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beloveds-embrace · 10 months ago

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╰┈➤ A Harbinger’s Claim

Spoilers for 5.1 Archon Quest, yandere capitano x reader

yan!capi x soldier!reader who used to idolize/adore him? 👀

Specifically, you used to be a black serpent knight who worked under him. From the very first day you met him, you could not help but admire him; such a strong, powerful man- worthy of being a commander, worthy of being loved and respected. Your crush on him, your own commander, had been visible to any and all that cared to look. And that included even him, as well.

Though he never quite returned your feelings. all of your attempts at catching his attention fell flat. Your commander did not care for romance, and did not care for you beyond you being a knight under his command. Still, you persisted and tried your best again and again to earn his praise and affection- through always training, keeping spare food from your own rations for him, willing to do any and all tasks.

And then, Khaenri'ah falls, and you get injured and cursed to a painful immortality. It's devastating, it's cruel and painful and you end up separating from your group, including your commander- never knowing what happens to him.

Five hundred years pass in resentment and bitterness, then a bone-deep exhaustion and now...

The wind howls over the desolate, forgotten battlefield, carrying with it memories of long-lost battles and fallen comrades. You stand among the remnants, staring at the tattered banner of a past era. The centuries have been cruel, not just to the land, but to you. You don't know why you came back here, yet you can't bring yourself to leave just yet.

Your legs ache- a dull, persistent pain that has been your constant companion for centuries. The curse has worn you down, body and soul, until all that remains is a tired will to survive. You sigh and shift your weight, leaning heavily on the stone slab you were using to remain upright. There’s little left to fight for now. Just a hollow existence.

Then, you feel it- the heavy presence of someone behind you. It’s not the first time you’ve felt a presence like this, and for a brief moment, a flicker of recognition stirs in your chest. You turn slowly, your body heavy with exhaustion, and there he is. Once, he'd been your commander. Now, he is a Fatui Harbinger.

Capitano.

The man you once idolized, the commander you adored. But that was so long ago, so distant it feels like another lifetime. Now, the sight of him- tall, imposing, clad in the black armor- stirs nothing inside you but weariness. His mask is as dark and unreadable as the void, hiding every part of his face, giving no hint of the man beneath. The commander you knew is long gone, replaced by this Harbinger, cold and unrelenting. Even if certain traits still exist within him.

“You’ve come back,” you murmur, your voice barely louder than the wind.

His head tilts ever so slightly, the black mask making it impossible to see his eyes. Yet you can feel his gaze locked on you, weighing you down even more. Once, you would have given everything for such attention.

“I’ve come to claim you.” he replies, his voice deep and resonating from behind the mask. The sound of it is steady, almost indifferent, yet it carries an unsettling weight of finality.

You don’t move, don’t resist. The fatigue that has plagued you for centuries sinks deeper into your bones. “Claim me?” you echo softly, chuckling. “What’s left to claim, Capitano? There’s nothing here anymore. I hold no adoration for you anymore."

The mask remains still, impenetrable, yet his presence grows more suffocating as he steps closer. “You were always mine,” he says quiet yet resolute. “And you still are.”

You sigh, not out of fear, but of sheer exhaustion. The energy to fight him, to resist, just isn’t there anymore. “I’m not the same soldier I used to be, commander. That person’s long gone. You should leave me here, where I belong.”

But Capitano doesn’t leave. Instead, his gloved hand reaches out and grips your wrist, firm but not painful. You don’t pull away. You simply look at him, weary and resigned, watching as he brings out a ring, dark as his armor. You don’t ask why—your mind too clouded with fatigue to even care.

He slides the ring onto your finger, his voice low and steady. “This is your place, with me. You’ve wandered for too long.”

You look down at the ring. It's cold. “It’s been centuries, Capitano,” you say, your voice a whisper. “Do you really still think I belong to you?”

He pulls you closer, until you’re pressed against his chestplate, the harsh cold of his armor making you shiver. His masked face hovers above yours, unreadable, but his grip is firm, unyielding. “I never stopped thinking it,” he murmurs, voice deep and possessive. “You admired me once- more than anyone. That devotion is mine to keep.”

You don’t fight him. You can’t. The years have taken too much out of you. “That was a lifetime ago,” you sigh, resting your head lightly against his armor. “I’m not sure I even know who you are anymore.”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark certainty. “You will stay with me. We will be wed, and you will never be alone again. Your suffering ends with me.”

For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the heavy weariness wash over you. Part of you wants to resist, to push him away. But the truth is, you’re tired- so tired. The centuries of pain and solitude have worn you down to the point where even the idea of fighting feels like too much. Capitano’s grip is cold, but it’s steady, and in that moment, you almost feel… relieved. You don’t want to admit it, but the thought of someone else taking control, of someone else carrying the weight you’ve been shouldering alone, is tempting. Especially if it's him.

