#not the one who bears all the responsibility.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Azriel 

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 

“Azriel?” 

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 

“What?” he choked out. 

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 

Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 

~~

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 

Useless. 

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 

And he had told you that he had one. 

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 

You felt his breath at your arm. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.” 

“For how long?” 

“You slept for a day and a half.” 

“And you stayed the entire time?” 

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You remember what I said?” 

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 

You shouldn’t have asked. 

~~

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 

“How much time?” Azriel strained. 

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 

You removed your hand from his. 

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst

[mobblespsycho100]

which one’s toshiro and whys he autistic?

[ID: full body colored illustration of toshiro from the dungeon meshi manga. /End ID]

THIS FREAKIN GUY!!!! anyway

[ID: anonymous tumblr ask: "would def love to hear ur autistic shuro thoughts". /End ID]

awesome. rant under the cut because it will be long

So before we understand why Toshiro is the way he is we must first understand two things abt him:

1. his household situation is a very traditional clan of warriors type situation. his father is very strict and he left his homeland to go to the Island and explore the dungeon to train and become a warrior to be someone suited as the family head

2. Eastern and Western cultures of respect/propriety are different, and Ryoko Kui highlights it well even in her fantasy world.

With that in mind, heres some bullet point rapid fire thoughts that consume my current state of dunmeshi brain:

Toshiro has an avoidant personality. He fears upsetting others due to his upbringing, and rarely tells others how he feels not because he thinks they would simply understand him but because he doesn't want to seem rude and imposing / cause offense to others especially since he's not in his own homeland / hes a foreigner that should respect the land's customs, not his own wishes.

Setting boundaries is hard for everyone, but especially autistic (and some other ND, like those with Avoidant Personality Disorder) people. Those with ASD, at least in my experience, don't want to be isolated from others. So they mask.

They mask what? their desires. their true selves. their opinions. their discomfort. all for the sake of pleasing others (who are often neurotypical)

With that in mind, suddenly, what Maizuru said abt him as a child makes sense. Due to his strict upbringing, Toshiro had to more or less hide his preferences and force himself to adapt to the rigid constraints of his culture and the pressure to be the next family head, this responsibility is his burden to bear and he cannot be someone who expresses his selfish desires instead of focusing on being a strong warrior and leader

"Why did he say he hate Laios and that it should've been obvious that he disliked/found Laios' treatment of him uncomfortable??" BECAUSE IT SHOULD BE OBVIOUS. I'm not going to write off Laios' autism/autistic coding, but its baffling (note: definitely racism and bias for white autistic ppl) to me that a lot of ppl don't see Toshiro's perspective and straight up ignores it. This is a lack of wanting to be rude by speaking up that is based on culture difference on Toshiro's part, and straight up ignorant of his microagressions/racism and lack of self awareness on Laios' end. They were both right, they were both wrong too. This is a complicated conflict that cannot be boiled down to simple ableist/the NT vs ND divide. There's something called . intersectionality. Which brings me to the next point

Toshiro never actually hated Laios. He found him uncomfortable, yes. But he didn't /hate/ him, he was speaking out because he's had enough!!! he's done tolerating Laios' racist bullshit, and he's done following the arbitrary Eastern rules of respecting others and not being rude!!! He. Wants. Laios. To Understand. What. He. Was. Feeling. Because he just had enough!!!!! alright!!! he's at his limit hes at his breaking point, the one he loves is now probably beyond saving, and this is a good time as any to break the news to Laios that he thinks that Laios is impulsive and doesn't fully understand how his actions have consequences!!! Hes right abt this. His feelings on this is valid, just as valid as Laios'

General autistic traits I find from Toshiro: his admiration of Falin's indifference towards insects ("woah shes so brave and gentle!! just like me, fr!!!"), His lack of regard for his own needs and wants (needing to sleep and eat and drink) because he was super focused on saving Falin, His lack of like drastic expression changes, his discomfort with physical touch when it's initiated without consent (see: Laios hugging ppl extra bonus art by Ryoko Kui), his manner of like speaking short and concise, people pleasing tendencies, his like quick way of combat, rule upholder/routine following enjoyer, he seems distant from others even those he consider family not cuz of like any terrible reason but hes just. someone who enjoys his own time alone like. yeah

aannnnndd. thats abt it? i think.

Big part of this is definitely me relating to Shiro as an Asian (specifically chinese indonesian) person who is probably Autistic lmao. I hope this brings more insight on why Toshiro is actually one of the silliest and epiccest dunmeshi characters ever I love him

#asks #dungeon meshi #toshiro nakamoto #dunmeshi #L 👁️‍🗨️🌫️ ! #shuro dunmeshi #(help) #idk if he has tags. does he have fans here. pls say he does

[bookyeom]

campfire - bsk

pairing: seungkwan x reader word count: 1.7k warnings: the tiniest mention of blood at the beginning request prompt: "What are we to each other?"

A/N: Thanks so much for all the support for my 700 follower celebration. You guys rock! I'm doing my best to get through the requests, but there were way more than I anticipated so bear with me!

"I’m bleeding," you wince. You sit down on one of the rocks, turning your foot to assess the damage. A small trail of blood leads from your ankle to your pinky toe, and you let out a little whine. "Gross."

Who’s idea was it to go on a hike at 5:30am, anyway? 

Yours. Right. It was your idea. 

You’d thought some of your friends would join you – you’re on a week-long cottage vacation. Why would you not immerse yourself in the nature all around you? But only one person had signed up to tag along – the one you thought liked you the least. You don’t even know if you would consider him a friend.

The hike had been mostly silent, awkward even – and then, like an idiot, you’d gone and tripped. 

Seungkwan wastes no time, immediately crouching down on the ground in front of you. He motions for you to put your foot up on his knee and you oblige, wincing again as you move. You can’t help but watch his face as he assesses the injury. His hair is messy from the wind, and parts of it are falling across his forehead as he leans forward. He looks kind of beautiful in this element, you have to admit. All sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You try and fail to suppress a shiver as his fingers run across your skin, and his eyes meet yours in concern. 

"Did that hurt?" 

You feel your cheeks heat up as you shake your head no, before breaking his gaze and looking back down at your foot. You watch as he pulls off his backpack, resisting the urge to comment on the fact that he has a first-aid kit in there (because of course he does), even though that’s what you do. You and Seungkwan are just that – two people who happen to have the same friends, and bicker over the dumbest shit. But right now, with the way he looks so soft and concerned, his lower lip between his teeth in concentration, you can’t find it in you to make a snarky comment. 

You’ve been finding it harder and harder to do that lately, if you’re being honest with yourself. You don’t know when it started to happen, but the teasing between the two of you just makes you feel warm all over now, instead of irritated like it used to. You’re starting to resent the way he makes you smile.

“This will hurt.” Seungkwan’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you nod, unable to find your voice as he presses a piece of peroxide-soaked cotton onto the affected area. You hiss at the pain, and his free hand gives your calf a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “It’s not sprained,” he tells you, “but it’s going to hurt like a bitch. You should be okay to walk on it, but we should definitely head back.”

He starts packing up his bag again, and you wish that you could find something, anything to say. You know a thank you is in order, but all you can manage is, “Since when did you become an expert in sprained ankles?”

Seungkwan snorts, but he doesn’t so much as flinch while he continues to put his things back in his bag. “Being the captain of the volleyball team has its perks, I guess.”

“And co-captain of the badminton and table tennis teams.”

That makes him look up. His eyes are wide in surprise, and you try to ignore how flushed you’ve suddenly become under his gaze. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “I didn’t know you even knew that about me.”

