. Ironically, that's also his name: the Red Hood.

“…He’s actually Jason.”

And with the way he says it so quietly, so softly; you'd almost think you imagined him saying those two words.

Almost.

But almost is never enough, especially not in this moment. You need more.

“What?” You whisper harshly.

He still refuses to look at you but you won't have that anymore.

“Dick, look at me.”

He reluctantly looks you in the eyes and you can tell he feels awful. He feels that way because this isn’t how life after Jason’s death was supposed to be.

He was indescribably euphoric as any loved one would be, but it all came crashing down just as fast and fleeting the feeling was.

He didn’t want it to be this way but alas, when life gives you lemons.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n.”

He can’t imagine how life was like for you but he knows it wasn’t pleasant.

You look at him with gratitude and squeeze his hand in thanks. He squeezes it back and you lay your head on his shoulder as he explains everything.

Jason grumbles and groans half in pain. The other half in disorientation.

Even though your curtains are closed, they don't block the sunlight from coloring in your once-dark living room.

Dick’s lying on his stomach and snoring away.

Jason carefully gets up and sees the older man not so gracefully splayed out across his air mattress (yes, he's one of those people) on the floor.

Jason's gaze follows the confines of your living room. He scopes out the unfamiliar space and he soon finds himself in front of the fridge.

He's staring at the notes and magnets among other things you have hung up. However, his eyes stop in front of a collage of pictures.

You made a photo strip out of the pictures you took with him at this specific photo booth.

There were 5 photos that consist of the strip, each from 5 different dates.

Jason can't figure out why he feels a strange, magnetic pull towards this woman.

She shouldn't mean anything to him but that doesn't sound right.

It's like deep down, he knows- feels like there's something missing. It’s weird; feeling something’s wrong but not knowing what could possibly give that inclination.

He studies the woman that he's sure is the sun. Jason's sure this woman's smile and joy are willing and radiant. In fact, he's so sure this woman is the quintessence of all he's been missing.

A home.

Jason feels a pit of emptiness open up in his stomach that fills up with dread just as quickly.

Jason couldn't remember much of his life before the Lazarus pit breathed it back into his mangled body. His painful rage and sadness were the only evidence tying him to a life beyond revenge and strife.

When and Dick and Bruce realized who the red hood truly was, they did everything in their power to convince the broken boy to come back with them, even if it was just for a little while.

Back at the Wayne manor, he discovered a few memories of what he presumed was a better life, but he also found some things that he didn't think was possible for a man like him.

On his dresser he found what appeared to be a golden wedding band, a Revlon hairbrush, and a key with Buttercup from The PowerPuff Girls printed on it.

He asked Stephanie Brown if those items belong to her or Cassandra Cain but she dismissed the notion. She told him who those items really belonged to but he couldn’t believe it.

A woman he’s romantically involved with? His fiancé?

Yeah, right.

There wasn’t much evidence to make her claim viable, until he found a couple of words engraved inside what he found to be his golden band.

Always — Y/n

“Y/n.” He whispered your name like it was a secret only for him to know.

He stared at the band for a bit, not believing he found something so delicate and pure. A love so strong, it made him want to get married.

Stephanie got to know her older brother through the retelling of memories. Memories that people seemed so fond of. Through them, she learned what he liked, disliked. How Bruce was going to break his rule, bend his code of ethics for him.

Jason talked to her, cared for her. But he never really opened up about himself and what goes on in his head. At the very least, he was there for his little sister when times were tough and that was enough.

He was immortalized by his grave but seeing him in the flesh— at this moment, made her overwhelmingly emotional.

She hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder and he looked at her.

“It was your idea.”

“…Really?”

His heart warms with an unfamiliar fondness.

Jason never thought of himself to be a romantic but this revelation forces him to look at this ring and himself in a different light.

Now as he stands in front of your fridge, Jason thinks this must be you. The woman in these photos, the woman whose name is engraved on the inside of his wedding band, the woman of his dreams. It must be you.

Jason turns around to wake Dick up and tell him about his epiphanies but here he is. Face to face with you, instead.

Your lips part to sharply exhale and you're about to say something but your mind betrays your tongue. You don't want to say what you want him to hear because of the way he's looking at you.

His eyes are wide in surprise. It's her he thinks.

Jason slowly stalks his way towards you like you’re a doe he doesn't want to scare you away.

There's a tremble in your bones. The kind that vibrates with a desperation to pull him into you and never let go.

You want to hug him, kiss him and stare into his once-blue eyes until you count the different flecks of green in them.

But you can't. You can't touch him yet, you can't talk to him like he's your soon-to-be husband yet. You can't softly sing him to sleep when he needs it yet.

So, you’ll settle on yearning for him. You’ll brave a smile when you're wistful and you'll hold on to the hope of him coming back to you.

You're determined to make him remember you no matter how long it takes.

He's in front of you now, there's an almost dazed look on his face.

His eyes are a a grayish-teal, making you question how much of him has truly changed.

“Hello.” Your voice is a bit shaky and breathy.

Jason half-blinks and tilts his chin to the side a bit. “Hi.” He murmurs.

“Why are you two acting like side characters in a high school romance anime?”

His name ain’t ‘Dick’ for nothing!

You've spent the entire afternoon cleaning the guest bed and bath room to make space for Jason.

In the meantime, Jason is trying to figure out how not to make a fool of himself.

“I dunno… what if she's changed her mind?”

Jason’s getting cold feet but he'd never blame you if you did.

“Dude.” Tim sighs. “You were literally the loss of her life all this time.”

And he’s right, Jason knows that.

He’s just really anxious and his insecurities are bubbling up. It's inevitable when it comes to the matters of the heart.

You're not just any girl— you're his fiancé.

In his heart, you’re an integral part of him but in his mind; you’re a woman who deserves so much better.

You can't possibly want to grow old with him.

“It must mean something if she's spent years of her life tolerating you.”

Always count on Damien Wayne to say the thing(s) nobody else will.

Dick quirks up an eyebrow at his baby brother's opinion but when he looks at Jason, they both know he means well.

Stephanie and Cassandra offer him words of advice and encouragement. Though, he's not sure how helpful they'll be as they don't personally know you but apparently, ‘that's besides the point’.

“Just remember what we said and you’ll be fine!”

Duke hands Jason a small lotus plant as he ‘shouldn't show up empty-handed’ if he wants a chance at a great first— well, second impression.

Jason appreciates the gesture as the lotus sends a message of a new beginning, something he’s longing for.

He secures the plant, puts on his helmet and drives his motorcycle back to your house.

“Okay, you got this. Just be cool.”

He rings the bell and you swing open the door without even looking through the blinds. You just knew it'd be him.

You're a little breathless but you suppose he just does that to you.

The two of you lock eyes for a moment until he clears his throat awkwardly.

“This is for you.” Jason smiles politely and you swoon over the baby pink plant.

“Oh, wow.” You beam. “You really didn't have to.”

He disagrees. “I did.”

Your lips split open with a grin, touched by the gesture. “Thank you, Jason.”

He’s nonchalant when he nods, ignoring how nice it felt to see you smile because of him.

“Um,” You point at his shoes. “Could you place them on the rack next to you?”

“Oh! I-I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You say calmly.

You don’t want him to walk on eggshells around you so you won’t mind teaching him how to be familial.

He coughs, still slightly embarrassed at himself (and at how fast his nonchalant streak came to an end).

“This is your room, the bathroom is right over there and, uh, I moved your things in… I hope that's alright?”

You didn't want to overwhelm him but you also wanted him to know that he has a say in things, even though he’s living in a place that used to be a part of him.

He’s touched at your gesture but he feels… disappointed? He’s not quite sure where he wants to be but doesn’t know what the feeling of belonging is like, either.

It’s confusing, but he expresses his gratitude nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s great. Thank you.”

You nod with pursed lips.

He looks around at the materialistic things that describe him. Posters, collectable figurines, books. He loved his books.

Jason runs his fingers along the spines of the books neatly organized on a shelf.

It's quiet, you almost leave as you deem it intimate; becoming familiar with yourself. Jason is making up for all the time he's lost, not just with you but a part of himself as well.

“I remember when I read Hamlet for the first time.” He says after a while.

You smile knowingly.

“Alfred and I would read and discuss Shakespeare together at our own little private book club.”

Jason picks the book up and randomly flips through the pages, he comes across written annotations on transparent sticky notes.

“What’s this?” He asks, curious.

“Oh,” you walk up to him and he gives the book to you. “These are my annotations from when I read it for the first time.”

You admire the book fondly.

“You’d told me all about the book club so I asked for book recommendations. That way you could talk about your favorite literature with me.”

You're still looking over your notes while Jason stares into your side profile.

He thinks it's endearing; that you care enough about him to indulge in conversation about his hobby.

You also intrigues him.

How could you just so casually think of something so kind and thoughtful? How could you want to spend your time reading and truly understanding every reference, point, plot and quote; just to understand a part of him?

Can someone really care about another person that much?

Jason doesn’t find his answers in his beloved books but something tells him he’ll find out soon enough, in you.

Jason is banned from going out on patrol for the time being.

He was actually supposed to quit altogether when he proposed to you but Joker just had to follow the instinct of his passion: inflicting misery.

Dick insisted that the rest of the members will take care of patrolling as all Jason should focus on is you.

Kinda hard to do that when you're so... well, you.

It’s been a couple of days and he still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Your beauty shines through your smile and the way you care for him. He feels it under the long, jagged scar carved atop his chest.

He’s distracted when he's reading in the living room.

There you are; in a large t-shirt that drapes over your frame and the neckline is cut. It hangs over one side of your shoulder and the sight takes his breath away.

You're cooking something you know he likes, just because you know how much it comforts him. But he doesn’t realize this yet.

“Jason?”

He averts his gaze and pretends he wasn’t staring at you since you stepped foot into the kitchen, half an hour ago.

“Hm?” His voice cracks just a bit but he hope you don’t notice it.

You turn around at his hum and walk towards the couch.

“Dinner’ll be ready in a few minutes, would you like to watch something while we eat?”

You and Jason used to watch movies and shows all the time together, courtesy of one of your love languages being quality time.

He bookmarks his page and sets his book down.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.”

You blink and show you’re listening intently.

His fingers rake through his hair nervously. “I was wondering if we could talk about stuff that would help jog my memory.”

“Yeah, of course.” You nod and smile at him.

He smiles back, albeit small but he does.

“Okay.” He claps his hands together and goes to the kitchen to wash his hands.

As you set the table, Jason watches you carefully. He wanted to know everything. Every chore, every part of your routine, every detail. He wanted to help with dinner but was nervous to be near you.

What if he made you uncomfortable? He’d thought about it; his size, his demeanor, the fact that he’s not the man you’ve been around.

Everything’s changed since his… rebirth.

Life’s been hard and Jason doesn’t understand how to cope with the new set of incongruous events.

He sits across from you, a knee bouncing up and down under the table as you sit down.

You look at him expecting to start eating but find he’s not.

“Do you not like it?”

Along with his physique and mental health, you were afraid the liking to his most favorable things had changed, too.

He blinks in confusion. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He quickly realizes how that sounds.

“Wait, that’s not—” His eyes are wide, head shaking a bit in refusal with his hands up. “I meant, no, as in… I haven’t tried it yet.”

You don’t want to laugh but you think it’s kind of funny watching him trip over his words.

The mannerism brings you back to a kinder time.

“Are you nervous?”

His smile is a bit lopsided when he picks up the fork.

“A little..?”

You can’t tell if it’s a question but you nod, trying to make him feel as welcome as possible.

“It’s alright.” You assure. “This is all very new for you so, please don’t feel as though you have to be polite to make me feel better.”

You offer him an encouraging smile before looking away, afraid you’ll burst into tears.

He stares at you for a moment, a bit stunned at your kind and refreshing candor.

Jason begins eating and has to hold himself back from emitting sounds of surprise and approval.

As he chews, he thinks about the flavor. He believes the taste of the spices blended with the taste to be familiar but is doubtful.

“Have I…”

You look up at the beginning of his line of questioning.

“I feel like I’ve had this before.”

You hum and nod in agreement. “You have.”

You think about quoting him back to himself, hoping that would be a good start.

“You used to say it was one of your-”

“Comfort foods.” He completes.

The relief that fills your being makes your heart speed up in excitement.

There’s a glint of excitement in your eyes. One that could easily be characterized as hope.

Jason feels it, too.

When he takes another bite and lets the flavors melt on his tongue, he lets himself feel the precise taste you so carefully measured with your mind.

Jason wanted to stop by the local farmer’s market so you decide to get some laundry done.

You’re folding your clothes and are deep in thought about him.

There’s potential, you think. A lot of potential to recover lost memories and make new ones along the way.

It’s the matter of whether or not he wants to do them with you that has you stuck.

The hopeful side of you believes he’s stayed this far, surely he feels the same.

The rational part of you doubts it.

You can never find the same person twice, not even in the same person.

You think about the lost look on his face you catch at times. You see it when he thinks he’s hidden it well beyond your gaze. You see it when he’s all alone and has his mind to himself.