“Is this really what you want?” you ask, though you already know his answer.

His arms tighten around you, drawing you in even closer. “It’s not just what I want,” he says, voice low. Unbending. “It’s what will be.”

He lifts you into his arms with ease, your body too tired to struggle, too worn to protest. You glance up at the dark mask once more, seeing nothing but the void where his face should be. And yet, for the first time in what feels like ages, you don’t feel completely alone.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“Snezhnaya,” he answers, his tone firm and absolute. “My home. Where you belong.”

You let out a soft sigh, leaning into his chest, your body going limp in his hold. “I’m too tired to fight you, Capitano. I don’t think I care anymore.”

His response is unwavering. “You won’t need to fight. You’ll be with me now. I’ll take care of you.”

As he begins to walk, each step echoing the finality of your fate, you close your eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion. The world around you fades, and all you can feel is his steady, unrelenting presence. The future, dark and uncertain, is no longer your burden to bear. So what if your freedom is to be taken away?

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” you murmur faintly.

“I do,” Capitano replies, his masked face tilting down toward you, his voice calm yet possessive. If he holds you any tighter, the claws of his armor would dig into your skin. “You’re mine. That is all you need.”

And as the cold winds of the battlefield sweep behind you, you let go of whatever fight you had left.

Part 2

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urdreamydoodles · 7 months ago

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DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl) & Slade Wilson

After a short festive break, I'm back in force with my headcanons. My (hyper) brain has been obsessed with DC lately, so get ready for some DC headcanons with new characters I've never done before. I missed you all, love, Marie.

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- You didn’t mean to do it. Well, that’s a lie. You absolutely meant to do it. The way Bruce’s broad, suited figure strode past you in the Batcave was simply too tempting. There he was, the epitome of brooding composure, running a hand through his dark hair as he mulled over crime scene reports. Without much thought, your hand acted on instinct. Smack. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. Bruce stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, an arched eyebrow lifting to meet his ever-present scowl. "Really?" he asked, voice calm but laced with that unmistakable Wayne edge.

- His reaction wasn’t anger, though you could see the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. You, the only one in Gotham—or perhaps the world—who could dare to breach his stoicism with something so mundane as a playful swat. You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, though your smirk betrayed you. “What? Just testing your reflexes, Mr. Wayne.” He took a slow step toward you, his shadow sprawling like a cloak. “I thought you’d want to keep that hand intact,” he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice that belied the threat.

- Bruce never let much show, but you knew the man beneath the cowl better than anyone. As much as he loved his mission, as much as he carried Gotham on his weary shoulders, he loved you more. There was no hiding the way his stern exterior softened around you, how his dark eyes gleamed with affection when he thought you weren’t looking. And now, despite his unflinching persona, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in the way he lingered near, uncertain if he should let himself laugh.

- “Next time,” he finally said, his voice low, “make sure Alfred isn’t around to hear it.” His lips quirked into the barest smile before he turned back to the Batcomputer. Yet, as he walked away, you could swear he slowed his stride, almost as if daring you to do it again. You didn’t, of course. Not then. But the idea of Gotham’s Dark Knight flustered by a simple smack was too delicious to forget. And Bruce knew it.

Clark Kent (Kal-El) aka. Superman

- Clark didn’t see it coming. How could he, when he was too busy carrying three bags of groceries in each hand and balancing a box of pastries in the crook of his elbow? You watched him shuffle toward the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his wholesome, Midwestern charm radiating even in the simplest acts. As he passed, you couldn’t resist. Smack. The clap of your hand against his ridiculously perfect backside made him jump slightly, the pastries nearly tumbling from his grip. “Hey!” he exclaimed, spinning around, cheeks flushed pink.

- For someone faster than a speeding bullet, Clark sure could get caught off guard by you. His face was an endearing mix of surprise and bashfulness, and you swore the man looked like he’d just been scolded by Ma Kent herself. “What was that for?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion but also a hint of laughter. You shrugged, batting your lashes. “Couldn’t resist. You’re carrying so much cake, after all.” He groaned at the pun but couldn’t keep from smiling.

- Clark, despite his extraordinary origins, was at his core a simple man. A man who loved sharing quiet evenings with you, cooking together, and pretending the world didn’t need him for a little while. He was also devastatingly kind, a trait that extended to how he loved you—with full-hearted sincerity and no room for doubt. So when he looked at you now, shaking his head with a chuckle, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

- “You’re unbelievable,” he said, placing the pastries safely on the counter. Then, faster than you could blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with that impossible strength. “But if you’re going to tease, you’d better be prepared to deal with the consequences.” His grin was all boyish mischief as he tickled your sides, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. You swore he let you win when you finally broke free. Clark Kent, the strongest man alive, completely at your mercy.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry didn’t even stop moving. You were sure he noticed, though, because as you walked past him in the hallway and your hand made contact with his backside, he nearly tripped over his own feet. For the Flash, that was saying something. “Did you just—” he started, spinning to face you. His words were drowned out by your laughter as he stood there, red-faced and wide-eyed, his usual chatter momentarily short-circuited.