You can’t help the defense that shoots back up as you retort, “What do you mean? It’s all you talk about. We get it, you’re sporty.”

“Right.” His lack of response to your quip has you flustered. He simply hums, stands up and slings his backpack over his shoulders. “Can you walk on your own?”

You feel stupid all of a sudden. “I think so,” you respond, dejected by the weird energy between the two of you, and you can feel Seungkwan’s eyes on you as you stand, testing the weight on your foot. “I’m good, just go slow.”

You don’t talk to Seungkwan for the rest of the afternoon. He disappears when you make it back to the house, and all you get from him over lunch are some smiles and a giggle when you guffaw at Mingyu tripping on his own shoes. You spend the afternoon hanging out with Vernon and Seungcheol in the library, ankle propped up as you read in silence. 

A campfire is on the agenda for dinner, and you're told to sit back and relax as things are brought out from the cottage. You’re entertained from your seat by Seokmin and Mingyu as they begin cooking, and the rest of your group comes out one by one. The sun is beginning to set, and the sky is a beautiful array of blues, pinks and purples when Seungkwan sits in the chair next to you.

“How’s the ankle?”

“It’s fine,” you manage, and he nods. He settles in, eyes on the fire, and you can’t help but gawk at him. He chose to sit next to you?

The evening passes without much more chatter between the two of you. Your other friends are entertaining as always, and the time slips away peacefully until Jeonghan announces his early retirement, and others begin to follow suit. The fire is dwindling when Chan, Soonyoung and Seokmin announce that they’re headed in, leaving just you and Seungkwan, and you’re about to ask Seokmin to help you back to the house when Seungkwan interjects.

“I’ll help them.”

You flush at the chorus of oohs and ahhs that echo through the remaining group, but Seungkwan doesn’t even flinch, already maneuvering his chair in front of yours. 

“Come on,” he pats his thigh, “let me see.”

“Seungkwan…” 

He hums, focused on the task at hand. It’s quiet now as he stops fidgeting with the bandage, moving instead to gently massage the sore area around the wound. His touch is gentle but firm, and you feel electricity shoot through you. You’re holding your breath, and you feel a little dizzy; there are goosebumps on your leg from where he’s touching you. It’s not cold out, so you know you can’t blame it on that. It’s quiet, and all you can hear are the murmurs and occasional laughter of your friends in the distance, and the dying fire. 

“Why are you doing this?” Your question comes out harsher than you mean for it to, and you wince.

Seungkwan looks up at that, his fingers stilling on your skin. He’s silent for a moment, processing. “What, helping you?” He sounds incredulous, and you shrink a little bit back into yourself. He begins to gently press his fingers into the muscle of your ankle again, his eyes falling back to his work as he adds, “Didn't know you thought so lowly of me.” 

“It’s not as if you like me either, Seungkwan.” You wish you could pull your ankle away from him without it hurting, wish you could find a way to hide from whatever this conversation is about to be — but you can’t. 

Seungkwan shakes his head, the disbelieving huff of a laugh escaping his lips as he does. “Unbelievable.”

You cross your arms, defensive. “What?”

Despite being obviously annoyed, Seungkwan is gentle as he sets your foot back on the ground. “Nothing. Just let me help you back to the house, alright?”

You stare at him in disbelief as he stands, moving his chair back to its place before he holds out an arm to you. “No. What? You’ve got to be kidding me, Seungkwan.”

He runs a hand through his hair, jaw tight as looks away from you and mutters, “Fine. Get back to the house on your own.”

“That’s not…” You fight back the sudden urge to cry, blinking rapidly. “Seungkwan.”

Something in your voice makes him turn back to you, and now his own arms are crossed in defense. “What, Y/N?”

“I…” You don’t even know what you mean to say, really, and it takes a moment before you whisper softly, “What are we to each other?” 

You can tell he’s surprised by your question. His eyes widen as he straightens. “I… I don’t know,” he admits honestly. “But I can’t figure out why you don’t like me.”

His admittance lingers in the air around you, and your mouth falls open as you process. “Do you like me?” 

Seungkwan’s hand lifts to run over his face as he sits back in his chair. He’s embarrassed, you realize, and your heart stutters over itself in your chest. “I mean, yeah, but I just meant — you think that I hate you or something, but I don’t, even though you don’t like me —“

“I like you,” you blurt out, cutting him off before he can ramble any further. “I thought that you didn’t like me because you’re always so competitive and want to beat me at everything, and you never seem excited to see me or try to talk to me at parties, so I just… gave up on trying to make you like me.” 

Seungkwan lets out a whine. “You intimidate me! You’re good at everything and yes, I’m competitive, but you’re an equal match and that’s so hot. But I thought you didn’t like me, so I didn’t try, either.”

“Oh my god,” you say after a moment. 

You stare at one another in the dim firelight for a moment. And then you both begin to giggle.

“Are we going to ignore that you called me hot?”

Seungkwan stumbles a bit, the arm he has slung around your shoulders tripping you up a little bit too, but he quickly catches himself. You bite back a smile. “Yes. Yes we are.”

“Why? I think you’re hot, too.”

Seungkwan fully stops the two of you now, turning to you with an exaggerated pout. You can just make out his features in the light from the cabin up ahead, and he looks so cute you could cry. “Don’t tease me,” he whines.

“I’m serious,” you tell him honestly. He looks away, but you can see the shy smile that’s formed on his face. 

“Fine,” he says as he begins to walk again. “We can talk more about that inside.”

@wheeboo @tae-bebe @waldau @eoieopda @gyuminusone @minisugakoobies @lvlystars @seohomrwolf @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @christinewithluv @wqnwoos @iluvseokmin @darkypooo

#seungkwan x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #seungkwan fluff #seungkwan imagine #seventeen fluff #my writing #bskfic #bookyeom700

[mattsfuturegf]

Sargent Teddy | M.Sturniolo.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐎 𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊!𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 you and matt have been dating for a year, while filming a video for the triplets youtube channel, nick reveals one of his icks for both you and matt which makes you realise how alike you both actually were.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 swearing, only one use of y/n (i think that’s it but tell me if i missed anythin’)

“Okay here’s an ick I had for Matt and this bitch next to me,” Nick interrupted loudly while jokingly bumping his shoulder against yours, earning a laugh from you as he quickly wrapped an arm around you to keep you engaged in the video.

“This isn’t necessarily an ick but Matt and Y/N both have teddy bears, but they both have certain privileges to the bed. So if you are in Matt’s room and you go to sit down on his bed and the bear falls you have to pick him up and apologise to Mr.Puggington or, sorry, Mr.Wrinkles! So the ick isn’t the bear itself it just there’s certain privileges that Matt has.”

Chris was laughing loudly, his laugh so contagious that it set you and Matt off as well, you were all giggling and trying to compose yourself as Nick was now talking about his ick for you and you just knew that Nick was going to bring up the name of your teddy bear.

“Now this girl, my pride and joy, the reason for any of this in the first place. Miss. “I Don’t Sleep With Teddy Bears” you say but whenever I go over to this bitches house her teddy bear is snuggled up with the duvet covers over Sargent Teddy,” as soon as your teddy bears name came out of his mouth, Chris immediately burst out in laughter making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment before hitting him on the shoulder to shut him up.

You groan and slightly glare at Nick who just sent you a wide smile in response, “She has similar privileges to Matt’s so if you sleep on the side that Sargent Teddy is sleeping on you either have to move the bear or you sleep on the floor. Same with Matt, if Sargent Teddy falls you have to pick him up and apologise before patting it on the head” your face was so warm you couldn’t help but laugh out loud when Nick said that last sentence making everyone burst out into laughter.