You’re afraid to lose him. Again.

Your vision blurs with the unshed tears pooling in your eyes and you look down to blink them away. They plop to the ground and you quietly sniffle, not wanting to break just yet.

There's an ache in your left shoulder blade and an insistent ruckus of doubt swirling in your head.

You can't sleep soundly anymore, not that you ever did since his death.

His death, you think.

It still hasn't hit you, that he's alive. He's here, in the flesh and in your home. You're able to talk to him, see him.

You remember how you'd piece your heart back together the next morning after letting it break the night prior.

You bite your tongue when the emotions overwhelm you, when you feel as though you'll die if you don't speak. So you bury those words deep in your journal, where ink meets paper and stays far away from his eyes.

Your eyes quickly gather more tears than you can keep from shedding and soon, you’re crying silently to yourself. For the umpteenth time.

It hurts. Your heart hurts and your throat hurts. Hurt is the only other feeling you’ve come close to familiarizing yourself with other than hope.

You don’t hear Jason’s motorcycle engine when he’s outside. You don’t hear his heavy footsteps mark their way onto your floor once like how they used to.

He stands outside but doesn’t have the heart to see you. Hearing how wrecked you are was enough.

It hurts him, not being able to remember from the jump but he knows how patient you are. How understanding you are.

He figures the most kindest souls are the ones that hurt the most.

So, he leaves. He spends another hour and a half out and decides to get you your favorite things.

Walking through the aisles, the plastic bags of grapes catch his attention the most.

“She loves these.” He says as he picks up the biggest, juiciest batch.

The assurance in his words gives him a confidence that rivals your doubt.

A short flashback of you munching away on the grapes as you study enters his mind.

You’re sitting by a windowsill and you’re typing away, pausing every few minutes to snack on the round fruit.

He smiles to himself and grabs a bag along with some sliced pineapples and mangoes.

“Cherries… with salt.” He hums to himself.

Yes, you like to eat your washed cherries with some salt sprinkled on top.

Jason chuckles as the memory of you whipping up that treat comes to mind.

He picks up a bag of those round, tangy red rubies and goes to checkout.

He’s practically buzzing with excitement as he can’t wait to see the look on your face when you see how much he’s gaining you back.

He returns with the sight of laundry done and put away, the dishes are washed and your lotus plant watered for the week.

But no sight of you.

Where are you?

Jason debates calling your cell.

Would it be weird?

You’re not his, well, anything. But you used to be.

Your caller ID tempts his thumb but he ultimately clicks off his phone.

You’ll show up sooner or later, wherever you are… right?

You’re a grown woman, you can take care of yourself.

His breath staggers in his throat at the thought of you by yourself.

What if some asshole creeps up on you? What if you run into some kind of problem but your phone’s drained? What if you get lost?

He groans as if the noise will silence those nightmarish scenarios. Jason’s hands pull at his hair and he paces back and forth in thought.

“Fuck it.” He grumbles.

He throws his black leather jacket on, keys and helmet in hand. Tying the laces to his boots, he twists the knob and opens the door.

“Y/n?!”

His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his skull.

Your eyebrows jump at his sudden shout, clearly not expecting this welcome.

“Umm… expecting someone else?”

He shakes his head vigorously, depicting a relieved expression.

You chuckle at him and step inside. Jason never takes his eyes off of you, he locks the door with muscle memory.

“No, God, no. I was just worried— where were you?”

You feel the butterflies swarm your belly at his concern.

“I had to throw the trash out and it wasn't too far so I didn't take my car.” You point at the small bowl by the door and sure enough, your keys are in there.

He follows the beeline from your finger and can only say one thing.

“Oh.”

Oh? Oh?? You were losing your mind over some simple chore and all you can say is ‘Oh.’?

Jason feels stupid.

How could he not try to look for the one obvious thing you can’t go anywhere without? Just jumping to the worst conclusions without thinking straight.

He chuckles in disbelief, bringing a hand to cover the top half of his face in embarrassment.

“I’m so fucking—”

“Altruistic.”

You knew he was going to berate himself in humiliation and think of himself as stupid or some second thing so you brought it upon yourself to dismiss that notion.

Jason is floored by your ability to see things in a different light, one that makes others orientate their original position.

He never thought about it that way. Not once did it occur to him that he was being thoughtful, caring, considerate. Altruistic.

It's true that he's a vigilante. An anti-hero, if you will. Protecting others and being altruistic are synonymous.

However, to him; it's a foreign concept to be on the receiving end. He thinks it's suffocating to be looked after as if he were a child. Especially when people (his father) do things that they (bruce wayne) deem best for someone (him).

Well, he used to up until a week and a half ago. Until you came along.

“Altruistic.” He repeats, feeling the word roll off his tongue.

“You know, the term used to describe people who go out of their way to do something for someone?”

You're only joking, playing around with him.

He sees it, though. He knows you're trying to lighten the mood because of what you don't know.

Jason just nods, a short chuckle sounding as he responds to your dry wit.

“Right, right. Yeah. I think I've heard of that somewhere.”

You laugh. You laugh and it feels nice. Probably because it's the first time you've truly laughed in some time.

Jason wants to encase some of your laughter in a jar and shake it around when he feels down.

It’s a lovely sound, he notes. Like a satisfying tinkering that makes your mind just slow down for a bit. Relax and take a moment to just breathe.

Your short huffs of air dissipate. “You catch on pretty fast.”

“That I do.”

If only you knew. he thinks. He wants to tell you that it's okay to cry, to let the part of yourself break and piece back. He wants you to know that you don't have to pretend nothing's wrong and that the obvious elephant in the room can be addressed.

Instead, he doesn't do either of those things. Jason doesn't think he's earned the right to reassure you of things like that. He doesn't think it's his place but oh, the irony.

Jason Todd feels like a 16 year old boy again.

Not in the sense of being immature, stupid, and reckless. More to do with the matter of his growing body and the feelings that come with it.

He’s big, huge, even. He knows he takes up more space than he means to occupy so he does what he thinks is the least he can do.

For example, he eats more than the average man so he insists on helping with the groceries by paying for them sometimes.

You argue, and boy do you lock it down; but it’s in vain when he looks at you with those deep eyes and mutters a small, ‘just let me do this for you’.

For me.

You’re weak when he asserts himself against your judgement.

He feels 16 again when you look at him with nothing but unwavering care and respect.

He used to get those looks, he remembered. Once upon a time where he wasn’t undead.

It was from the boy he respects the most; his older brother.

Jason started getting dreams since the first night he slept in your apartment.

Usually, he can’t sleep and when he did; he’d get nightmares. But not this time around.

He dreams of a time in the past, one where he’s not beating on a lowly thug or vice-versa.

It’s oddly bright but not blinding, the daylight fills in color nicely.

You’re sitting on a bed— he believes it to be your old one— and you’re making something out of nothing.

“Whatcha doin’?” You say without breaking eye contact from the scissors cutting a heart shape into the cardboard paper.

Jason registers you’re talking to him but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Is this real?”

You snort and shake your head.

“No, Jace. You’re in a sleep-induced coma and I’m the light that’s come to finally take you away.”

A wide grin has slowly etched itself onto his lips, it lifts his cheeks and creases his eyes.

He sees your excellent timing for witty quips is still there. He also notes the way you carry yourself around his presence. You’re relaxed, calm.

You’re still the same you.

He sits at the edge down of the bed and you look at him with offense.

“Why’re you sitting so far away?” You pout

“But I’m right here.”

You lightly groan and reach out to pull him closer to you, his knees touch your thigh and only then are you satisfied.

“Better.” You express to him.

Jason takes this moment to get a good look at you.

He’s sure you’ve grown into your features now, time and style enhancing your appearance.

Everyone changes physically but he realizes it’s the inside he’s looking for.

“Jay?”

“Hm?”

“Wake up.”

That makes his heart drop out of his ass. He nervously blinks. “What?”

You look at him like you know. Like you know he doesn’t belong here, in the past.

“Wake up.”

You say once again but your lips aren’t moving. Why aren’t your lips moving?

“Hey, Jason. Wake up.”

He sharply gasps when he sits up, soft pants escape his throat and you’re here.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” You reassure.

Your hands are on his shoulder and you’re sitting on the bed.

There’s a small nightlight plugged in beside the door to the bathroom and it illuminates your figure.

He makes out your face in the dark and once he realizes, he winds down.

“I couldn’t breathe.”

You nod. “I know. I was getting some water when I heard you wheezing.”

You were scared. You were worried and he knows it. He hears it in your wavering voice.

“I’m okay now.”

Jason doesn’t know why he feels the need to comfort you but he does.

Your hands aren’t on his shoulders anymore but he feels the warmth your touch leaves behind.

“I’m fine.” He murmurs again.

You just nod and get up to leave when his hand darts out to wrap around your fingers.

“…I had a dream. Er, nightmare? I dunno… A mix of both, I guess.”

You sit down and he wonders why he’s telling you this but the need to tell you overshadows his want to keep it inside.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

You hope asking him won’t trigger anything because the last thing you want is to be nosy.

“We were in your room, I’m pretty sure. You were younger, though. Fifteen.”

You recall the moments Jason would sneak in from your bedroom window in your youth. He was 16 and you, 15.

Good times.

“You were making something… I don’t remember what, exactly.” He squints and moves his hands around, trying to recall the events leading up to the imagery. “I heard your voice telling me to ‘wake up’ but your lips weren’t moving.”

He looks at you, coming to an understanding. “Because you were telling me to wake me up in real time.”

You look at him and can’t help but feel sad.

“I'm sorry” You whisper, not trusting your voice.

Instantly, Jason cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing the skin under your eyes tenderly.

“I’m not.” He assures. “If this is what has to happen to me to remember you then I'm fine with it.”

You close your eyes and sigh, your palms full with the bunched up material of your shorts.

He tilts his head closer to you, as if the distance is what's keeping you from truly seeing what's in his eyes.

“Look at me?” He gently asks.

You comply and he almost crumbles with how much you've managed to hide from him.

His eyebrows raise a little and come together in ruth. “Don't hide from me. Don't hide how you really feel.”

Jason doesn't know how he's doing this— touching you and saying all the right things. The words are just spilling out and for once, he can't stop himself.

Maybe because it's almost 3 am and that's when his tongue and spine meet; to relay all emotion without a hiccup. 3 am is when he's unabashed in his feeling, unafraid of his truth.

You stare. Your big, beautiful eyes pick at the spare parts of his woeful soul and you see. You see the windows of his soul tainted with an unimaginable sorrow.

“I can't.” You choke out.

How can you not hide yourself from him? How can you look at him and not want to open up your heart and let him see what's growing inside?

You're grief-stricken, he's melancholic. That isn't going anywhere.

“Y/n.” He implores you to reason with him. To give him a chance at witnessing you.

You feel like you’re drowning. You can’t breathe, your chest hurts and you feel your lungs constrict.

You can’t tell him how you really feel. He already feels guilty as is so how are you supposed to just let him read your mind?

To know how much you long for someone who can’t remember what you mean to them, to see how badly the lack of their presence has affected you.

Jason has no idea what realizing those things does to a person, what impact it’ll have on him.

He’s not ready.

“I… Good night, Jason.” You heave.

He watches you walk away, cutting him deep and leaving him to bleed dry.

The next morning can only be described as awkward. Tense awkwardness, actually.

There’s been no sign of you leaving your room since last night and it’s currently half past 2.

Jason hasn’t slept since you left the room. He was up all night evaluating all the possible outcomes from that point on.

Should he leave?

He knows you won’t ask him to but he wouldn’t abide by the request, anyway. He’s become selfish.

Yes, Jason Todd has grown accustomed to you and this little life of peace but he can’t be blamed. This is what he signed up for when he put a ring on it.

The ring. Your ring.

Now that he’s thinking about it, he’s seen you wearing it 24/7. Your left wedding finger is always donning the engagement ring, not once do you take it off.

Even when washing the dishes.

It is at this moment he has an epiphany. You were so close to letting your walls come down but seeing how afraid he was, painted in a foreign frame; you backed down.

He’s suddenly conscious of how much anguish you’re willing to put up with if it means for him to experience a minimal amount.

You want him to remember you without accepting the consequences of mental strain. You don’t want him to push past his anxiety, to make him face his fear of the unknown; but you’ll face your tears on your own.

A deep anger simmers inside him.

The amount of selflessness you’ve shown is incredibly unfair.

Isn’t marriage a united proposition? Isn’t his duty as your husband to make your problems his, to support you through all things good and bad?

You just backed away without giving him a chance to fully comprehend you.

How could you do that? Why did you do that?

Jason’s made a visceral statement in your life and he must know. He has to remember.

With a newfound confidence, he vows to try harder. He vows to push himself past the brink of frustration to remember you. He vows to do whatever it takes and replace that vacant look in your eyes with all those years of love and care.

He swings the door open and strides towards your bedroom. He knocks, a gentle rhythm of rapping. “Y/n? Are you there?”

He waits about 30 seconds before knocking and calling out your name again.

Nothing. No response.

Jason thinks about trying the knob but the last thing he wants is to scare you away.