- “What?” you asked innocently, though your grin betrayed you. Barry spluttered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I wasn’t expecting that!” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual. You loved how easy it was to fluster him, even though he was one of the smartest, fastest people in the world. “You’ve got to work on your reaction time, hero,” you teased, winking as you sauntered away.

- Barry’s mind was racing, as it always did, but now it wasn’t just thoughts of his latest case or some quantum theory experiment. No, now it was you—how you could so effortlessly knock him off balance with a single playful act. He adored you for it, for the way you brought lightness and humor into his often chaotic, exhausting life. You were his anchor, his calm in the storm of velocity and danger.

- Later, when he zipped into the living room with snacks for your movie night, he couldn’t resist a little payback. As he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Tag,” he whispered, and before you could respond, he darted away, leaving a gentle swat on your hip in his wake. Your laughter followed him, echoing in the space he’d just vacated. Barry might be the fastest man alive, but you were the one who always left him breathless.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- You didn’t think it was possible to catch Diana off guard. The Amazon princess was grace and power personified, her every movement deliberate, her every action precise. But when you passed her in the sunlit garden and gave her a cheeky smack, she stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, her azure eyes narrowing as her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Did you just strike a warrior?” she asked, her voice a blend of amusement and mock reprimand.

- “A warrior with impeccable form,” you shot back, bold as ever. Diana’s laughter rang out, melodic and warm, her posture relaxing as she faced you fully. “You’re fortunate I consider this an act of affection,” she teased, stepping closer. The sunlight caught her dark hair, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She was intimidating and beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet in this moment, she was utterly human—and yours.

- Diana loved how unafraid you were of her strength, her presence. So many treated her like a distant, untouchable figure, but you reminded her that she was more than her titles or her mission. You made her laugh, you challenged her, and you weren’t afraid to be playful with her—even when it came to something as bold as this. She admired your spirit, your fire, the way you met her gaze without hesitation.

- “You realize,” she said, her tone mock-serious as she closed the gap between you, “that this is an invitation for retaliation.” Before you could react, her arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Her laughter joined yours as she spun you once before setting you back down. “Careful, my love,” she warned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “A warrior never forgets.” But the smile on her lips promised she’d never stop loving your daring nature.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- You should have known better than to smack Arthur Curry as he walked past, the salty scent of the sea clinging to him like a second skin. The man was built like a fortress, with muscles that rippled beneath his tank top and a stride that exuded the confidence of a king. As your hand connected with his backside, the smack echoed through the cozy beach house you shared. Arthur stopped mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned his head, a grin spreading across his rugged, sun-kissed face. “You sure you want to start this game, love?”

- He set down the fishing net he’d been carrying, his piercing green eyes narrowing playfully as he took a deliberate step toward you. You couldn’t help but laugh, holding your ground even as he loomed closer, his smirk promising trouble. “I couldn’t resist,” you said, your voice light. “It’s not every day a queen gets to remind her king who’s really in charge.” Arthur barked out a laugh, the sound deep and rich like the ocean waves outside. “Oh, is that so?” he rumbled, his hands finding his hips.

- Arthur loved your boldness, the way you matched his fiery spirit without hesitation. You were one of the few people who could keep up with him—whether it was challenging his quick temper, teasing his authority, or standing beside him when the burdens of two worlds weighed heavily on his shoulders. You weren’t afraid of his strength, his power, or the scars that told the story of his battles. Instead, you met him head-on, reminding him of the joy and levity he often forgot.

- “Alright,” he said finally, leaning down until his face was inches from yours, his grin widening. “But just remember—you started it.” Before you could react, his large hand swatted your hip, the playful strike making you gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s for round one,” he teased, straightening as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if you’ve got the guts for round two.” You watched him go, shaking your head. King of the seas? More like king of cheeky comebacks.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- You didn’t even plan it. Hal Jordan had been walking past, cocky as ever in his flight jacket, tossing his keys onto the counter with that easy swagger that made your heart race and your patience thin in equal measure. Before you knew it, your hand moved of its own accord. Smack. The sound was sharp, and Hal froze, mid-step, his head snapping toward you. For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he broke into a grin. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

- Hal was never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew that all too well. “Careful,” he warned, his green eyes sparkling as he took a slow step toward you. “You’re playing with fire here, gorgeous.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, please. If you’re so tough, you should be able to handle a little pat on the back. Or… elsewhere.” His laughter was immediate, loud and free, filling the room like music. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

- That was what Hal adored about you. He’d spent so much of his life surrounded by danger and responsibility—whether it was saving the universe as Green Lantern or pulling insane aerial stunts as a test pilot. But you? You were his gravity, his reminder that life wasn’t all about proving himself. You made him laugh in a way no one else could, and even when you pushed his buttons, he couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you each time.