You and Matt hadn’t realised how similar you were, after dating for over a year your relationship was private still and you both weren’t ready to come public about your undeniable love for one another. You caught Matt’s eye as you came down from your laughing fit, Chris giggling every now and again but your cheeks heated up a bit more when you locked eyes with your boyfriend who sent you a quick wink before you went back to the video.

𝐀/𝐍: i hope you enjoyed, this is my first official like “one-shot” of the triplets that i have posted and hopefully it lived up to expectations.

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #fluff #teddy bear #matt stuniolo fanfic #cute

[crisiscutie]

Can we get wholesome advent sephiroth headcannons?

Maybe some aftercare?

Content Warning: NSFW.

He held you close, running his lips along your neck.

Even though he had little time left, he still wanted to make sure you are left pristine. After all, it's his responsibility to leave you in better condition after the intense sex you two had.

Your geostigma worked its way through your body, healing your cuts and soothing the lingering pain.

He couldn't contain himself earlier. It's been far too long for him in the Lifestream, deprived of any contact with you. It drove him mad.

The best he could do was to use his remnants to stay close to you, but you deserved your god in his entirety. You should not be satisfied with such trivial beings.

But now that he is here, he finally experiences a sense of peace that he hasn't felt in ages.

You shifted your body to be facing his, your lips almost touching his own. His warm, corrupted cum trailed down your thigh.

Did he really have to leave? It wasn't fair that you didn't have enough time with him. You found a piece of JENOVA, and that still wasn't enough for him to stay?

"...I'll still be with you. Mother," He said. Just before you opened your mouth, he continued to speak.

"You will bear me a new vessel... One that will allow me to stay within the world..."

Now it's time for you to be uncontained. Is it really possible?

"Then," he said, his beautiful slit eyes shone, "we will be free to have the planet as our vessel and sail the cosmos,". His cock throbbed once more, pressing against your ass.

You'd miss his remnants. You spent a long time with them, and they took care of you during these painful two years.

But at least they will be a part of the man dearest to you when the time comes.

As he faded into the Lifestream, he held your chin for one last time and sealed his departure with a lingering, passionate kiss.

He left Kadaj in his place, who looked a little confused and embarrassed.

You softly giggled and caressed his cheek, whispering about a small gift left by Mother...

Such a sweet reunion~

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth x reader #ff7 #final fantasy x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #reader smut #kadaj ff7 #kadaj

[littlemonday]

So much of the difference in player response to the Emperor vs. Raphael comes down to aesthetics.

I’ve been seeing a lot of fan posting of Raphael lately, which is honestly fine. I enjoy seeing fan creations on all the characters. But I feel like I need to address something that is, for me, rather glaring in the fandom. Raphael is a pretty popular character, while the Emperor gets so much hate posting I’ve had to block users and entire groups on other sites because it was so over the top. These characters are functionally quite similar in the game, but the disparity in how they’re each perceived couldn’t be more different.

Both characters need to form an alliance with the main character. Both characters need the main character to defeat the brain. Both characters are willing to manipulate the main character to meet their own ends. But, one character is a conventionally attractive middle aged man, and the other is a humanoid squid monster. (How many times have we all seen posts about how upset someone was when their hot dream guardian turned out to be the squid monster?)

Not only is Raphael conventionally attractive, but he stays that way when he reveals himself as a devil.The Emperor presents himself as someone the main character would trust, but when he’s finally revealed, he bears no resemblance to the facade he was wearing - a facade that he sincerely believed was necessary to keep himself safe and to win your trust. Raphael is quite literally the handsome devil. His ascended form barely makes an appearance, but even so that form is not alien. It’s devilish, but not alien, and “alien” unlike devilish, invokes a deeply discomforting fear of the unknown.

Raphael is all opulence and performance, wearing tailored clothing and living in a grandiose house that hides the horrors of what happens there until late into act 3. While the mind flayer colonies by comparison are grotesque organisms that look like the inside of a body, and the Emperor’s home is a bare bones cellar with the last remaining keepsakes of his former life. The chains he uses to hold his victims are right out in the open.

Raphael is like an old school campy Disney villain who tries to entertain you all while openly admitting that he wants you to come to him when you’re desperate and all hope is gone. And like those old Disney villains, he just enjoys being evil. He even comes with his own villain song that he sings. He enjoys your suffering. He’s openly playing with his food. The Emperor does try to seduce you, but mostly tries to appeal to your pragmatism and empathy. However, he doesn’t have Disney villain camp to help him out here. He embodies all the body horror and fear over the player's loss of humanity by virtue of him being a mind flayer. He does have a song, but most of us miss it on our first play through and don’t hear its tragic lyrics.

Raphael, and this one is perhaps the most frustrating to me, imprisoned and tortured Hope for years! He takes advantage of people, including orphans, and gets them to sign away their souls for eternal torment in exchange for something they desperately want or need in life. While the Emperor has that one infamous cutscene in which we see him enthrall Stelmane, but it comes on the heels of the player dehumanizing and provoking him. A lot of players will refer to this as a “call out” and a “mask off” moment, which is very disingenuous framing. It’s frustrating that so few players never seem to consider the deeper role their choices may play in triggering this scene: you treat him like an inhuman monster, and you get an inhuman monster. Players will complain all the time about how the Emperor manipulates you and lies about everything, but apparently in this one scene he’s suddenly being completely honest and not manipulating you? So many never consider the possibility of confirmation bias when it comes to this character.

As I said, this cutscene is an obvious threat, but I know that just because he’s threatening you, it doesn’t mean there’s no truth to what you’re seeing. However, it also doesn’t mean that this is somehow “the truth” as so many players seem to think it is. I’ll write more on this in another post, but there’s just not enough information in the game to make definitive conclusions on their relationship. And I bring this up because I don’t see anywhere near the outrage over Hope as I see over Stelmane.

Then there’s Ansur. The Emperor killed his love, Ansur, out of self defense (we know this from Ansur himself), and for a lot of players, this was what solidified their hatred for the Emperor, and they will endlessly hate post about it. Raphael, on the other hand, never killed any of his loves. But the reason he never killed any of his loves is because he’s never loved anyone. He’s incapable of it, and anyone he has killed was, at best, a mere tool for his use.

Which brings me to my next point, even though both characters are trying to manipulate you to their own ends, only the Emperor sees you as more than a means to an end. Raphael does not. In fact, I wrote a lot of words on this very topic.

I’ve had people tell me that they like Raphael more because he’s upfront with his intentions, while the Emperor isn’t. That’s not entirely true. The Emperor tells you he wants his freedom, even tells you the power he uses to protect you is power he’s stolen, but he goes to great lengths to hide his identity, where Raphael barely goes to any lengths at all. As I said, the Emperor sincerely believes he must do this to protect himself. He likes to puff his chest out, but he’s quite aware of his own vulnerability, so he lives a life in which he’s constantly hiding and disguising himself. He’s surviving, as he puts it in the end. Raphael is essentially a prince in the Hells who wields a lot of power, and whatever vulnerabilities he might have are well protected. Whatever difference this makes is not enough to justify the gulf in how much hate the Emperor receives versus how little Raphael does.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: this is not me saying that you have to like one character or dislike another. That’s personal, and I’m not going to waste time telling people how to feel. So please don’t take away from this that I want to see more hate posting about Raphael. I don’t! Please don’t hate post about any characters, and if you absolutely must, please don’t use character tags to do so. What I am saying is that there’s a clear double standard in this fandom, and I want more players to engage with this media in a way that is both empathetic and analytical. I think both of those things together can prevent a lot of toxicity.