Invading your privacy is a hard pass but he has to get through to you. He feels as if he’s running out of time.

In a desperate attempt to get a hold of you, he twists the knob but finds the space empty without you.

He goes to the bowl by the door and finds no sight of your keys but a sticky note, instead. Be back soon it reads.

Jason walks back to your room, standing in the middle of the doorway; unsure.

There’s a magnet inside that’s poking him, coaxing him to come in.

He knows he shouldn’t but would he find clues to a past life?

He tentatively steps inside, his eyes wandering around the interior.

Your color theme is fitting. Very you.

The walls are painted a nice color in coordination to your queen sized bedding. There’s a small bedside table with a couple of drawers with the most unique lamp he’s ever seen— a white lily of the valley flower and the bulb is inside!

It’s so you. He huffs out air through his nose and smiles.

He spots a halfway closed journal with a pen inside, marking a spot atop the desk.

No. I can’t.

But he wants to. He wants to know so bad what you’re really like. Who you are when you’re not performing for anyone else.

Jason wants to read the thoughts you keep buried so deep inside yourself, the secrets your heart closets. The pains your soul harbors.

But he can’t break the only trust he’s so worked so hard to build.

Jason runs his fingers across the spine of the book, feeling the embroidered thread run along.

There’s a poster above the table, one of your favorite movies.

A flash of color and sound hits his senses all at once. It looks like a memory of the movie.

Laughter, soft gasps, theatrical music to invoke foreboding feeling; only to be met with an emotional resolution from the unfortunate scene.

Tears run down your face as the beloved character faces his untime demise.

You couldn’t believe this. After all this time, all that character development, and he just… dies?

Jason doesn’t seem as tore up about it as you are but he feels for the character.

“He doesn’t deserve this.” You sniffle.

Jason nods, his arm around makes you close you in on his side and he rubs your arm up and down in a soothing manner. “I know.”

Jason exhales harshly, like he’d been holding a breath for too long.

He moves around, trying to find more things to jog his memory.

A glass jewelry box filled with pearls, gold, silver and rose gold jewelry catch his attention.

Where have I seen this before?

It’s like déjà vu except he can feel some kind of attachment to the object.

A finger lifts the lid and he finds a gold pole with a miniature ballerina glued onto it, separating the box into four sections.

“Happy birthday, Y/n!”

You’re surprised, of course a “simple dinner” wasn’t so simple. Nothing with Jason is, and that’s the beauty of being with him.

“Open my gift first!” Stephanie exclaimed.

You chuckled at her excitement and tore off the wrapping paper, ignoring everyone’s eyes gauging your reaction.

You softly gasp as the gift becomes visible, the beautiful glass case exceeding your expectations of a perfect jewelry box.

“Thank you, Steph.” You envelop her in a tight embrace, feeling oddly emotional.

“Welcome to the family.” She warmly congratulates.

It wasn’t official, not yet; but to be loved is to be seen. Feeling so loved by people who love Jason is fulfilling.

He watches as the two most important women in his life warm up to one another and he thinks of how blessed he is.

He blinks and is transported back into the present.

It’s working.

A joyous laughter exits his lips, the air filling his once empty lungs with a newfound hope.

A picture frame of you and him lies on your dresser.

He’s carrying you in his arms bridal style while your head is tipped back; an expressive look of joy on your face. He’s looking directly at the camera, donning a proud smirk in front of the apartment.

You two are in color while the rest of the background is in black and white.

There’s a small note at the bottom left, written in cursive. Congrats to our fav couple! with a smiley face next to it.

It’s like salt on the wound, seeing this photo.

He can feel his heart growing hands, scratching at the scar on his chest to be let out. To be freed from this torment of feeling.

The photo depicts everything he used to wished for, everything he had and everything that’s faded right now.

Your diamond ring shines brightly, competing with your smile and his eyes.

His index finger traces an outline of you and him. “I’m coming back to you.” He whispers.

You've been gone for quite some time, a little over 3 hours but you needed the time. You needed the hours to take a long reflection of the current state of things.

You kept thinking he wasn't ready but you realized that it was you. You weren't ready. Aren't ready? You don't know.

How does one find a way to cope with severe loss only for the pain and yearning to be diminished overnight.

Literally, overnight for you.

Events of last night come washing over your brain like a montage of your top 10 most embarrassing moments. It easily takes the place for #1.

You sigh, curling your fingers into your hair and gently tugging on them to punish yourself.

He didn’t deserve that. Just because you’re frightened of the future doesn’t mean he has to be on the receiving end of your cowardice.

You have to talk to him, to make this right.

You come back home at a reasonable time; right before you should start preparing for dinner.

It’s kind of dark, like a gloomy gray shadow blankets your living room.

But you see him. He’s sitting on the sofa waiting for your arrival.

“Jason.” You say his name so softly, he almost doesn’t hear it.

Another side effect from being baptized by the forbidden vat of acid are his attuned senses.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice is louder and clearer compared to yours.

“I know.” You nod.

“We need to talk.” He stands slowly, not wanting to alarm you.

“We do.”

“Then why don’t we?”

The desperation seeps into his throat but he doesn’t care. He can’t help it.

You shuffle your feet, feeling lighter on your steps.

“I’m afraid.”

Your admission is out of fear, anxiety, all things quiet. But it’s brave, sound, and all things hopeful.

Your sober judgement brings him closer to you.

“I can’t lose you again, Jason.”

You’re teetering on the edge of holding back and letting go.

He sees that.

Jason slowly brings his hands up, stopping at the length of your elbow. He’s still hesitant, wanting to touch you but nervous of the contact.

“You won’t.” He’s sure of himself. “I’m right here.”

He takes a hold of your elbows and his thumb subconsciously rubs up and down the skin.

You look into his eyes and all you see is the boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

He’s still in there.

“I’m trying. For you… for us.” He whispers the two-lettered word and it weighs heavy with the connotation.

“I just need you to throw me a bone.”

Despite the plea, he gives you a lopsided smile. One that shows he’s not annoyed or agitated with you.

And it makes you huff through your nose.

“Please?” He tries once more, a cute demeanor taking the place of his more serious tone.

You nod with pursed lips. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He whispers back.

You sit next to him on the sofa, sitting upright and where he can your side profile. Jason leans back in a small manspread.

“Where do you wanna start?” You ask.

Jason sits on this for a moment.

There’s so much he wants to know and at very different points in time. He thinks to tell you about his progress, the fleeting reels of the entire picture he envisioned.

Ultimately, he decides to have a go at the start.

“What was I like? To you, I mean.”

It shouldn’t surprise you that he asked one of the most obvious questions but it does. It surprises you because he hasn’t changed much.

You smile softly to yourself as time turns back. “You’re kind, gentle. Soft-spoken, loyal and so easy to talk to.”

He notices how you speak of him in present tense and not past like how he initially asked.

“You’re still the same.” You point.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

You tilt your head. “How do you mean?”

“I, uh.” He sighs deeply. “I don’t know how to go back to how things… were.”

It’s not an admission of guilt, so why does it feel like one?

“I don’t either.”

You bounce your knee, a subconscious habit.

Jason picks up on it though. Before he can control himself, it slips out.

“Stop that.”

You stop and meet his gaze.

He looks shocked at himself. “I- I’m sorry. I don’t know why... how—?”

“I do.” You say. “You used to say that when I’d get ahead of myself. In my thoughts.”

“In your thoughts?” He parrots.

You just nod enthusiastically, so happy with this sign of progress. “Yes! You could just tell what was going on with me.”

He nods, crossing one leg over the other.

“I didn’t mean to tell you to stop bouncing your leg.” He clarifies. “It just… it felt natural to say that.”

“It’s completely okay. I mean it.”

You titter and Jason thinks of wind chimes.

“What else?”

He hums in thought. “Our relationship.”

“I was fifteen and you, sixteen.”

Jason’s immediately reminded of his dream.

“Sorry to interrupt but was my dream real? Was that an actual memory?”

Your lips turn up at this attention to detail. “Yes. I was working on a project for my midterm and you came over to keep me company.”

“Woah.” He breathes. “We’ve known each other for that long.”

“Yeah, you asked me out a little after that and we’ve been together ever since.”

Jason thinks of his adoptive father. “Did Bruce know?”

You think of all the times you’d gone over to the mansion and acquainted yourself with its people.

“He said I was ‘probably the only good thing going’ in your life.” You quote his words and can’t help but feel a sadness for him.

You lost your lover, a piece of your heart. But he lost his son.

“Y/n?” Jason calls your name.

Your neutral expression shifts to that of being pulled from daydreaming.

“Yeah.” You blink.

Jason catches the swift switch up and wants to know if you’ll dodge him when he asks.

“Where’d you go just now?”

A lie sits on the tip of your tongue but you realize that you can’t keep him or yourself from the truth anymore. You can’t keep shielding yourselves from the inevitable reality.

“You made me think of Bruce.” You say honestly.

The man who’d gone to the ends of the Earth for vengeance. The man who was about to break his “no kill” rule.

Jason has yet to extend a helping hand in mending their fractured relationship. One person at a time he thinks.

“We got engaged young. I was nineteen.” You twist the ring around your finger.

“Was I romantic enough?”

His eyes are filled with mirth when your cheeks pull back and reveal your teeth.

Your smile is so beautiful. He takes a mental picture of it every time you show a variation.

The creases at the corners, the dimples, and lines all make your smile only that much better.

He wants to make you smile more. He’s so lost in the way your lips move that he forgets the original question.

“You proposed over a candlelit dinner at my favorite restaurant.”

He grows shy at the sentiment, hanging his head down and covering his face with a hand while his body shakes with mirth.

“Wow.” He muses.

You laugh at him, in the mood for some light teasing. “What, you getting shy Todd?”

His head snaps up at the fondness dripping from your tone at his last name. He’d never heard someone say his name like that before.

“No.”

He can deny it all he wants but the faint hue of red creeping up on his face says otherwise.

“You had the band play a song, too.”

You want to see if he can get this. It’s an incredibly important detail, one of which encompasses a very loving memory.

He racks his head around for this. A song. A song? There’s so many, which one could set the atmosphere for a promise of lifelong commitment?

Then, it’s like the whole room changes. An oil spill mirage of the restaurant paints the room.

You’re in a black dress, your hair’s done nice.

He closes his eyes and he can almost feel the air all those years ago.

The familiar melody of the tune rings in his ears and he knows he’s got it for sure.

Jason opens his eyes and is brought back to the present.

“The Flamingos.” He says.

It’s like he can still hear the song playing softly over conversation.

“I only have eyes…”

“For you.” You finish the lyric.

You two giggle, feeling silly and slightly awkward but it’s fulfilling. It’s like how it used to be.

He clicks his tongue, content with the shared experience.

“What about you?” He wonders.

“What about me?”

“Your life.”

Oh. Right.

Your eyelids flutter in a half-blink and suddenly the carpet is the most interesting thing in the world.

“My whole life fell apart. I didn’t know how to get through the day.”

I forgot how is left unsaid.

Jason eyes your mask slipping away.

“I was twenty when you were murdered.”

Murdered, he was murdered. That’s the truth.

The Joker was put away in jail for his crimes against humanity while Jason— your Jason— was lying the cold, hard ground. Barely breathing yet still alive

“I, uhh… quit college for a year. Couldn’t do it.” You pitifully chuckle at yourself.

You sharply inhale when your emotions come bubbling up to the surface again. “I eventually went back and finished my degree. Graduated cum laude at twenty-four.”

His eyes crease as his pride and joy defied the odds for her life. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you.” You shyly grin.

He drums his fingers along his knees.

It occurs to you that despite your life’s lost momentum, the momentum on Jason’s life picked up faster than it ever had.

“And you?”

He doesn’t expect to be interviewed. “What about me?”

“What were you doing for the past four and a half years?”

Sweat forms under his palms and he subconsciously rubs them along his pajama pant clad thighs. Jason feels his face turn warm, he prays the redness doesn’t bloom along his cheeks.

“…I’d rather not talk about that.”

You give him a knowing look. “Jason.”

He winces, an eye closing while he sucks in air from his teeth. “Why do you sound like an upset mother?”

An incredulous laugh bubbles in your throat. “I'm not upset, just don't want you pulling a me."

He relents. “Okay, okay, alright. Fine, you win.”

He deeply sighs, rubbing his eyes and you turn your body to fully face him. You're legs are crossed and you sit up straight.

“You know Talia al Ghul.”

You nod, Damien’s mother isn’t exactly a popular subject but he is.

“She resurrected me using the pit and brought me back to train under the League of Assassins and the All-Caste.”

He was training for all those years?

“Training… for what?”

A grim expression overtakes his features. “I wanted to kill Bruce because I thought he left me to die.”

Pity is the last thing he wants but you can’t help but feel bad for him. He was tortured for so long, in the worst ways possible only to be mislead like that in the end.

“And now?” You hope he’s changed his mind.

“I’ve changed my mind.”

You unknowingly smile. “Okay. Yeah, that’s good.”

“I spent the last six months focusing solely on being a vigilante.”

“A vigilante.” You repeat.