#bg3 #the emperor #the emperor bg3 #bg3 emperor #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #raphael #media criticism #not a hate post #fandoms

[elwenyere]

What are some Cody-related headcanons you have? If you'd like to share 🙏

Hello Anon! Thank you so much for this wonderful ask. Cody is one of my favorite characters to write, and it's a joy to share some of the ideas and inventions that have come out of building stories for him.

I think one thing that's become crucial to the way I imagine Cody is that he's been thrust into this extremely high-responsibility, heavy-emotional-toll position at a super young age, and he's had to learn how to compartmentalize and repress pretty aggressively in order to keep doing his job. There are losses he just can't let himself fully acknowledge if he's going to remain functional (and he's very good at his job, so there will be more losses if he can't function), so I think of there being a distance - both deliberately cultivated and unconsciously formed - between what Cody's feeling and what he's saying, or even what he's thinking about consciously enough for it to surface in the narrative focalization.

That means that I see Cody as a character with an incredible strength of will and power of self-denial, but I also like to think about the small ways he might allow himself to blow off steam, and I imagine a lot of them would be sensory: extra spice in the food, a little flavored creamer in the caff, the ritual of smoking a cigarette, or of having sex - especially with someone with whom he's on the kind of footing that allows for eye rolling and shit-giving.

On that note, I also think of Cody as someone who derives satisfaction from solitude (which he hardly ever gets) and is maybe too good at bearing loneliness (which he gets more and more of as the war goes on). He has a fierce loyalty to his men, and he also has to order them to their deaths all the time. He understands that means he can't share the same kind of camaraderie with them that they share with each other. So he holds himself apart: someone many people respect, some resent, and few really know. But as isolated as that might make him feel, he's also got barely any time that he can truly call his own, so I imagine that maybe in a no-chip/Republic-wins AU he might decide to peace out for a while: go live by himself and do things that are low-stakes and build some habits that are totally his own.

I think he's so used to using anger - a kind of low-simmering, deeply saturating, furious indignation - as a substitute for fulfillment that he barely notices how much of his emotional apparatus is coated in frustration until he's struck by something that reopens the yearning - the curiosity and thirst and restlessness - that not even the brutal grind of being Marshal Commander of the Third Systems Army can crush out of him.

Also he's funny and he's sharp: that's important to me. Cody can absolutely read you for filth while sounding unremarkably polite, and you won't realize he's verbally shivved you until you're on the turbolift leaving the meeting.

Thank you again for this lovely ask, Anon!!! I hope this is close to what you had in mind by headcanon. <3<3<3

#star wars #commander cody #anon asks #thank you anon!!! #this was lovely to write

[marvelfanfics1]

Pairing: daddy!john b x little!reader x papa!jj

Warnings: age regression, some cursing

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were standing before the entrance of the country club, hands shaking and tears forming in your eyes while you call John B, anxiously waiting for him to pick up.

Just seconds later you hear him on the other line. "Hey baby..." He trails off, waving JJ over to him as he hears you starting to sob instantly. He puts you on speaker, trying to calm you down. "Baby, breathe. Are you hurt?"

"N-No..." You sniffle and both boys sigh in relief.

"Okay, can you tell me what's going on?" He asks, JJ pulling his hat off while pacing back and forth, desperate to know what or who made his girl upset.

"I-I was servin' one of the guests and-and he was bein' weird and tw- tried to touch me! I was bein' nice and told him not to...b-but later my boss came to me and fired me bee! Didn't do anythin' wrong-" You sob, hoping nobody hears you right now and he could hear your speech slurring a little and knows you're fighting to not slip in public.

"Mother-" JJ starts and John B gives him a warning glare, sending him off to get the keys for the Twinkie.

"It's okay, bun. Where are you right now?" He sounds calm but also he was boiling with anger, knowing that creep probably told your boss some shit, threatened or bribed him to fire you just because you told him no.

"M'outside before the entrance..."

"Alright, stay there. Me and papa are on our way, 'kay?" You didn't answer but John B knows you were nodding your head.

As soon as JJ was sure you weren't on the phone he started cursing and ranting while getting in the drivers side of the van. "I swear- imma beat the shit outta that asshole. How dare he? Fucking kooks-"

John B tunes him out, more focused on texting you to make sure you're alright and keeps you updated on how far away they are.

Soon enough they spot you standing before the country club, hugging yourself sadly. John B quickly goes to the back and slides the door open, jumping out to embrace you.

He scoops you up, getting back in the Twinkie he slides the door close before sitting down and cradles you in his arms. He brushes the strains of hair that stuck to your wet cheeks to the side, looking down at you with a comforting smile.

"M'sorry-" your bottom lip quivers and you went to hide your face in his chest.

"Hey, you don't have to be sorry at all. It's not your fault, okay? Neither of us are mad at you." He assures you, wiping the one tear from your cheek that slipped. "Right, JJ?"

"Huh- oh hell yea! We're proud of you for standin' up for yourself, cupcake. If something like that ever happens again you have my full permission to slap that person." JJ says catching you smiling a little through the review mirror, giving you a wink.

John B just rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything as your giggling at JJ's antics was better than seeing you cry. As much as he's the more responsible one he can't deny that he wishes you spat in that creeps face. Anyway, it was a shit job either way.

Maybe he can talk to Mr. Heyward about giving you a mini job.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ♡ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse @kissforvoid

For JJ:

@chiaraanatra

#little!reader #daddy!john b thoughts #papa!jj thoughts

[jaggedjot]

“Louis de Pointe du Lac. That's an interesting name.” “Louis of Pointe du Lac Plantation. My great-great-grandfather owned one. All that remains is the name.”

“And a sizable trust to oversee as a consequence. Capital accrued from plantations of sugar and the blood of men who looked like my great-grandfather but did not have his standing.”

When introducing himself to Daniel both in 1973 and in 2022, Louis alludes to the ways that the legacy of chattel slavery in the United States remains present through his life. The ramifications of this history will be explored further in his interviews; it is intrinsic to the racism that Louis describes experiencing, and it is built into the economic and cultural foundations of the societies that Louis has and continues to navigate through. The way that this subject is broached however, in both the past and present, specifically centres the relationship between slave plantations and Louis’ own affluence.

Daniel’s remark being prefaced by Louis offering to “Get the boy whatever he wants”, before carelessly pushing a platinum credit card between them, implicitly correlates Louis’ response with that ostentatious display of wealth. It is not an intentional association made by the characters, and Louis immediately downplays the link when he recognises it (“All that remains is the name.”). Given his reaction, it seems likely that Louis did not talk about this topic during his subsequent interview with Daniel, though, again, that does not mean it would have had no bearing on other matters discussed. By contrast in the present day, Louis broaches the subject himself and fairly openly acknowledges the correlation. It was a slave plantation and the exploitation of enslaved people that created the sizeable trust that paid for the house and lifestyle that Louis and his family enjoyed. While Louis does not state it directly, the unavoidable implication of Louis clarifying that his great-grandfather was black and had a different social status to that of slaves (“[…] the blood of men who looked like my great-grandfather but did not have his standing.”) is that several generations of Louis’ black relatives have, at least indirectly, financially profited from chattel slavery. It is unlikely that this wealth was all inherited after the fact, considering that the abolition of slavery in the United States occurred only a couple of decades before Louis was born. These pieces of information seem to contradict then the implicit suggestion of Louis’ earlier explanation in 1973, that the only direct bearing the de Pointe du Lac plantation has had on his life is a shared name.