Yes, you know there's more than what he's letting on but you want to hear his story from him. Isn't that what people who care for the other do?

“Yeah, I took care of the bad guys and started a little side hustle of my own.” He says it like it's no big deal

“I wouldn't call being a drug slash crime lord a ‘little’ side hustle.”

Jason's face blanks, he pales as you reveal the overall tone behind his cryptic message.

“You know.”

“Dick told me after he showed up with you.”

His eyes seemed to look right through you.

For the first time, you couldn't tell what was going on with him. You could no longer discern the distinction between his feelings and thoughts.

“Don't be mad. Please.” Your bargain comes rushing out.

“I'm not mad,” He voices in a hushed manner. “...’m just thinking.”

“Tell me.” You hesitantly put a hand on his. "I want to know what you're thinking."

A deep breath is sucked into his lungs. “I'm thinking about how much I want you.”

You dart back and forth between his eyes. He watches as your irises move between his slightly changed ones but contunues.

“I'm thinking about how someone like you can be with someone like me.”

He shifts his body slightly in your direction, wanting to close this space.

“I’m thinking about how despite everything, I've changed in more ways than one and you've still remained the same.”

“That's not true.” You shake your slightly.

“But it is, Y/n. My senses are heightened, my body isn't the same. I-I’m constantly feeling like I’m missing something and yet you're still here.”

Why wouldn't you be?

“Why, Y/n? Why haven't you given up on me?”

The answer to his questions are simple because it's the same answer. Yet, you're finding it difficult to say it it this moment.

“Why did you stop me from shutting you out?” You ask instead.

He stares at you, contemplating blurting out the thoughts and feelings that have plagued him since epiphany.

“Because I...”

You lean into him. “Because you?”

Jason looks away and shuts his eyes, trying to contain his brain running on a hundred thoughts per second.

“I… care about you, okay? And I’m not the same man I was before but I care.”

Your hands slide on top of his and the coldness of his knuckles diminish as your warmth spreads. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Tears fill your eyes and he melts. His eyebrows furrow and forms a wrinkle.

“I hate it when you cry.” He says as his palm encompasses the back of your neck and he pushes you into his shoulder.

You hold his arms as you sniffle lightly into his bicep as his other hand rubs your back up and down.

“I know you’re different but he still lives inside you. I can see it.”

Jason thinks about that. Is it possible?

If you didn’t change so much then could it be that there’s a chance for him to connect to that version of himself?

It was never about going back. It was never about denying his existence now and stick who he was onto his back.

It’s always been about adapting to change. Learning to let go what doesn’t serve you and accepting that with time, you must change, too.

Jason may recover the lost pieces of who he used to be but he still has to learn who he is.

“We can make new memories.” Your watery voice croaks.

You sit back and look at him, really take your time to absorb this moment. Him. Us.

“It doesn’t matter how long it takes for everything to come back. We can still make the best of what we have now.”

He stares at you and knows you’re on the same plane as him. You always were.

He cups your face and tilts your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your head. You close your eyes at his touch.

“We will.”

[hazamacore]

Hey!! It's kaisturntoshine (aka that one person that made long responses to your Eloise and Desmond essay) from my main blog.

I was thinking about Wolfgang's first interaction with Desmond (the "you haven't killed anyone with these weapons" one) and it reminded me of how differently Wolfgang treated Eloise in comparison:

... I thought I had a point to make with this but nope. Or, well, I do have a rough idea of what I meant to explain but I'm too sleep deprived to properly articulate it.

HIII and yeah I think this observation is basically telling us immediately and outright how these two contrast each other with this theme of "judging by appearance"!!! You are absolutely right to point it out because it is SUCH a stark contrast.

...Somewhat related and connecting this to Wolfgang and Damon - we have Wolfgang who extends sympathy and understanding towards Eloise who he perceives as in need of additional support due to her being more outwardly affected, but who suspects and consistently undermines Desmond (reaction to his thoughts on exploring the Alpha Sanctuary, reaction to his bunking idea EG) without any basis besides his talent despite Desmond's pretty open support of him and despite how Desmond was one of the only ones to validate his feelings during the mock-trial.

Comparatively, we have Damon who extends understanding to Desmond and views him as the most "normal" person here, and whose distrust of him can be put down to Average Damon Behaviour rather than the bias others show, and he quickly concedes that it's not productive - EG in the pharmacy after Desmond expresses a wariness around the sleeping pills being readily available and Damon initially says "you're already thinking of ways to murder?" but proceeds to agree with Desmond's reasoning and again label him as the Most Normal Guy Here, or in his FTEs where parallels are drawn between their work ethics and relationships with their talent, not to mention how Damon is suspected in a similar vein to Desmond but for much more personality-based reasons. Conversely, Damon doesn't understand Eloise (who doesn't really do much to help him understand her because she doesn't like him lol) and it's through his interactions with her that we see how the "judging by appearance" theme presents in her character! Most glaringly in the chapter one investigation where he doubts Eloise's ability to stand up to Grace and proceeds to be utterly proven wrong - him describing the Ultimate Fencer as "uncoordinated" and "bumbling" really lays it bare lmaooo as she takes Grace down in one fell analytical swoop, just like she asserted fencing is all about.

So it's sort of like one foil dynamic making another foil dynamic more apparent... Wolfgang takes Eloise and Desmond at face value, whereas Damon (more hostile in tone on Eloise's end for sure) becomes privy to their deeper layers. Which is FASCINATING considering Wolfgang and Damon present themselves and would have you assume the opposite! Beneath the veil of hypocrisy anyone...

And, on an additional note, I do think it's safe to say that Wolfgang had a more vested interest in the well being of the women overall! And more of an innate respect for them. #feminist but seriously a good example of this again related to Desmond (because he can't catch a break I guess? Desmond get behind me) is comparing how he doesn't level the same accusatory question at Ingrid after learning she works with swords as he does towards Desmond after learning he's a marksman which becomes ESPECIALLY blatant when you note that Desmond and Ingrid's relaying of their abilities has almost the exact same structure - "Not just swords, but tools, armour, statues...If you name it, I can forge it." / "Guns, bows, slingshots... You name it, I've hit bullseyes with it." Of course, only Desmond's talent indicates that he uses these weapons, but it's still a hell of a leap to make with energy Wolfgang really doesn't level at anyone else as consistently, which is my point.

It's interesting stuff EEEEE I LOVE the writing of these characters they are ALL so multidimensional!!! THANK YOU FOR THE OPPORTUNITY TO RAMBLE

[pinky-the-bunny]

Tea party. Ft. Ink sans made by comyet

"thank you again for having me for this tea party. But may I ask...why did you invite me here? Don't you usually not invite people here?"

The strange skeleton picks up his coffee and drinks it, enjoying the taste as he looks at ink with a 'sweet' smile.

"Why should there be a reason? I just wanted to talk to one of my sons is all."

"Oh? Am I your favourite or something?" Ink says that with a bit of a chuckle.

The strange skeleton stares at him without a word for a few seconds before ink laughs a bit.

"I'm just joking around, john doe. I still find it flattering how you chose ME instead of someone else. Don't you like dust sans a lot?"

"I do...but he doesn't really like me so, it would be kind of awkward for me to ask him. You're much more nicer...to a fault."

"How so?"

"You're talking to a murderer."

"Fair point."

Ink takes a sip of his tea. It was golden flower. He guesses john doe took that from undynes place for this tea party. John doe spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

"How's the tea by the way? I'm not really a fan myself and i didn't have any back home."

"Its good, too bad for the human though. They would've loved this."

John doe stays silent. They both stay silent until ink asks john doe a question.

"How was your day, john doe?"

John doe started to smile even wider.

"it was great. I had a talk with my outbound sons. It was nice. :)"

Ink sanses eyes shined.

"I LOVE THOSE GUYS! they are so fun to be around."

"Yeah. They are."

"is it okay if I ask you another question?"

"Of course, son."

"Is it true you're waiting for someone to kill you?"

John doe stays silent after that question for a few minutes, than he simply answers:

"Yes"

"Why is that? Not a lot of people want to be killed by someone."

"I don't want to be killed just by anybody, I want to be killed by my own son."

Ink is quiet as john doe speaks more.

"Ever since the first time I've met the " bad sanses", I've been fascinated by the idea of being killed by a sans. Maybe even a papyrus. Its... an odd thought to have I will admit, but its almost poetic justice to me. I killed "them", they kill me."

Ink says nothing.

"I know, its a bit hard to say what I mean. But I don't think it needs to make sense. I am a bit mad in the head ever since I took over sanses body."

"I see..." Ink simply says, and they go back to drinking their tea and coffee.

"son... Since you asked me some questions, can I ask you one?"

"Sure! Go ahead."

"What do you think of me?"

"Oh! Wow, really?"

"Sorry, is it a hard question to answer?"

"No, I'll answer. Its just...not a lot of people like my answer."

"I understand."

Ink puts down his tea and breaths in and out slowly, before he answers john doe's question.

"I see you as a character. A drawing or a line of texts in a story. Every move you do, every dialogue you say in your speech, that's just how your character is written to say or do to me. Now don't get me wrong, you are certainly a piece of work. A father who possess one of his children and kills everyone else because they forgot of his existence is...fascinating to me. Especially with how you seem to be friends with people you casually threaten, all the while you kill other sanses and papyrus just because you felt like it. Even if it is rare. You're definitely an interesting one, John doe."

John doe goes silent again, looking at his reflection in the coffee and looks back at ink.

"What a grey view you have, ink. But I don't blame you at all. Because to me..."

He leans over towards ink, smiling very wide as he speaks in a low tone.

"You're just a clone of my dead son to me. :)"

Ink laughs at that.

"I guess our views are both horrible, huh?"

John doe sits back down on his chair.

"Maybe. But it makes us Interesting like you said, right?"

"Yeah"

They than continue on with their tea party, eating snacks and drinking coffee and tea like two casual friends.

John doe takes a biscuit from a tray and hands it to ink with a smile.

"Want one, son? :)"

[dayntee]

I have very strong opinions about disaster wizards, and especially THIS MOTHERFUCKER:

Listen, if you haven't played Pillars of Eternity, I understand. It's a bit niche unless you're like us olds who grew up on real-time-with-pause CRPGs in the 90's and early 00's (namely the original Baldur's Gate, BG2, Icewind Dale, Planescape: Torment, and Neverwinter Nights). That type of gameplay appeals to a veeeeeery particular crowd of people, and if you weren't either super into the Forgotten Realms or D&D in general, it likely wasn't your bag.

THAT SAID - with Avowed coming out next week, I need to gush about one of my favorite fantasy worlds and its disaster wizard because I just love this stupid man so much.

Mild spoilers for Pillars of Eternity and Deadfire ahead:

Eora is a fantastically interesting world. It has some of the most unique fantasy races to play and explore, it leans into its darkness and philosophy hardcore, and it takes a look at gods and says "What's that, you pretentious fucks? Sit your asses down, you have no power over me."

The combat and mechanics system is intricate and complex, but vaguely familiar if you've played any form of tabletop RPG. It does its own thing while still being reminiscent of stats and mechanics with which you're likely familiar. If you're the kind of person that likes to theorycraft their character into a fine-tuned murder machine, you will like this system. If you aren't, that's fine too - there's an option to take all the thought out of the process and let the game level you up itself so you don't have to worry about it and can just roll around doing story stuff.

Pillars of Eternity had a friendship (but not romance) system, which sets you up to have the best found-family adventure with total nutjobs that also has more Matt Mercers than you can shake a stick at (seriously, if you pick a male PC and the right voice option, within the first 20 minutes, your party can be composed of exactly three Matts). It deals with your character, known as the Watcher, getting the world's worst split personality syndrome and having to hunt down the mystery behind why babies are suddenly being born with no souls.

Stick with me, this ride is WILD.

After you resolve this pretty inconvenient global cataclysm, you settle down in a keep you acquire during the course of the adventure, only for a god to wake up between game 1 and 2 in your basement and *checks notes* CRUSH YOU TO ALMOST-DEATH.

Oh, and he also takes a part of your soul. For funsies!

Berath, the god of death, offers to restore you to life to figure out what basement-god (Eothas) has planned so long as you agree to be their herald. While you can say no, that just ends the game, so your will to live means you're in on this whole thing and now you get to sail a boat to do it, for reasons, I guess.

Several of the companions from the first game reappear in this one, but to keep on topic, the most important one is Aloth. Why?

BECAUSE NOW YOU CAN WOO THIS ASSHOLE AND THE ANGRY SCOTTISH LADY THAT LIVES INSIDE HIS HEAD.

Aloth is one of my favorite disaster wizards because he has all my favorite tropes just... built right in:

Crippling self-confidence issues

A "split personality" (it's more complicated than that) that is both mortifying and also potentially one of the best characters in the game

A maker of Generally Bad Choices™

Canonically bisexual

Entirely non-committal (at least without a lot of work)

A PAIN IN THE ASS TO ROMANCE

I say these are my favorite, but they're really just all the qualities that every other disaster wizard I've ended up falling for tend to have in some way. Aloth just winds up having them all, wrapped up in a handsome elven package, and then voiced by Matt Mercer because fuck me in particular, I guess, god damnit.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my TED talk on why Aloth is amazing and more people need to romance this jerk. I say this with nothing but love—it's 100% worth it, even when he's breaking your heart (or his romance flag is bugged and you have to roll back three hours to fix it AHHAHAH GOD WHY).

Should you want to read along with the general flow of my head canon for my own playthrough, which is a helluva slow burn will they/won't they extravaganza, you can find the largely completed series here on AO3. There's even smut now!

Back to Solavellan Hell with me.

[bibibbon]

Now about Tenya:

. Tenya is practically known for being punctual, but in an exaggerated way, since he always does everything to arrive at the place at the promised time, so much so that he is one of the first students to arrive at school. He ends up criticizing those who are late, only earning annoyance from his classmates, something he does not understand.

. Tenya has a huge idolization of his brother, Tensei. But Tensei is a little bothered to see his brother treating him like a god, he is always trying to get Tenya to stop this exaggerated admiration. This is also noticed by their mother.

. Tenya is autistic and has an OCD when it comes to keeping everything organized, to the point where he gets really irritated by people who are disorganized. A fact is that when he was a child, he almost had a breakdown when he noticed the whole room was messy after the art activity. He always leaves his belongings and clothes organized. He says he wants to leave everything ready for tomorrow.

. Tenya doesn't have a good relationship with his father, a former hero and head of the Ingenium Agency. This is because his father puts excessive pressure on his son, in addition to setting goals that Tenya does everything he can to achieve. One fact is that Tenya got an 8 on a math test and his api didn't speak to him for a week. As for his mother, she always wants to please him, and comfort Tenya while he cries and vents about his father's pressure, which always ends with her preparing hot chocolate and cookies for him.

. Tenya doesn't have many friends, only Ochako and Izuku at middle school, since he's always criticizing and trying to bring order, making his classmates tired of his attitudes, something that makes no one want to come to him to talk or ask him out. Tenya doesn't understand this, besides it hurts him a lot.

. Tenya always carries two spare glasses in case he breaks or loses the one he is using. He also always carries orange juice in his backpack during physical activities.

. Tenya does a lot of artistic gymnastics, which explains his muscular body and how good he is at jumping and falling. He soon gains a training partner (Izuku), since he also does this type of sport, requested by All MightStar.

. Tenya and Izuku didn't start off on the best of terms, as Izuku was incredibly able to answer questions faster than Tenya, and also got a higher grade than Tenya. This resulted in Tenya seeing Izuku as a rival, but they soon came to an understanding and became friends.

. Tenya is still amazed when he sees All MightStar in the living room of Izuku's house, especially when he sees him cleaning and carrying a basket of clothes. Izuku always laughs at Tenya's reactions.

What do you think? (Sorry for the long asks, I'm glad you're interested in my rewrite)

Hi @lorddog45 👋

I love how you're sticking to Tenya's Canon characterisation, making him a die-hard rule follower because he thinks and has been taught that it's both the best and right thing to do. I wonder how you would choose to present his conflict when he does learn that said rules aren't always the best at protecting people and aren't always the right thing.

I love the Canon focus on just how much tenya admires his brother, and I hope that with this admiration, we get to see more of tensei and how tensei feels about the hero world in general. Do you think tensei would try and sheild his brother, lead him to believe that nothing can go wrong if rules are followed? Do you think after tensei's attempted murder that he would be more honest with tenya and give him advice about the cruelty and dark truths of hero society?

The autistic and ocd tenya headcanons are to die for!!!! I always headcanoned him as autistic so I'm glad to see that others think this as well.

Tenya and shoto parallels!!! The strict father who holds way too much over the child's head drowning them in expectations that will most likely hinder and squander their potential in the processs. I am surprised that tenya still wants to be a hero after all of this maybe that's a nice contrast he has to shoto who until izuku convinced him and reminded him of why he enjoyed all Might didn't have much feelings to becoming a full fledged hero that would use both his quirks to their fullest potential

Desire for order and peace but also the desire to be seen as friendly and good clashing with tenya. Tenya not understanding how him simply wanting to do what he believes is good is harming him and everyone else.

This is Canon to me!!! Tenya does indeed carry and have a stack of glasses that he just knows he will need them because of the amount of times he has broken his glasses and he keeps a few bottles of orange juice that he sometimes ends up giving to ochako or izuku

Artistic gymnastic tenya!!!! Never thought of that but it makes sense and izuku getting inspired and becoming his partner is such a great idea and mirrors Canon how izuku was inspired by tenya's flexibility on how he moved his legs and started to incorporate that in his hero fighting style. I feel like ochako would join them as well and they would start to mesh both ballet and gymnastics

Tenya and izuku one sided rivalrly from tenya who thinks izuku is trying to one up him and also admires izuku while izuku just thinks tenya hates him and sometimes gets reminded of bakugo

Tenya being an all Mightstar fan and forgetting that his friend has all mightstar as their adopted parent mirror's izuku and how much he loves heroes and how izuku would definitely go into an analytical fan ramble whenever he meets tensei

[quimichi]

TW: obsessive behavior, talk about self harm, death, gore, blood, corpses, choking, talk about you being dead, bleeding, bro there's so much - MDNI

SUMMARY: A twisted boy with a twisted mind and a twisted love just for you ♡

CHARACTERS: Yandere x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 841

𓉸ྀི  Never EVER was Blake expecting to fall in love. At first sight too. He saw you and was instantly captured. My condolences, because with him in your life...it'll be turned upside down

𓉸ྀི You're his newest, recent hyperfixation, or better, obsession. Recent? Well, since he ever saw and read this short story in the internet, about death, killing, blood and guts, he was forever obsessed with it. Especially the graphic pictures that we're added for the "realism'. You see, one click on a link and a wrong turn can lead you down a dark alley filled with the darkest mysteries hold by internet. Hidden from those who would never dare step that far into an alley like this. Bit inviting and interesting to those curious enough to take a look...and forever be captivated.

𓉸ྀི with 12 year's old, exactly that happened. This weird 'dare' and a link went around school and of course 12 year olds are gonna jump on it like hungry wolves. His friend send him the link, he was dared to open it and take a look, but was to scared. So he send Blake the link also, so they can both take a look. Shared fear is only half the fear, right?

𓉸ྀི While his friend was throwinh up beside his bed, he kept scrolling. And scrolling...and scrolling. Weird...this doesn't affect him, at least not like his friend. Or how he thought it would. Everyone kept saying its gross, creepy and...twisted. Its odd that he, likes it.

𓉸ྀི His friend claimed he suddenly felt sick, so his mother picked him up. None of them wanted to raise suspicion of course...But the whole night long, Blake kept looking at the pictures over and over again, he read the story multiple times. He probably still knows it all word for word till this day. But what really captured his interest was that woman, how she looked in her own blood bath. Her guts hanging out, everywhere but inside her. Is this real? No it can't be right? No one would ever...

𓉸ྀི when he saw you, he saw that woman. You both look so similar. Maybe the eye color is a bit off, yours are a tiny bit darker but thats ok, you look just like her! Damn, even the hair!...he can't help but wonder if you would...no that's an unhealthy thought

𓉸ྀི he's 18 now, and for 5 years he was in the dark web looking for stories, pictures and videos like this to feed his constant hunger and need for more blood and gore. But he still knows, murder is wrong. But knowing is something else than doing. They both can go hand in hand, the only thing that's holding them both away from each other is the wall called self control.

𓉸ྀི He does have this wall, it just has multiple holes in it. Blake was no stranger to act on his impulsive thoughts. He cuts his arms sometimes when he wants to feel the pain or see the blood. He even tried the 'save way of cutting your wrist', the thrill of almost dying did send him over the edge....The research did help of course. He even tried choking himself, but that does not really do much for him unfortunately, there's nothing hot to it besides the bruises he left on his neck.

𓉸ྀི But right now the wall he trained to stand against the army of his running thoughts is about to crumble by just looking at you. You'd look so great in red, a deep dark red surrounding you...oozing out of y-no-! This is wrong-! He knows you're so so much more than a body, than a corpse. You have personality...damn you really look like you have a great personality.

𓉸ྀི...w-wait-you looked his way-! WHY ARE YOU SMILING AT HIM-! Was he looking at you this entire time?? Ugh, hes such a creep-! Yes, he knows he's one but he doesn't have to act like one to make it obvious- He's so weird, he doesn't deserve you, he would NEVER deserve you. The only thing that deserves him would be the maggots and the mould, eating his decomposed cadaver.

𓉸ྀི If it's not him, than it's definitely your smile that killed him right there and now, on spot. He's disgusting why are you looking like him. Why do you show interest. Why is he smiling back. And why does he really feel the need to hold you in his arms, and kiss you. A kiss that would probably be the beginning of cannibalism. Drag his mouth and theeth across your chest to taste your beating heart...if he thinks like this then living can be beautiful, and so are living things. I mean...you are most definitely beautiful. And you're alive.

𓉸ྀི But you'd be just as pretty dead, rotting and overcome with mould, having flys around you while your body drys out and sinks....but yeah you're maybe even a tiny bit more beautiful alive. (Much more but he can't say it just yet)

TAGLIST: @lucienbarkbark @hehothrowawayfae

[thehollowwriter]

Morrigan: A Rough summary

I sent this to a moot and decided I'd share a break down of the the Morrigan Lore TM

Right so, firstly, like Silas and Finn, Morrigan is a cookie cutter shark. Though Silas is an abyssal cookie cutter shark, and he's just a coastal one. He and his family are like Azul and the tweels, they're more animalistic, they're not the pretty, humanlike Ariel-like mermaid that many come to think of when they hear the term "mermaid" or "merfolk"

Now, my interpretation of twst (mostly through Azul's story) is that human culture and beauty standards heavily influenced merfolk and their culture, eventually resulting in features like webbed hands, sharp teeth and claws, and other animalistic features being deemed as barbaric and undesirable.

The general idea of mers like Finn, Azul, etc, is that they are stupid, wild, dangerous/murderous, and more creatures than people. This stereotype especially extends to abyssal mers like Silas (it's part of why some merfolk flat out refuse to by from him)

Now, in twst it's pretty clear that magic dictates your standing in society, and often those with powerful magic are "higher" up the social ladder. This too applies to merfolk, and when you're monstrous creatures like Morrigan and his family, the best you can hope for is major success and glory.

Morrigan has several siblings, and out of all of them he was the oldest and the one with the most powerful magic. His parents realised they basically had a child prodigy on their hands, and this led to him basically being in a Riddle-type situation.

He was their trophy, their showpony, far outshining his siblings and essentially "overcoming" the monstrous-ness that everyone hates with his skill in magic. Don't think he liked the attention, though, his parents' praise was very conditional and he didn't exactly get himself in their favour when trying to protect his siblings from them. Despite his efforts, his siblings are still incredibly jealous of him and kinda don't like him :(

Now with this upbringing, naturally he has an intense strive to be the absolute best of the best. Master every spell, win every duel, ace every test. Like Riddle, he has a LOT of anger due to his treatment and situation, but unlike Riddle this anger caused him to frequently get into violent fights with his schoolmates and come home bruised and bloodied.

At NRC, this got worse. At first he was well behaved like Azul or Riddle would be, but eventually he realised he no longer had his parents breathing down his neck.... and just kinda went batshit.

Now, he's wasn't a complete asshole constantly all the time. In fact many found him charming, handsome, too. However he was a bit of a bully and easily angered, and when he got angry enough he got extremely violent. He beat the ever loving shit out of his own dorm leader, and part of the reason he was almost expelled was because when fighting with some guy, he tried to bite their throat (reminder his teeth are like the tweels...)

In his third/fourth year tho, he was kinda like "Well shit I don't think this is good for me" and started working on being better.

When he began looking for internships, he wasn't sure what to do. His parents just wanted him to do "something important", they didn't care all that much as long as it brought in a lot of money and recognition and didn't make them look bad.

Everyone told him he should be a magishift player, police, etc, etc, but he wasn't interested in any of that.

However, through some self assessment he realised he did work well with kids and they always liked him, and he was food at teaching/helping his friends study, so he thought "Hey, why not teaching?"

He ended up teaching at a magic school for gifted merfolk, and the reason is because all of them are "gifted kids," and he didn't want them to suffer and struggle like he did. That is a very important job. His parents were not impressed, but it could be worse and he was stubborn, so they "allowed it" (even though he's an adult wtufjasgj)

As he got older, he developed better control over his temper, but he would still get violent if REALLY mad.

And then he met Silas, and they do try to kill each other upon first meeting :P. They fall in love, get married, and have kids, but Morrigan is murdered before they- (well, just Finn) are born.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @jewelulu

[lattedecoffee]

Finished Emio – The Smiling Man: Famicom Detective Club aka FMC3 or just Emio and holy shit that was a roller coaster.

Gameplay definitely feels updated from the 2021 remakes but not so much that it feels like a different game.

Those characters holy shit. Kamihara had frat boy vibes during his first scene but his voice actor was so good I started growing attached anyway and eventually started shipping him with the protag (Taro Ninten is the closest we have to a default name).