Both the dismissal and the acknowledgement are characteristic of how Louis describes the past; factual as a basic statement but carrying additional implications whose accuracy is more questionable and or left carefully unexamined. This is a rhetorical device that aids Louis in maintaining control of the narrative and its meanings while avoiding, as much as he can, outright lies. While Louis does view Daniel as a necessity for him to revisit his story, it needs to be stated that this does not prevent Louis from consciously and unconsciously tailoring it for his audience. It is possible that Louis only acknowledges the subject at all in the second interview because he is aware that Daniel has likely done some background research on his family. Considering how insensitive to racial issues Daniel can be, as well as his deliberately combative and contrarian approach to interviewing, it may be that this is a subject that Louis does not want to explore with Daniel specifically; it is perhaps notable that the penthouse Louis shares with Armand contains at least two pieces of art (Slave Auction by Jean-Michel Basquiat, and Transformation by Ron Bechet) which are about chattel slavery. Regardless of the reason for Louis’ selectivity, this context continues to hover on the periphery of Louis’ story, adding additional layers of meaning to the events that follow.

It contextualises the contradictory feelings Louis has about his work as a landlord and pimp, roles that may step outside of the shadow of sugarcane and slavery but are only made possible through investing the profits of them. When Louis confesses to the ways he treats his workers, tellingly he invokes plantation imagery with “[…] I lie to myself, saying I'm giving them a roof and food and dollar bills in they pocket, but I look in the mirror, I know what I am; the big man in the big house, stuffing cotton in my ears so I can't hear their cries.”. This conflict then deepens the resentment Louis has towards his family for criticising how he provides for them, with Paul being the only member who even entertains the idea that they should not spend the money at all (“We should tithe that o'er to St. Augustine's 'fore this house falls in on us.”). Whereas the family judges Louis for connecting them to an industry they view as sinful and lacking respectability, contrasting it to the seemingly fondly remembered family plantation (“Daddy was here, we'd still be in sugar cane.”), Louis is troubled by the exploitative nature of that work and capitalism as a whole. Yet there are also times when Louis exhibits pride towards his business dealings (“And I was now the owner of the brightest club in the district. My club, my rules. […] It was everything I had ever wanted or wished for. […] I made a mountain of money, enough to retire and be buried like a pharaoh.”). This could be suggested to be partly because Louis has moved away from the legacy of his family’s past to create something that he can try to believe is helping his, primarily black, workers (“I paid the staff better, paid the band better, all the while helping those who had been with me down the block to better themselves.”).

Most significantly of all, this context adds an additional lens through which Louis and the audience can examine some of the overarching existential ideas that Louis has been grappling with throughout his life, and that the second interview brings to the forefront. How does the past continue to define our present? Can we be considered in any way culpable for the actions of others? What reparations can we make for the harm, deliberate and unintentional, that we do? The open-ended way that Louis approaches the link between his inherited wealth and chattel slavery, as well as the subsequent ways that these have shaped his life, is reflective of those unanswered questions. Louis is desperately trying to find, if not a definitive answer to these philosophical quandaries, an insight that can give his existence purpose and direction. It is vital to Louis that his experiences offer some greater lesson (“That's the purpose. Our book must be a warning as much as anything.”), and ideally one that he can prove that he has already learnt. The different ways that Louis approaches the subject in 1973 and 2022 then reflect how he is revaluating the past and himself (“The passage of time and the frailties that accompany it have provided me perspective.”), but despite this, critically and symbolically, Louis still does not seem to have come to any conclusions.

#one of the worst things that I think can happen to art is for its nuances and complexities to be dulled and sanded away #because of others inability or refusal to engage with them #I wanted to write about these lines and specifically the one in the first episode #because they are great examples of how much depth is contained in the writing #how complex a person Louis is #as well as Louis' wonderful ability to casually throw a line in that we then think about for days #I have in fact been writing this analysis over the course of two weeks #because I have accepted that I will never get my analysis done before season two #(actually it makes me feel slightly ill when I think about it) #but at least this thousand plus word analysis is about a couple lines of dialogue instead of just one #that may be progress #anyway racists DNI #Louis de Pointe du Lac #Interview with the Vampire #Vampterview

[tipsyleaf]

No okay, cause Leon’s wife def had an old stinky cat that just wouldn’t die when they were first dating. That cat had probably lost all of its 9 lives already, it was hanging on by a thread. But it was so loving! Poor kitty, was probably rubbing up against her stomach all day the day she went into labor with Violet. Isn’t that crazy, cats can predict when women go into labor before they even feel anything??

Eventually the poor kitty passed, and as time passed by and they had more kids, I could see Leon getting a family dog. Probably a German shepherd or golden retriever. The kids had some pets as well, I could see Violet having some weird pet like a snake or a bearded dragon, which her mother would deathly be afraid of.

Cecilia probably has a cat, she calls it kitty. Or a hamster. That hamster randomly just disappeared one day, and no one knows where it is.

- Anon! 🎀

(God this was fun to think about this stuff!)

His wife had an old crusty cat that was almost as old as she was when Leon and her met. Just a little old lady cat named Winnie who would scream at Leon until he picked her up. You knew Leon was the one because she usually hated men but adored him with her entire little old lady heart. I imagine she probably died not long after Violets first birthday. But everyday that cat would be laying by her tiny humans crib. Protecting her as she slept.

The dog probably came after Cecilia was born (DI Era Leon cause the timeline matches up) a dog that got brought into the DSO as a therapy animal. His name's Smokey and Leon took him on. That dog is as spoiled as the kids are. Constantly up Leon's ass wherever he is in the house. You think it's the universe giving you a pat on the back for all the times he's bugged you while trying to have some time to yourself.

Violet would have a male ferret. Name it Stretch. And it's not that her mother's scared of the ferret... It's just very noisy and messy. But Violet loves this thing. Carries him around the house on her shoulders so he can "feel tall". She taught him how to play dead. Wears him like a decorative scarf and he doesn't care. Violet probably even has a tunnel system going around her room leading different ways just to go back to his cage.

Cecilia definitely has a teddy bear hamster. She originally wanted a rabbit so her parents got her a hamster as a starter pet to see how responsible she is. Puff, the hamsters name, often goes missing... Not on purpose! He's a tricky little bugger that even got away from her mom and dad when she went away to camp for a month during the summer. He was missing for a week but you woke up one morning and found him in the cabinet in the kitchen when making coffee. Nearly had a heart attack, but he was perfectly fine. So eventually you and Leon upgraded this hamster to the life of luxury, a giant tank with attached playground for him to run around in. He hasn't escaped since!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

[clockwork-ashes]

Mirrors

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been.

Summary: The Lady of Autumn has a difficult conversation with her eldest son (one-shot).

Find more Autumn Court one-shots here :)

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been. 

Callista.

Chosen by her father, a name both sharp and beautiful, perhaps a wish that she would grow up and be the same. The male who had raised her was centuries dead, along with the rest of her family, and Callista was achingly alone. 

There was a certain reverence to each of her titles, she could admit, thick as blood as they fell from the lips of those around her. 

Lady. 

Wife. 

Mother. 

The last and worst of them all, like a knife taken to her chest each time it was uttered, a reminder of everything she had never wanted. 

“Mother.” The crack of a whip, harsh and unexpected, even after the countless years that had passed. Time moved slow as honey, and the word was no less difficult to bear. 

With a wince, Callista looked up at her eldest son, feeling small in front of his towering frame. The corridor they were in was empty, torches flickering and casting long shadows on the stone walls. There were no windows, making it seem as though it was late at night when Callista knew the sun had just gone up, had watched as she did every morning as it inched over the horizon. . 

Lovely and sharp like shards of broken glass, Eris scowled. 

Callista knew he looked like her, it had always been the case. Nobles and servants alike attested to their similarities, like mirrors, they whispered, meant as a compliment she was sure. 

Firstborn, heir to the throne, Eris had never smiled as a child. Hair scarlet as fresh blood, eyes amber gemstones, pale as bone and cruel in his beauty, he still reminded her of Beron. 

Eris’ full lips were pulled down slightly at the corners in a frown, and Callista hummed in response.

“Have you been listening?” Eris questioned, and she could hear the disbelief whirling in the words. 

“Of course,” she waved a hand dismissively as she told the lie. Her mind had been elsewhere and she did not feel like explaining herself to her son. 

Eris’ lips curled up slowly, the smile empty as his eyes flared with embers in annoyance. “Then I won’t repeat myself.” He shrugged, the movement elegant even without an audience there to witness it. “Lucien’s bags are packed and we’ll be in the eastern territories, should anyone ask.” 

As though she were a puppet with her strings pulled taught, Callista straightened her spine, the sound of blood rushing to her head loud as a river in her ears. “Why?” She managed to ground out, worry deep in her gut. 

Eris raised an auburn brow at her, false confusion on his face. “It’s as I’ve said.” 

Quick as a snake, her fingers fangs, Callista grabbed onto the High Lord’s heir. Flames flashed in her russet eyes as she spoke. “Don’t play games, Eris.” She was not in the mood, and she hoped her tone suggested as much. 

“Never,” he clipped, attempting to pull away. Callista held firmly to the sleeve of his shirt, and Eris let her. “Fair to say you hadn’t been listening?” 

“Speak, Eris,” the demand was rough, and she felt as Eris bristled, although nothing of the sort showed on his face. 

Eris clicked his tongue, mocking despite how serious Callista was. “One of these days, you’ll find that I should be unwilling to help you.” It could have been a threat or a promise, but Callista was not certain.

“Not this day,” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat with anger. The torches in the empty hallway flared around them. “Do I have to beg you?”

Eris pulled his arm back with a scowl, looking very much like his father. He straightened his shirt with a stiff gesture. “Have I ever asked you for such a thing?” 

“Hardly seems like you’re above it.” 

For decades, there had been a strain between them. Beron’s favourite son, the child she had never wanted but loved despite it. Complicated and entirely out of her control, she could still remember crying when Eris had been born. It had only gotten worse as the decades had passed, as Lucien had grown. 

Perhaps it was hurt that flashed starbright on Eris’s lovely features, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. Expressionless and cold as ice, Eris spoke. “If you’d been paying attention, mother, you would have heard that father doesn’t want Lucien in the Forest House.” He scowled as he continued,  “at least for a little while.” 

“Why?” She asked again, praying Eris would give her an honest answer.  

“To keep him away from you, he told me,” Eris’s gaze was searching. “You spoil him.” 

“He’s a sweet boy, everyone spoils him,” Callista said, her mouth tight. That much was true, she had seen it with her own eyes, how charmed the entirety of Autumn was with her youngest son. 

“Father gave Lucien one of his daggers, you know the one with the fox hilt?” she nodded, unsure what Eris was about to say. “His to keep, first weapon handed from father to son.” Tradition, Callista knew, was valued in Autumn, where a change in power had not been had for centuries. “Would have been heartwarming,” Eris said, a restrained anger in his tone, “If not for the fact that Lucien’s eyes shone gold as daylight to ruin the moment.” 

As though she had been struck, Callista reared back. Beron had known since Lucien had been born, had seen fit to punish them all for her infidelity, but Lucien had still been claimed as his seventh son. Protection and a curse all at once. The shame would have been too great, Beron had said, to have a disloyal wife and a child that was not his own. 

“Eris–” 

He raised his hand to silence her. “Is joy to blame? Sunbright eyes only when Lucien is happy?” 

“Yes,” Callista breathed, her nerves getting the best of her, panic a near unbearable weight on her slim shoulders. She smelled copper, the sharp tang of blood, and thought it was her own. It took her a moment to realise that Eris had bitten through his cheek, an anxious habit he had inherited from her. 

Mirrors. 

“I’m taking him to my home in the east,” Eris said softly, attempting to comfort her. “Handle your husband and send word when we can return.” 

Callista felt tears embarrassingly begin to form at the corners of her eyes. “Can I say goodbye?” Her voice was small and she felt pathetic, like a horrible mother, her curse to bear. 

Eris looked ready to deny her wish, but perhaps he sensed her despair, her worry in the face of the unknown. With a sigh, a hand running through his hair, Eris offered her his arm. “I think Lucien would be devastated if you didn’t.” 

Relief rained over Callista as she gently held onto her eldest son. “Thank you, Eris,” she said ever so quietly. 

Eris did not respond, and Callista wondered if he even heard her.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #autumn court #the lady of autumn #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #he's not in this but it's about him #vanserra family #i can't stop thinking about loa and eris #thank you to everyone who reads <3 #ashes writes sometimes

[petalsscribbles]

7. memories

Since his injury, Yn gets to stay at home. He could also work from the comfort of their bedroom but Jay, being the overprotective husband he is, won't let him. He even went as far as threatening to confiscate his laptop is he doesn't rest properly.

"I'm home." He calls, getting a hum as a response. After shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes, Jay enters their living room. Yn is seated on the floor, laser focused on making a braclet out of colorful beads, shapes and letters sprawled out on the coffee table in front of him.

Jay throws loosens his tie before sitting on the sofa right behind Yn, feet planted on each side of his body.

"What are you making?" He asks softly, leaning in beside Yn's left ear.

"I think you mean what I'm trying to make." Yn answers with a hint of defeat in his voice.

"Then what are you trying to make, dear?" He rephrases.

"A bracelet."

"For me?"

"No, but I could make you one if you want." Yn offers. Jay hums in agreement.

"If it won't be too much trouble." He adds before wrapping his arms around Yn's shoulders. One hand raises to move few strands of his husband's hair to check the stiched wound, even though he doesn't know the first thing about surgery.

"How's your head? Does it hurt?"

Yn leans back with a sigh.

"Of course it doesn't. It never hurt all that much in the first place."

Jay's eyes wander back to the unfinished accessory. It's simple, switching several colours in a nice pattern.

"Do you like it?" Yn asks, bringing it closer.

"Yeah. It reminds me of the key chain you made me before I flew to America."

Several years ago...

Jongseong's shoes feel like they're made out of lead as he follows their butler. He doesn't want to leave. Not at all. And so far away at that.

Maybe if it weren't for certain someone, he would welcome a change of scenery, a break from his overbearing father, an escape from the cold, loveless mansion he calls home.

But there is certain someone. And for that certain someone, he'd bear with his father's nags and slept in his bed that's way too big for a teenage boy.

But it doesn't matter what he wants, what and who he loves. As long as his name is Park Jongseong, he doesn't have a choice.

He's about to get into the shiny black Mercedes when someone calls his name. It's the reason the short walk from his room to the street outside felt like torture.

"Yn, what are you doing here?" He asks as the boy catches his breath.

"Here." He says and hands him a key chain. It's made out of beads, with a little star at the end with the letter J drawn on it. "I made this for you."

"Why?" Is all Jay can punch out of his chest as he examines it.

"So you don't forget me too quickly." Yn tries to joke, but there is a tinge of sadness in his words.

"I don't know what to say." He states honestly.

"You can start by thank you."

"Young master, we have to go." The servant says, but Jay pays him no mind.

Say it. Beg me to stay. Ask me to run away with you. Tell me you can hide me in your cellar. Just say anything so I don't have to go.