Taro has two hands: one for Ayumi and one for Kamihara. Anyway here's a break before I do spoilers.

Okay before I talk about the climax and especially the epilogue I want to call out Junko Kuze for trying to murder me and then stealing my fucking boyfriend. I love her and she's a fascinating character but she married Taro's boyfriend and I'm salty about it.

Okay so that ending. I had figured out that Makoto thought he was Minoru but I wasn't sure if he had some amount of amnesia or if Emio had fucked with his mind. Turns out it was mostly the amnesia but Emio certainly didn't help matters. Although it wasn't as intentionally malicious of a thing as I originally thought given...

When the game basically had Utsugi go "yeah the epilogue's gonna be real fucked up so make sure you're ready before you start it" I was concerned. The game hadn't provided a content warning before this point so I wondered what could be so severe that they'd provide one now. Watching it basically right before bed was probably a bad idea but somehow I had no nightmares (I did have an irrational "what if Emio's in the dark hallway" that made me use my phone flashlight more than I usually would but that's typical for me with horror games. Happened when I watched Markiplier play FNAF all those years ago but I handled it much better as an adult than as a child).

It was tragic and certainly extreme but the things that happened to Minoru never felt unrealistic. A child drowning as part of her effort to escape her abusive father, her older brother killing their father, and said older brother delusionally believing she was somehow still alive all feels like it could be a real story. The key here is that nobody ever stepped in to help Minoru. People recognized there was a problem all the way back when the father's abuse ramped up but nobody ever stepped in. The juvenile detention center heard him talk about Emiko as if she was still alive and did nothing. The Todorokis never pried into his personal life, which is generally a good and respectful thing to do, but we know he will open to people he trusts given he told Ayaka everything about his past. Ayaka was really the only person who tried but she was 17 and already going through a lot herself. She did seem to be helping him open up but once he saw she was being physically abused he projected Emiko onto her and only spiraled downward from there.

And yet despite all of this Utsugi reminds you what this guy actually did. He killed Ayaka after she freaked out at seeing him kill her abusive father (she also hated the guy but seeing your older brother figure kill someone with no remorse is understandably terrifying). He killed two more girls the same way simply because they were scared of him. He kidnapped a now amnesiac Makoto and told him they were both Minoru Tsuzuki and needed to find Emiko. He almost killed again 18 years later only to have his head bashed in by Makoto who had finally remembered who he was thanks to Junko's bookmark. I'm skipping over a lot of things but suffice to say the man ruined a lot of lives. His backstory is not an excuse nor does it mean he should be forgiven. It explains why he did these things and shows us how to avoid similar events.

As for Junko, I love her story. You can understand why she said she knew nothing even though it was in her and her brother's best interest for her not to lie. You understand why she makes Eisuke's suicide look like the murders from 18 years prior. You understand why she goes to the abandoned village alone. You understand why she claims to have killed Minoru. You understand why she threatens Taro's life for Makoto's sake. And yet all of those choices were awful. Had she not lied, her brother's disappearance would have been looked into for much longer as it was now a kidnapping. She stole a suicide note and hid it from everyone, including the victim's family and friends. She shuts Kami out of her investigation and leaves both him with doubts he doesn't want to acknowledge (hence why he lashes out at Taro for pointing out all the reasons Junko's behavior is suspicious). She threatens to kill someone who only showed up because he believed she was in danger. She knows all of this was wrong and it's clear the guilt has been eating her alive, especially after what she did to Eisuke's death. She apologizes through tears while holding Taro at gunpoint and after explaining herself to him still can't go through with pulling the trigger. She just wants her older brother back and was doing anything she could. And while she does have him back, he's going to need a lot of support through physical rehab, hopefully intensive therapy, and a reintroduction to society (he was going into town but pretty much only to do construction work and then leave). And she has to apologize to Eisuke's family and friends. And to Taro, though he doesn't seem to be holding a grudge. Also "I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience I may have brought to your lives" is the funniest way to genuinely apologize for almost murdering someone.

Many characters in the game have been through some sort of childhood trauma. Our protagonist, Ayumi, Junko, Makoto, Minoru, Ayaka, Megumi, Eisuke, Kohei, Mama Shoko, and more. Only Minoru ends up being a serial killer. Only Junko and Makoto do terrible non-murder things. All the rest of these characters do nothing of the sort. Some acquire the supports of both peers and the adults around them, others manage to pull through largely on their own, and some we will never know how their story would have gone as it ended far too soon (either of their own volition or not). The game never says that childhood trauma = doing awful things. The game warns that ignoring signs that someone, especially a child, is not okay will often end in tragedy. Someone has to step in. Only a few people are obligated to intervene, but if the people who are supposed to intervene don't or are part of the problem then someone else must.

Eisuke's friends believe he committed suicide until they're told the crime scene doesn't match that. And yet they were right. They were the only ones who noticed something was wrong, but neither of them were able to do anything besides ask him if he was okay (he'd lie and say he was).

One last thing before I stop writing because wow this post is long: I love how Fukuyama was genuinely just a good guy with negative people skills. I was so worried he was doing something to Megumi and finding out that his response to her confession was to try to turn her down gently while clarifying that he did care about her as a teacher is supposed to care about their students. He didn't succeed in explaining that to her and she ended up assuming the harshest possible interpretation, but she seemed to already have a very concerning view on love (someone doesn't return her romantic feelings and her next question is "do you hate me?") so I'm not sure even the best possible wording could've helped there. As for him and Ayumi, it's up to interpretation whether he's interested in her romantically or not, but I choose to see it as him seeing her as his first student to grow up. He never formally taught her, but he was her upperclassman in naginata club. So she's the first person who he helped teach that he gets to see thriving as an adult. And now they're functionally peers, with her being able to comfort him about how Eisuke's death is not his fault as he had no way of knowing how things would go and made the best choices he could (he also literally saves Megumi + the whole case about midway through the game).

[tombytalkz]

I don't fully understand how people can like the thought of yandere / stalker lovers

Fictionally, maybe? I guess? But I just can't see it

A yandere is defined as a character archetype of a seemingly innocent person, often times a school girl or kind walmart worker, usually in Japanese shows or manga, that has a crush on another person and is willing and will or already has ruined the lives of other people or murdered other people to make sure the only love interest their "Senpai" would have is them and only them, by any means necessary.

Could you imagine it? You're in school, high school, you're a Junior and you're just trying to get by. You're a kind person, help out in the library, friends with almost all of the staff, students know your name by heart because half of them you've helped get out of bad trouble, people don't pick on you as often because you discreetly help popular bullies or the challenged students with work or feeding themselves, and on a regular old day you start to feel paranoid for no reason. Nothing is wrong, nothing is happening to you, but your friends. Suddenly, on a completely random day BOOM. Your best friend, someone you trusted just as much if not more than your own parents, a person you've made memories with your whole life is suddenly missing or dead right Infront of your eyes and slowly but surely everyone you know and love are getting their lives ruined by allegations with proof, you know they would never do these things. Like Heaven, you know damn well that she would never try and take pictures of another students skirt, especially under it, but with the evidence right Infront of you you have no choice but to think that. And there is NOTHING you can do about it. Everyone and everything you've helped and done, all of your good deeds all of your support just wiped off the face of the earth and finally after you're at your lowest, parents and therapy being the only things that are keeping you from killing yourself because you've genuinely just lost everything you've done your whole life in your home town because now it isn't safe with the missing reports and murders, and lost everyone you used to laugh with, eat with, walk and talk hell even wanted to love, hold and kiss. Everyone you've ever wanted to take care of was stripped from you, a random insane girl with a knife covered in blood laughing like they just saw a real version of God himself tells you that it was all their doing and they needed to make sure you would love them.

And that's just one outcome that might happen. And thats a single yandere. A stalker would be so much worse except nobody would believe you because nothing is happening to you or anything else. You'd just be so paranoid while nothing is done to stop this mystery person because they don't exist until they're alone with you.

I find it terrifying. And scarring. So uhh yeah you can enjoy getting your life ruined for a high school madwoman I'll be over here in my corner hugging my 2019 Inquisitormaster Halloween plushie from Youtooz because baby had a nightmare.

[lime-miracorp]

[Start Recording]

"Hi everybody! This is Lime, coming to you live from inside the vents of MIRA HQ! Wow, it's kinda dark in here, hang on just a second..."

[Sounds of rustling and a button clicking]

"That's better! Good thing I brought a flashlight! For the first time in history, I'm gonna be your guide to the ventilation systems and give you all a tour of the routes I find interesting! Why I'm doing this you ask? There's not much else to do and Purple is busy at the moment so it's just me today."

"As an engineer, it's my job to ensure that the AC systems and the ventilation fans are in tip-top shape. But there's other reasons that I like to be in the vents sometimes, for activities that I guarantee are 100% free of murder, really have to clarify this first! Anyways, let's get started! Oh, better put this away in my pack first! Not a good idea to have a phone out while you're sliding around in a greasy metal pipe, am I right?”

[Metallic clanking]

"Here we are! Looks like we're over a meeting in one of the boardrooms. They're probably talking about minerals, space travel, research, other business things. We need to be quiet so we don't disrupt them. Moving on!"

[Shuffling]

"Oh, look at this! This is one of the laboratories in MIRA. Pretty cool, isn't it? These scientists tend to do a lot of neat stuff like testing exoplanet water for oxygen and brushing fossils. We better leave them to it. I don't think they'd appreciate being disturbed, especially while they're working."

[Pause]

"Oh yeah, you're probably wondering why these vents are big enough to fit me and not fall apart while I'm inside them! MIRA is a very tall skyscraper, therefore it requires more fresh air than other buildings since it's so high up in the atmosphere. Don't worry about me, I've been in here more times than I can count on my fingers, and I know every inch of reinforced sheet metal like the back of my own hand!"

[Muffled clanking]

"So now we're gonna... hold on, did-- listen, did you hear that? It sounds like something crawling in--"

[Sudden and loud snarling approaching rapidly]

"Oh shoot, that's an impostor! We need to get out of here, I gotta boost off this wall, oh crap oh crap OH CRAP! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! IF I NEVER MAKE IT OUTTA HERE ALIVE, TELL PURPLE SHE CAN HAVE THE REST OF MY BEEF JERKY--!"

[Recording stops abruptly]

[Start Recording]

"Hey guys. So, I hope you don't freak out about this, but I almost got eaten. Like I've said before, I'm very good at navigating the vents. It's just that... I didn't expect that there would be an impostor lurking near me. Sorry for scaring anybody, I guess this is where my tour ends. Note to self: never enter the vents unless you're fully prepared to crawl for your life…”

“…”

“Darn, I think I need to fix my phone screen again.”

[End Recording]

[sunshine-in-a-bottle]

hi :D I saw you reblogging bingo cards so as you can probably expect: c!dream, c!sam and c!punz as well as DreamXD and c!Technoblade for the character bingo card and

3 mcyters of your choice for the mcyt bingo

Hi sorry this took so long I did literally all of the bingo stuff in one night and then I was exhausted and had to take a break that lasted longer than I intended.

^When I say cDream got done dirty by the fans I mean the inniters specifically. Look at him. Look at how interesting and terrible and wonderful he is. Look at all his maladaptive coping mechanisms. Why the fuck does he look like that? Idk but its cool as fuck and I'm keeping him forever. He gets the greatest honor I'll ever bestow- a place on my mental shelf where all my favorite characters rest.

^Quite frankly the fact that I've turned Sam into a woobie is entirely my fault and I take full responsibility. I acknowledge he's a terrible person your honor. I just also acknowledge that every time I see him I need to bite down and shake him like a chew toy. This will inevitably come back to haunt me I'm sure.

^Punz is fun in that unlike the other two, I feel no need to justify their crimes Ever. I feel no need to explain to anyone that they're Nuanced and that their actions come from a specific place. I think Punz can do anything they want actually, and in fact should murder those teenagers for fun and profit. Punz doesn't need the nuance to be enjoyable. If their response to someone pissing them off is Direct Brutal Murder, then I think its Their Right As A Punz To Do So.

Yes they do have all that nuance and interesting motives and have a long, storied narrative, but I've never felt so defensive about them as I have Dream and Sam. It makes them very refreshing in a way.

^I probably should have put "is a horrible person" for XD. Whoops. But listen, they're fun in that you can shake em around in a plastic bag and they make the best crinkly sounds. They have so much potential as a character and so many different things you can do with them, especially if you get super creative about it. By themselves though they tend to be a bit of a nothingburger? I honestly don't think XD is that fun or interesting if they aren't focused around at least one other person, at least in their canon state. Part of what makes XD good is how he affects other people, not his own personal thoughts and feelings on any matter.

There's a lot of potential to change that of course, I've read some interesting fanfics and AU's where XD has been fleshed out and written some myself, but I think its really telling that one of the biggest mysteries of XD is why he has Dream's Face and not his own.