"Have a safe flight." Is what Yn says, and it might just be the cruelest words Jongseong's ever heard.

Present day...

"You remember that?" Yn asks, slightly surprised. Jay just reaches into his pocket, fishing out his keys and presenting them to Yn.

The key chain is stil attached, although the star has a few scratches and the letter is almost completely faded.

Yn takes the keys and runs his thumb along his gift.

"Why do you still have this?"

"Because it's cute." He lies.

a/n: is this cute? Is this sad? I dunno you tell me.

taglist OPEN comment/ send ask to be added

@starchasing-cryptid @onementally-unstabel-kid @nootnootpinguuu @kkurbys @gnusihcom @silkentides @monstaxpuppy @bubblztaro @lavanderxamour @zzzavid @thishastwentyletters @dkmyman @tarotarosung @darlingz99 @moonslie04

prev masterlist next

#enhypen #enhypen smau #enhypen x male reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen jay smau #enhypen jay x male reader #enhypen jay x reader

[popironrye]

The Lost Boys

Leisure Headcanons

💋 David 💋

Is a skilled fire arm shooter. (Loves the cowboy aesthetic)

Has his own gun hidden in the cave.

Doesn't get the chance too often, but will ride a horse when the chance arises.

Likes wood carving. Mostly non specific whittling into basic shapes or animals. It helps him relax.

Movie nut! When the boys go the Max's store to fool around, David makes sure to tuck a movie or two that catches his eye in his coat. Tends to watch them alone, all the questions from Paul would just grate on his nerves too much.

I imagine David would be like REALLY good at origami for no particular reason. He doesn't even try, just once the boys do it just because and he's just the best at it.

I don't know if vampires can emerge in water in the lost boys lore, but if they can David loves to swim. Chilling in water clears his mind.

💀 Dwayne 💀

Skater boi! Does a lot of sick tricks, but when you can levitate it's less impressive. XD

Doesn't care for guns, but likes archery. Hammers his own arrow heads. Dwayne and David like to pick a spot in the woods to shoot make shift targets.

A real book worm. Will spend a lot of time just silently reading for hours.

Takes up knitting from time to time. He prefers hand knitted blankets and throws rather then the store ones.

Likes to make jewelry. Made his own necklace.

Enjoys all types of puzzles. Cross word, jigsaw, and brain teasers.

Can sew and offers to sew up holes made in all the clothes the boys decide not to get new ones.

🌿 Paul 🌿

Can play the guitar.

Also likes to sing, and is pretty good at it. Wanted to start a band, but the other boys weren't up for it.

Has the biggest music collection and is always hogging the tabletop/cassette/cd player.

Amateur photography. Just likes to take photos randomly. Some are really artsy.

Got really into tie dye for a while. Although he might have just been high.

When he wants to relax, Paul really likes to stargaze. Laying outside the cave looking at the sky and hearing the waves of the ocean just makes him feel at peace.

When David isn't using the tv monitor, Paul enjoys quite a few video games. He also likes to take on the arcade and carnival games at the boardwalk.

🪶 Marko 🪶

Aside from pigeons, Marko will try to domesticate a number of animals to the cave, including stray dogs, cats, deer, badgers, squirrel, foxes, bats, and even a black bear once.

He did in fact not domesticate a black bear, but he did wrestle one.

He does his own patchwork on his jacket.

Like David, he likes to sculpt into wood, but he usually carves patterns and landscapes into more grand pieces.

He's also a skilled painter. Mostly he'll paint murals on sections of the cave David says is ok for him to paint on.

He collects sea shells on the beach.

He'll style the others hair. Especially David who he'll cut and dye in the way he likes best.

🔥Pack Activities🔥

Dart throwing. The bigger the target the better. David and Dwyane are very competitive at this one specifically.

Rollerblading. Put wheels on shoes, what more can you want?

Listening to music. The boys have very wide music tastes and sometimes they cross over and they all like the same stuff. They take turns around the player of their choice to just smoke, drink, and listen to the sounds of the music plays.

Card games. Specifically poker when they're all together. They make things more interesting when they make bets.

And of course motocycle cruising and board walk loitering.

Something that always strikes me with vampires in fiction and indeed with any immortal creature with the high and emotional intelligence of humans. IMMORTALITY IS FUCKING BORING!

I mean, think about it. Imagine you're given all the free time in the world with very little responsibility with no fear of getting sick or tired allowed to do pretty much whatever you want. What would you do? Cause I would go stir crazy. So I came up with these dumb little head canons on how I image the boys specifically would pass the time in their little vampire lives that doesn't revolve around murdering and feeding off of people.

Of course cruising on their bikes come to mind. And there's a couple in the movie we get to see like Dwayne's skateboarding and Marko's fondness for pigeons but I wanted to throw more possibilities out there. :3

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #david the lost boys #dwayne tlb #dwayne the lost boys #paul tlb #paul the lost boys #marko tlb #marko the lost boys #tlb headcanons #my headcanons #headcanon #hc #share your thoughts

[poetryandfluffycats]

Poker face

A/N: i wanna write a death note fic....

Pairing: Husband!Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Content: You husband, Fyodor, doesn't tell you much about himself. He says that his stories will just bore you, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of murder, fyodor is a warning in itself😭

Words: 521

Oneshot under cut!

Fyodors eyes met mine from across the table, his cold gaze never leaving me even as he reached for his glass of wine and took a long sip. I watched his adams apple bob up and down with each swallow, the red liquid slowly disappearing from the glass. Our staring contest continued as he placed the glass down, leaning back in his chair resting his hands comfortably in his lap.

"How was your day, dear?" There was a smirk in his voice, even if it didn't show on his face. He didn't need to ask, he knew. He always knew.

"Fine" I blinked, keeping my face as neutral as possible. If I showed any cracks in my facade, he would have the upper hand. He would win. "Yours?"

"A bore" Fyodor sighed, moving his chess piece forward on the board. "Don't worry yourself, a worried wife is a useless one"

His words used to hurt me, burrowing like maggots into my brain and rotting away. Now I understood that I shouldn't take it to heart. That our marriage was a loveless one to begin with. That there was no reason to care for insults from a husband who only married me to use me as a tool in his game.

"Same for a worried husband, no?" I quipped back, moving my own piece. "Checkmate"

"You're learning" He chuckled, the corners of his lips curling into the slightest smile. He didn't smile much, or at least, not a genuine smile. Whether this one was real or not, I had no idea. It looked more out of mockery than anything. "Shall we go to bed, or do you have more snarky comments for me?"

"It's only 9pm" I tilted my head to the side, eying up the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

"Is that an issue?"

"For a man who stays up all night working on something he won't tell me about, yes. Why so tired now?"

Fyodor sighed again, shaking his head and sending me a sharp glare. "Don't ask me questions you don't want the answer too"

A classic response. A warning, more like. Fuck around and find out, poke the bear and get eaten, or which ever cliché phrase you wanted to use. It was true, however. I didn't want to know what he got up too at his work-which he had told me was an office job that would 'simply bore me to death'.

But I had seen him leave late in the night, seen him return covered in blood, seen the headlines the next morning and heard the gossip from the woman in town.

A terrorist organization, the Rats they called it, revoking havoc all over the country. The leader had been spotted too many times to count, a sicky Russian man with a piercing purple gaze.

I wasn't stupid.

But I wouldn't pry, either. I had all the information I was going to get. Because if there was one thing Fyodor was best at, it was his poker face.

"Fine. Bed it is"

"That's a good girl, tuck me in, will you?"