^Technoblade is one of those Very Good No Notes sort of person. I really should have said I don't have much to say about him, but that felt so negative when I think nothing but positive things about him? Its just, anything I could possibly think to say has likely already been said for me. He's a good, genuine character. His flaws are comprehensible (the man's anxiety and impulsive wrath tends to get him into trouble) but at the same time his sincerity and acts of kindness and humanity makes him so likeable that you're delighted to root for him even when he's doing things you may not agree with. He's the Dream who had a friend who was allowed to be openly loyal to him, the Dream that managed to find a group of people that have his back. Its kind of bittersweet for me almost.

Honestly I almost kind of wish he was more problematic just so I could be more mentally ill about him? Like once a character stops being overtly flawed and suffering from their flaws it gets hard for me to be invested. Maybe I just need to read a fic about him fucking up? Actually yeah I'm going to go do that, where's a fic about post-prison where he regrets leaving Dream out in the cold and its rivals hurt/comfort all the way.

^ccDream makes me smile. Thats it thats the post. If it had been anyone else piloting cDream I probably wouldn't have been in this fandom. I am Delighted. I am Thriving. I am In My Lane.

^ccSam. Its not my fault okay. He's just!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! aaaaaaaa!!!!! He's Loyal and Kind and Funny and Good and this is not my fault. Also he understands The Demons.

ccFoolish. Shut up don't look at me watching a 16 hour stream and having it on in the background while I do other things. Shut up. I deserve joyous whimsy in my life. Fuck you.

[cedar-sunshine]

Star Excerpt

I've been going back and forth on posting this for a while, but here it is! Feat: Tristan being depressed, Ori being a little off-putting. This is the VERY beginning of star, the opening words. Comment if you want me to post more anytime/if you liked it!

TWs- internalized transphobia (not incredibly overt), discussion of SI, discussion of death, discussion and minor representation of visual hallucinations.

I wrote this when I was dealing with REALLY severe depression and it hasn't been seriously edited since, so I can't vouch for it being great. Hope you enjoy it!

Tristan

It's getting cold faster than usual this year.

It feels like just yesterday that the first couple of leaves fell from the maples, but now I'm walking over ground that cracks and snaps with frost, and my breath hangs in the air like fog.

With hope, the coming winter will pass just as quickly as fall has been, collapsing in on itself in what remains of my mind. Realistically, I'll probably die before that can happen. The main question now is whether I'll die from the sickness, starvation, hypothermia, murder, or the other option. Guessing which one is going to finally take me out is the only thing left in my life that I could call entertaining, in a twisted, fucked up way. There's also a chance I eat the wrong plant and die from poisoning, but I'd argue that that falls under the last option, especially as I've practically memorized the plants in the northwest. It's been my only pastime for the past year and a half, if you don't count vivid fantasies of my own impending death.

You're never really aware of all the interesting ways one can die until you are, aren't you?

As it is, I've decided that my most likely fate will be turning back on my trail, finding the people who I've been running from with less and less conviction for the past eight months, and letting myself be ripped to pieces in whatever horrifying fashion they desire. It wouldn't be much worse than what's going on in my head already, I'd guess. And they'd be right in whatever gruesome thing they have planned for me. It's not like I haven't been asking for this since I ran.

I'm not exactly sure where I'm going, other than a vague idea of 'east'. If I even have the direction right. For all I know, I've been going in circles for months. I can see the mountains in the distance, though, so I can't be too far off. I know the silhouette of the rockies.

My half-formed plan when I first fled was to get to the rockies and find refuge in a cave, gathering food like a bear in the fall, and then count on my pursuers not being able to survive in the mountains. I'm not sure why I had thought that a half-dead, psychotic fifteen year old with identity confusion would survive out there any better than they would, but it's the only plan I have, and without a plan, I don't really have much to do other than sit down and die.

Honestly, that option has been sounding pretty nice lately.

Still, I'm nothing if not a creature of inertia. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat, only exists because I've lost the energy to do anything other than stay the same. What is in motion stays in motion, even as the friction of my brain tears at me to just stop.

I'm not sure why I don't.

The sun is bleeding up from the horizon, lighting the clouds near it a pinkish golden color, bringing color to a gray sky. The mountains are saturated with dark, vivid blue shadows and patches of gleaming white snow that hurts to look at.

The light burns my eyes, and I refocus my gaze on the ground in front of me where brown and orange leaves are encased in frost, crunching under my footsteps. With the frost, I'll be leaving pretty clear footsteps until the sun fully rises, but I can't bring myself to care. A brutal, ritualistic death, no matter how gory and painful, seems no worse than the other option.

I try to avoid thinking about the future. Whenever I do, the pull to just stop gets almost overwhelming, and the panic that causes makes everything around it worse. The stability of my mind is nothing but a coin flip, and when it's landed on heads, I try to do all I can to avoid flipping it again.

Still, the future isn't the most avoidable thing.

As I watch my worn-out shoes leave a trail in the frost and leaves, my thoughts can't help but drift towards one of my many taboo subjects.

What happens next is perhaps the scariest question I can pose to myself, mostly because I don't actually know the answer.

I can feel my pulse lift and the fog of my mind start to thicken and creep towards the lucidity I've held for almost a week now, if you ignore the flashes of blood and corpses that don't exist hanging from trees in the edges of my vision. My hands clench and unclench, fingers racing along my palms, ruined nails scratching at my rough skin.

It's not proper for a girl to have such un-ladylike hands.

It's not proper for a girl to cut her hair and hide in the woods on her own, either, is it?

Perhaps the question of what's proper for a girl isn't the most important thing right now.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my burning mind. This part of the forest doesn't have as much undergrowth as usual- notably, it's missing the rampant salal and huckleberries that I've been seeing around here, along with the old growth trees and logs that scaffold the way for smaller plants. I'd guess that it was clear-cut before the disaster, and is maybe five years out from it.

I wonder if the forest knows that it's safe now, that the power tools are dead and the constant consumerist demand has died with most of the world's population. I wonder if its trauma will live on in its occupants, teaching its deer to flee at any movement and its flowers to hide in the deepest, thickest tangles of plants. I wonder if it knows that the world has changed. Maybe it can feel that the human feet that used to trample it have lessened, and maybe it feeds on the corpses and can taste their disease and fear. Perhaps it remains unaware, always living in fear of the next hunting season or the return of the lumber companies and hikers who tear up the native plants and bring with them grasses and Himalayan blackberries. Perhaps it can see me walking through its trees and it wonders what a child so clearly unfit for this life is doing. Perhaps it waits for me to give up and die, so it can welcome me to its soil and bring me home. Perhaps it sees me as only another of the ones that have torn it from its roots and killed its children and brothers, and it only feels distrust and hatred. Perhaps it still wishes I would give up and die, but only so my threatening existence ends.

Perhaps it's just wood and leaves, and I've truly lost what's left of my mind.

I wonder what it thinks of me, if it looks beyond my humanness and sees that the blood running through my veins is the same as what pulses in its children, a cousin of the golden sap that bleeds from its bark. I wonder who it sees.

A girl with rough hands and a shattered mind, maybe. Or a boy who's met death and come back, rather unwillingly. Maybe it only sees a scared child running blindly, or an animal that sacrificed its humanity to keep its straining, breaking heart beating in its chest. Maybe something else entirely, something that's fading away from the inside out and barely even still going.

I wonder who I would see, if I was brave enough to look.

Orion

I go over the bear trap one last time, making sure that it's not being blocked by anything. It's on its last legs, rusty and creaky. It's not a pretty beast, but it does the job, even if the job might give me tetanus one day. I don't really have another option right now, so I choose to remain positive. I have it set on a rough game trail, with the jaws and trigger covered in vines and leaves. I've got a camp set up in a small cave by a cliff less than a mile from the trap, so I can check it every evening, along with the rope ones that I have on other trails. With luck, I'll get something in a couple days, hopefully big enough to last me through the winter. I dream of the day when I get a moose in my traps.

Once I get a catch, I can dry the meat for the winter, and then next spring I'll keep going east and get over the mountains. The east of the mountains is more habitable than the west, so I'll keep looking for a town of survivors there.

I know that there are people out there, and I know that those people have probably grouped up and started rebuilding societies. It'll take a bit to convince them that I'm not sick, and that I'm not there to steal their resources, but I know I can do it. People like me. I like to think that I've held on to most of my charm through what I can only really describe as the apocalypse. Maybe I'll start a family, if I meet someone there who's sweet and pretty, someone who thinks I am too. Maybe we can find a stray dog and live a small, nice life. I just need to take it step by step, and the next step is finding food.

I've always wished that I knew a bit more about plants, especially since the sickness hit and I've been doing this all on my own. I know the basics- thimbleberries, chanterelles, cedar- but not much more than that. I think it'd be helpful to be one of those people who can dig food from the ground during winter. I'm dealing, though. Perhaps a diet consisting mainly of meat isn't the healthiest thing, but I'd say that I'm actually doing pretty well, given the whole apocalypse situation.

The cliff that I've made my temporary home in is only maybe ten or fifteen feet tall, on the base of a relatively steep hill. The cave's entrance is much shorter than me, but if I crouch, I can get in and into the more sizable inner part, where I still can't really stand up. I have coils of rope shoved into a corner, and I toss my beat-up backpack on top of them before sitting on my equally used sleeping bag. It's developed rips and holes that make it not much more useful than a warm blanket, but a warm blanket is still something.

I've adopted a crepuscular lifestyle more recently, altering my waking time to match that of the wildlife. I set my traps early in the morning and check them long after the sun sets. It took me a bit, but I get around five hours of sleep every time I try, amounting to maybe ten every day. I spend the rest of my time either maintaining my body or fantasizing about the town I'll find in eastern Washington. It's not the most exciting life, but it's nice to have some routine in a world like this.

I don't feel very tired yet, so I pull over my backpack and dump its contents on the base of the cave, searching through them. My two extra knives are tied together with a worn out length of twine, along with my flint in its' case, and my bunched-up, too-large raincoat unfolds on the ground, along with a medley of other things, but it only takes me a few moments to find what I was looking for.

When I was a kid, I got three journals for one of my birthdays. I wrote through one of them before the virus hit, and the second one was finished frantically in the first few months. Those two will be burnt to ashes when I have the time, kindling soaked with things that aren't worth remembering. The one I've been using for the past year or so is about halfway through, with my ideas and feelings journaled about once a week. Most of it is plans, maps, paths over the mountains, dotted with records of where I set traps. I'm no artist, but I've sketched out ideas of what a surviving society might look like. Abstract maps are my strength.

I flip to a new page and pull my pencil out of the inner pocket on my backpack, and begin writing.

When I wake in the evening, my head rests uncomfortably on my open journal, with a messy, half finished list of the steps I'll need to take to get over the rockies. My spine aches from being curled up like a dead shrimp for hours, and when I stretch it cracks more than I think should be healthy. It's colder than it was in the morning, but I push myself to get up and shove my stuff back into my bag.

The sky is gray outside, and the air is that sort of sharp cold that hurts a bit to breathe. Every inhale reminds me that winter is soon, and that I'll be over the rockies by this time next year. Maybe I'll even have found my survivors by then, and I'll have my little life set up. I'm sure any little budding village would be happy to have a young member with trapping knowledge, someone who can contribute and still has his whole life ahead of him.

The trail I've set my traps on takes about two hours to fully complete, and a bit more with my care to avoid my own traps. I've made that mistake once, and I never plan to make it again.

The bear trap is surprisingly well hidden for a metal jaw in the leaves- its rust blends in with the leaves scattered over it, and if I wasn't aware of its existence and studying every step I take, there's a good chance I'd lose a leg to it. I feel a twinge of apology for whatever poor thing gets caught in my trap, but we all need to eat. Anyways, it's probably no more violent than any of the other ways a thing could die out here.

I return to my little cave as the first couple of raindrops start hitting the leaves, and I curl up in my sleeping bag to stay warm as I watch the rain fall.

It's hypnotizing, in a way. The quiet roar is the loudest thing in the woods, and it drowns out any other sound. Within half an hour, the rain has turned from a gentle patter to a downpour, turning the world gray outside of the cave. The cave has a helpful slant that keeps the water from running down to where I'm sitting, but the cold still ends up saturating my skin, soaking through me just as quickly as the rain would.

I lie down and turn away from the cave entrance. There's no better time to sleep than during a rainstorm.

☆☆☆

That's chapter one of star! Thanks for reading (:

[ahmedmootaz]

[SPOILERS FOR THE ENDINGS OF LIBRARY OF RUINA]

Same asker as the Angela's bad ending one before. Wanted to ask what would happen in Roland's bad ending instead? Assuming X and Ayin don't vanish/die like the Sephirahs and the Library right after Angela gets her head chopped off, they'd now have to deal with a very angry Roland, a destroyed Library, and possibly no more Light to draw on from.

So what would happen in terms of the most likely outcome and in terms of what would be the most interesting outcomes?

Would Roland end up turning his anger on Ayin and kill him immediately too like Angela? Or would he try to make Ayin suffer first since Roland isn't going to be as merciful as he was with Angela whose lashing out he understands?

And what would Roland do with X? Use him as a hostage against Ayin? Use him to help throw Ayin in the Head's jail for having a clone over a week old?