#oneshot #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x reader #decay of angels #writers on tumblr

[wiltking]

me whenever i see a review of The Still complaining about rodrigo being a whiny insufferable emo brat: you know nothing of adolescent rage. of a grief that poisons the self and all who come in contact with the sufferer. of the obsession and obligation and expectation to become a man without a loving father figure and now with the fresh loss of a mother. of narrative immaturity in a story about maturing in the midst of grief and military conflict from the perspective of a kid who isnt ready for it, any of it, but needs to be. who shirks responsibility until he loses the one final thing he can't bear to lose. whose power hinges on his abstinence from the very thing that is his idea of what it means to become a man. the sheer effort it takes to love someone like rodrigo when he is at his absolute worst, and the effortless way rustin does it anyway.

#🗣️ you would never last a day in rustin's shoes you will never be the perfect conqueror of grief #rodrigo of caledon #roddy posting again #book thoughts

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc idea 61

This turned out to be way longer then i planned. It was just meant to be a quick idea. Not a full like plan. So quick prompt below then a full idea.

Amanda Waller started the GIW. They captured small ghost at first. Had success in controlling them. Catch Danny. Convince him the league is in cahoots with him in case of an escape. He escapes. They get other ghosts and launch attacks against the league as an outside force obviously no connection to Amanda Waller. So Danny now is trying to deal with mind controlled ghosts all while avoiding the government and league. During a direct attack on the league Danny breaks a ghost out the mind control. Danny is then forced to work alongside them as the one he freed actually talked thing out with the league.

**

Imma give Danny an big reason to not trust the justice league. The Giw are working for Amanda Waller. Obviously trying to figure out a way to use those from the infinite realm as tools/weapons. These beings have proven to be a force to to deal with. Plants taking over, citizens forced into sweet dreams, kidnapping and the over shadowing of a whole town to vote in a mayor.

It’s the perfect way to take down the justice league. It won’t even look like the government played a part in it.

Now after freak show proved they could be controlled things get more intense. They begin capturing ghosts and trying out ways to control them. Test after test until they started to have successful trial runs.

They start with the animal ones, those who can’t actively communicate what’s going on if they escape. Figuring out ways to stop/force powers and stuff along those lines. They work extremely well in on the animals.

Animal ghost began to commander items for the group never getting caught. Following orders with no hesitation.

They get competent quickly this time around. Successfully capturing phantom. The one who was originally under freak shows mind control. Now imma give Danny even more altered dna cause he’s half human. Things don’t work on him the same as the others. If he’s a ghost it works just fine but as a human not so much. So freak show only controlled phantom never Danny.

Now obviously this is problematic for Giw and Amanda. The first time he turned back all progress had been lost. Danny had full control of himself again. Now She can’t have him going off and telling ppl about this. Their pretty positive he won’t be able to escape. Both ghost and human restraints are in use. Just in case convinces him the Justin league all work with them. That no one would help them.

Now Danny escapes. Not unharmed. He has injures and newly made scars. He avoided going ghost at all costs the second time they controlled him. It’s far easier to force him back into his natural human state then to get him to unwillingly go ghost.

How he escaped well he had some help. One of the agents perhaps an undercover hero helped aid him.

Danny is on his own and doesn’t know what to do. Slowly beings of the realm get captured. Coming under there control.

With enough members of the infinite realm the attack happens. Under the disguise of otherworldly beings. No need for Amanda or the GIW to be known.

So the justice league has a new threat. Danny won’t even consider the justice league to help or going to Sam or tucker. He didn’t want his human friends or family to be involved. He didn’t even manage to warn the realm.

When his rogues and his ghostly allies start attacking the human realm Danny knows what’s up. He knows it’s not them. Skulker could be bought out, but he wasn’t even threatening to take his pelt. So Danny knows he’s under control as well. He starts to counter them best he can. Theres just too many of them. Danny never manages to get close to any to occupied trying to protect the human civilians from the ghosts.

It would have been far too suspicious of the ghosts just attacked the league right away. Better to force the league to go out and protect a town or two.

A direct attack on the league is when Danny is fully revealed to the league. They already knew about phantom protecting civilians. They had to have noticed. One of his Allie’s maybe frostbite, Dora or maybe even pandora is leading the charge. Whoever it is Danny breaks the control on them. Only do to the fact the league is holding off some of the ghosts. Imma go with pandora.

He breaks pandora free after getting a near fatal blow. Her eyes no longer glowing under control. She comes to with him injured. Pandora is powerful and decimates the remaining ghosts forcing them to retreat.

The justice league has questions. Now they know it’s some form of mind control. Obviously they are aware of phantom as he publicly has been defending against attacks. At this point there is no way they haven’t figured out how to hit the ghosts. Tech works on them in cannon, magic works so they had to have figured out something. Now the problem comes in with the number they are facing. How they ghosts just keep growing in number.

Where the league requires weapons or magic Danny and Pandora just then had taken out huge swarms of the ghosts without any weapons.

Here’s where the problem kicks in. Danny is convinced the league is apart of the problem. Danny hasnt really connect the dots yet. He is terrified they’ll cause pandora to be mind controlled again. Despite the fact the attack was against the league. The two dip before anything is said between the parties.

Now the league are dealing with ghosts under mind control and the person who managed to break one of them out looked terrified of them. Maybe it was Wonder Woman who originally approached it is pandora after all.

Pandora who is not a scared teenager working purely on impulse connects the dots.

Danny is a not the most logical person at this time. She’s the one who actually approaches the league. To get both sides of the story despite Danny’s protests. She does meet him halfway and just arranged a meeting with wonderwoman. Away from the watchtower.

Her meeting with wonder woman only confirms things.

This leads to Danny begrudgingly working with them. He doesn’t trust them by any means. But he trusts pandora. Pandora sends a message to the realm. About what’s going on.

She stays because the GIW have her box. Just to add more drama. So ghost and evil running amok. They can stop and influx of at least one.

The infinite realm cut access to the human realm. They won’t risk more of there people getting taken. If a portal opens up a team goes through to destroy it. Natural portals are rare and and not a big problem. But happen. Those ones get heavily guarded going forward.

No new ghost. The rest still under control. Pandora could fight them off. The issue is the mind control. She’s susceptible. At one point she nearly gets under control again. Danny steps in.

He went through it all. Knows what they are doing, how they are doing it. He lived it.

Danny has been phantom whenever around the league. At one point the mind control is directed back at him. He goes human right in front of them.

With the leagues help they find a way to massively break the control on the ghosts. Danny has had time to realize he had been in fact lied to. Sam, Tucker and Jazz get a chance to yell at Danny for leaving them behind. Because i like the angst it brings it get brought up that it was the Fenton parents who sold him out.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp dc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #justice league #Amanda Waller #I’ve been rewatching justice league and justic leauge unlimited so i have thoughts #mind control is just too common in dc #then it’s happens in Danny phantom #pandora #pandora nearly killing phantom broke her free #she hurt the baby ghost #Danny is running of 7 shots of expresso and fear #he is strong but come on. let him be a scared teen #not the one who bears all the responsibility. #I’ve been stuck with this idea in my brain for the last week #I’m very susceptible to peer pressure on this idea #should i actually flush my idea into a fic when i finish my quarter in two weeks #like I’ll have a full week before my summer classes start #maybe vlad comes in at some point to help #pandora can go recruit Ellie #Ellie gets to be pandoras favorite halfa. i have decided #Danny and Ellie set off Batman’s adoption sense when they go human the first time #all he has to do it convince them they mean no harm #the possibilities are endless #vlad potentially teaming up with the Giw. #he sees an opportunity to get Danny as his son. mind control would work better then cloning him