Dear Anonymous,

Yeah, this is the ask I was referring to when I said I had seen one similar to the Bad Ending Roland ask in my inbox.

When it comes to your first question, I think I answered this one already; Roland's motivation would've dwindled so far that doing anything at this point, especially to someone who wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of being in pain and suffering when you're killing him, would seem like too much work for him. While I have no doubt he'd likely try to hurt them, I doubt Roland would be able to stay cognisant enough to actually go through with hurting them since he'd be drunk/drugged out of his mind most of the time after LoR's end. Even if he discovers who Ayin and X are, he likely can't care enough to do anything other than simply throwing his miserable life away.

As for telling the Head about Ayin and X...it depends on how much effort he's willing to do, so it's probably not very likely he'd tell The Head considering the effort it'd take and the possibility of him also becoming a target for one reason or another, but I think that by the point he comes to a conclusion on what to do with them (if he doesn't immediately turn to violence, that is), Ayin and X would've been long, long gone from the City one way or another to avoid being chased by the Head or other authorities who'd hunt them down for violating the clone laws.

When it comes to X, I think Roland would have difficulty distinguishing him from Ayin, to be honest. This isn't the same setting as AiP where there's time to differentiate them from one another and eventually come to a conclusion when it comes to each of them, this is a moment where Roland deciding whether or not to brutally murder the two of them, so I doubt he'd be able to figure out X's importance to Ayin, emotionally speaking, or use his cloned nature against him. At worst, he may figure out Ayin loses some of his reason and almost flies into a fit of blind rage when X is hurt, which he may use to toy with Ayin if he isn't drugged out of his mind all the time.

I hope this suffices as an answer to your question, Anon! Until next time, take care, be well, and see ya'! Thank you for the fun ask!

[macawritesupdates]

Wow so many updates you're killing it! I loved the latest chapter of cuddle it had so many great moments. Yuuji and Sukuna nesting together was adorable and I loved the scene where he pulled Yuuji into his domain for cuddles. The heat was beautiful go get that comfort Yuuji you deserve it. I also loved so many of the descriptions you used like Yuuji wiggling like a cat to get close to Sukuna. Yuuji thinking about how Sukuna has a relatively simple technique but has mastered it to such a degree that he is far more dangerous than sorcerers with much more complex techniques was really cool. It made me think about how some techniques are only as good as their user. Like how mei mei has a "weak" technique but she figured out how to use if so well that she's a first grade (I don't like her at all I'm just sayin). Or how Yorozu has basically the same technique as Mai but she's so much stronger because she puts so much more effort and thought into it. Or even Kenny who's technique is non combat based on its own he's so dangerous because of how well he plans things out. Sukuna's technique is simple and easy to understand but that just means he's got way more freedom in how he can use it. It's like having a highly specialized tool vs a simple but versatile tool. It's fun to think about. It's a little like how you can do basically anything in Minecraft because it's so simple but you have a lot less freedom in big complicated aa games which are more complex but offer fewer choices because theres a certin path the player is expected to follow. Of course all that freedom is completely useless if you aren't creative enough to make use of it. Not everyone can figure out how to build cathedrals or working calculators in a game. Not everyone could take a technique of cutting and earn the title of the strongest. Hmm went a little long on that bit lol. Anyway love Yuuji still being down to roast Sukuna but wanting to avoid any bigotry when he does. It's perfectly OK to throw shade at the man lord knows he deserves it but we will not I repeat not torment him over stuff he has no control over especially when his poor life choices offer so many other options for ridicule. I am such a sucker for a good cuddle so this chapter has definitely been my favorite so far 💗. I love Sukuna being such a bastard about affection he's figuring this shit out on the fly but he's got to be a bit of a dick about it. He can learn all kinds of stuff from Yuuji AND murder him in the domain apparently.

Hmm, as for suggestions for what happens next, I'm thinking we could have a fun morning after the heat. Yuuji seemed to think in the last chapter that his heat would end quickly, so where we go from here depends on whether he's right about that. If he is then I think next chapter should definitely have Sukuna teasing him about how clingy and cuddly he was during his heat while, and this is key, absolutely cuddling the shit out of him. I'm talking holding on with both arms purring and somehow still looking so smug while completely ignoring the hypocrisy as he refuses to let his brat leave the nest. Making fun of Yuuji for being a clingy little octopus as he does his best impression of a creeping vine clinging to a tree. If Yuuji's wrong and the heat is still going then I suggest some spice. I kinda wanna see pushy Yuuji domming from the bottom so to speak. He's in heat he knows what he needs and he's damn well going to take charge and get it. Sukuna can be along for the ride of his life. After that ends I wouldn't mind looking into these curse users some more are they working for Kenjaku? I almost want them to be an unrelated group just for the fun of adding a completely new group of unknown enemies for the plot but that would mean adding a lot of world building and motivations for these guys and this fic is a collective effort so other people would have to be interested. Until next time, thank you for writing and sharing with us!!

It always was fascinating to me that Sukuna's techniques were rather simple but used to a point they were so powerful. Also just the name of it "Shrine" always made it seem like there was so much more to it than just slash and burn. It makes me wonder if Sukuna was capable of a LOT more when he was at his height which makes it feel like Heian sorcerers had to be damn powerhouses compared today 8I

ALso good cuddles are nice and this fic had to earn its name at last with all the cuddles packed into this one! Had a TON of reader comments wanting cuddles hehe!

As for adding worldbuilding and plot...I'm ALWAYS excited when a reader adds something like that to the story! Helps to give it more direction and is often a very unique take <3 it adds things like the creep sorcerer and giving more room for bonding c:

Glad you are enjoying the fic dear reader!

[adhd-merlin]

I've read the Will post you reblogged, it's all very sweet, but: Merlin himself has said that the years before he came in Camelot were the loneliest years of his life. His mother, Will, the entire village of people not hostile to magic were less dear to him that his destiny service to Camelot. So, no: relationship with Will is secondary to him, there ficwriters are right writing them in such manner. This passage about loneliness was probably created by the writers to emphasize Arthur & Merlin's unusual kind of friendship, like they only have each other, but in fact it devaluated Will for Merlin and the knights for Arthur.

Hi anon! Cool glasses.

Yeah, I haven't analysed that post that deeply, I just thought there were some interesting points in there (as someone who's never given much thought to Will). And for the record, sometimes I might agree with 90% of a meta post and go "eh, I don't know" about the rest — I might still reblog it, because it's still food for thought, and I'm okay with not agreeing 100% with everyone all of the time. (Unless I think they are blatantly wrong about the remaining 10%). People can interpret things differently and that's alright. That's what makes things interesting!

That said.

Merlin himself has said that the years before he came in Camelot were the loneliest years of his life.

This passage about loneliness was probably created by the writers to emphasize Arthur & Merlin's unusual kind of friendship (...) but in fact it devaluated Will for Merlin

Merlin was always lonely. He might have been less lonely in Camelot than he was in Ealdor, just by virtue of being around more people and feeling like he was working towards a bigger purpose, but he was lonely. He is so lonely it's heartbreaking.

It's... lonely. To be more powerful than any man you know, and have to live like a shadow. To be special, and have to pretend you're a fool.

It's a loneliness born out of having to hide his true nature and, at the same time, being unable to befriend those he could be open with about his magic, people like him — Morgana and Mordred, of course, but occasionally also the Baddie of the Week — because fate and prophecies have set them on opposing sides. It's tragic.*

(Colin Morgan himself briefly touches upon Merlin's loneliness in his commentary to Ep 5x02, when he says "there's a sense of loneliness in all the magical characters, I think. [...] All united in the loneliness.")

So, personally, I don't think Merlin talking about his loneliness says anything negative or even especially significant about the quality of his friendship with Will. Merlin was (and remains) lonely because of his nature and of his circumstances. It's not really anything to do with Will.

His mother, Will, the entire village of people not hostile to magic were less dear to him that his destiny service to Camelot

Just because magic isn't banned in Cenred's kingdom, it doesn't mean that the people there are less hostile to magic. If people in Ealdor were tolerant towards magic, Merlin wouldn't have had to hide it the whole time he was there. He might not have been burnt at the stake for it, but it's very much implied he would've been (at the very least) viewed with mistrust or even ostracised by the other villagers.

And I don't believe S1 Merlin considered his mother less important than his destiny. He tries to bargain his life for hers in 1x13. (Even in 2x09 he is ready to give up his destiny to run away with Freya. Also almost killed Arthur, btw. And yes, in my book that is pretty much a murder attempt).

I assume you're saying that because he initially refused to use magic to defend his village? But like I said, Ealdor was only slightly less hostile to sorcerers than Camelot, and Arthur was right there. It wasn't just a matter of what was more important to Merlin, it was a matter of his own survival too. S1 Arthur wasn't ready to hear about Merlin's magic. He literally lectures Merlin about magic being dangerous while he's watching his childhood friend burn on a funeral pyre (dick move, by the way). The man who died saving his life. So that didn't leave Merlin with much choice, despite what Will's rebuke implies.

In the end he does use magic, and he's almost discovered — he only gets away with it because Will takes the blame. So his reluctance in using magic to defend his village wasn't completely unfounded.

Was Will more important than Arthur to S1 Merlin, or even equally important? I suppose that's a matter of interpretation.

The author wrote:

I feel that Merlin’s relationship with Will is something that is important to him, and something that he has never considered to be secondary or less important than the relationships he built in Camelot.

IMO, Will was clearly a dear friend to Merlin, regardless of his comment about feeling lonely in Ealdor. And I don't know if Merlin's relationship with Will was as important to him as the relationships he built in Camelot (in which I include people other than Arthur, like Gaius and Gwen), but it clearly was important.

Will was literally the only person who knew about Merlin's magic, other than his mother, before he met Gaius. The only person he didn't have to hide his true nature from. That's got to count for something.

And as much as Merlin cared about Arthur, he never had that with him. It was, tragically, a very one-sided relationship, until almost the very end.

I think you might still argue that Merlin's relationship with Arthur was more important — if you were so inclined — because of the whole destiny thing and how it gave Merlin a sense of purpose. But based on the friendship alone? Very one-sided, like I said. And I don't think Merlin was significantly less lonely around Arthur.

Sorry, I've just rambled on.

_____________________________________________

*I'm 100% sure I wrote a short meta post (well, random thoughts) about this because it's something I've thought about so much. And now I can't find it. Why do I even tag posts when I can't find anything half of the time!!

ETA: found it

[habibibasket]

MY YANDERE SIMULATOR CONCEPT

Gameplay and Visual Design Concepts

The base idea of Yandere Simulator is pretty strong! That's just to say that I enjoy it though, my opinions can be kinda shit but still! The idea of systematically going through and eliminating your romantic rivals sounds like a fun game concept, but issues arise when you ask "what genre of game?" Since the one we have now is OVERWHELMED with issues. There's too many little details and distractions, with many additions not really fleshing out the world and instead just making things feel overstuffed and tangential. There's so many things to look at and explore which almost all become null and void as the rival eliminations have strict time limits and days must be spent solely on those things, giving you little to no time to actually experience the extraneous details. Additionally, the specific elimination methods don't really allow for much experimentation with the various items and weapons around the school, especially the blunt object weapons like the pipe or the baseball bat. There's so many different elimination methods and ways of killing but many of those methods just feel far less useful if none of the 'cooler' ways are completely unviable and pointless to carry out, basically only having negative consequences if you try to experiment beyond the "schemes." The schemes is also pretty stupid idea in its own right basically preventing user experimentation entirely by providing such strict instructions for your plots that any experimentation just becomes null and void as a result. It just leaves things feeling hollow and unearned as a result.

Many of main issues I have with the gameplay and presentation is entirely to do with the format of the game, which, I believe, also contributes to the main struggles with development. Models, animations, and cutscenes are all either inhibited, slowed, or completely ruined by the presentation of the game. The post-processing, blurriness, and character models in particular make everything look less than ideal. This leads me to my point and my idea for what this kind of story is best suited for...

A Visual Novel

I may just have a bias for visual novels but I do believe that with the rework I'd want with the story, a visual novel would be the best option. I want to completely replan the story anyway but even the original concept could work as a visual novel with enough planning and writing power. I imagine it more as an Ace Attorney style visual novel with a time system implemented. You can move around to the notable locations in the school and look for specific items in each room. These items will be marked in the background, and can be found with the right means and the right information. Talking to people isn't required but can be helpful if you're looking for a specific tool or trying to plan out a murder plot or trying to get dirt on the particular rival.

Additionally, there's a game design concept I want to focus more on. The idea that throughout the game, it's a Ayano/Ayato's descent into madness from their crimes and actions. Sanity is less of a gameplay factor and more of a central story theme. Additionally this is shown best with the rivals and "rivals" you kill throughout. The real rivals being those who show an interest in Taro/Taeko and who they might have an interest in as well. This will be touched on more in the rival section, but the descent into simply killing people who happen to just be near them is something I want to have built up to over time as you kill more and more people who are seemingly of no "threat" whatsoever.

I'll cover a lot of that once we get to the story section but before that I want to address setting and design.