- “Alright,” he said, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.” Before you could react, Hal’s ring glowed, and a green construct of a feather appeared in his hand. “Let’s see how tough you are when the tables turn.” You squealed, darting behind the couch as he followed, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Hal Jordan might be fearless, but you knew his real weakness—your laugh, your smile, your ability to keep him on his toes.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen barely flinched when your hand smacked his backside as he walked past the kitchen counter, a bow slung over his shoulder. Instead, he stopped, cocking his head to the side with a slow smirk spreading across his handsome, scruffy face. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” he drawled, turning to face you. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could already tell he was plotting some form of retaliation. “Should I be worried, or was that just your way of saying ‘good shot’?”

- “You’ve been spending too much time in the field,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d remind you who really has the aim around here.” Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich as he set his bow down carefully. “Oh, really? You think you can out-shoot me and out-smart me in my own house?” His tone was playful, but you knew the archer in him couldn’t resist a challenge.

- Oliver loved that about you—your boldness, your fire, the way you never let him take himself too seriously. It was a rare gift to be able to break through the walls he built around himself, the layers of guilt and responsibility he carried as Star City’s protector. But you didn’t just break through; you tore those walls down with humor, love, and a fearlessness that matched his own. You reminded him of the man beneath the hood, the one who still knew how to laugh and love.

- “Alright,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place. “But just so we’re clear—if this is your idea of flirting, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, stealing your breath and your smugness all at once. When he pulled back, his grin was pure Oliver Queen. “Your move, pretty bird.”

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- When your hand smacked John Constantine’s backside, his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, throaty chuckle that promised trouble. He turned to face you, cigarette dangling from his lips, his trench coat swirling slightly with the motion. “Well, well, love,” he drawled, his voice tinged with that unmistakable cockney accent. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Careful now—you’re playing with fire.”

- “Oh, please,” you shot back, smirking. “You deal with demons, curses, and apocalyptic prophecies daily. You can handle a little slap.” His grin widened, and he took a step closer, the scent of tobacco and leather surrounding you. “You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ash into the tray. “But that’s why I keep you around. Keeps me on my toes.”

- John wasn’t used to this—lightness, laughter, love. His life was a whirlwind of darkness and chaos, and yet, somehow, you had wormed your way into his blackened heart. You brought him peace in a way no spell or sigil ever could. And while he’d never admit it outright, he adored the way you challenged him, kept him grounded, and gave him something to fight for beyond his own self-loathing.

- “But fair warning, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that sent shivers down your spine, “I don’t play fair.” Before you could react, he whispered a quick spell under his breath, and suddenly, your shoes were glued to the floor. “There,” he said with a wink, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Let’s see if you’re still so bold when you can’t run away.” Your laughter filled the room as he walked off, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Classic Constantine—always one step ahead, but always hopelessly smitten with you.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- You really couldn’t resist. Roy Harper had been strutting around the apartment like he owned the place, shirtless, a bow slung across his back, humming some old rock tune under his breath. His cocky energy was palpable, and when he passed by you in the living room, it was instinctive. Smack. Your hand connected with his jean-clad backside, and the sound was sharp enough to cut through his off-key singing. Roy froze, turning slowly with a look of mock betrayal. “Did you just…? Oh, you’re really asking for it now, gorgeous.”

- You leaned back against the couch, smirking. “What? Just checking if Arsenal’s reflexes are still sharp.” Roy placed a hand on his hip, pointing at you with the other. “You’re lucky I didn’t just shoot an arrow in surprise,” he teased, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he was anything but annoyed. “But fine. If we’re doing this, let me warn you—I don’t fight fair.”

- Roy loved that you didn’t take him too seriously. In a life full of chaos, mistakes, and battles, you were his sanctuary, the one person who could knock him off his pedestal in the best way. Your playful antics reminded him that not everything had to be about proving himself or fighting the next big battle. You were his partner in every sense of the word—his laughter, his balance, his home.

- “Alright, beautiful,” he said, dropping the bow and cracking his knuckles. “You know what happens when you mess with me, right?” Before you could react, he pounced, pinning you to the couch in an exaggerated wrestling move that had both of you laughing uncontrollably. “This is justice!” he declared dramatically, tickling your sides until you were begging for mercy. Roy Harper was impossible, but then again, so were you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- The reaction was immediate. As your hand connected with Koriand’r’s backside while she passed you in the hallway, she stopped mid-step, her fiery hair glowing faintly as it caught the light. Slowly, she turned to face you, her wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “Was that… an Earth custom of affection?” she asked, her tone curious but tinged with amusement. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, her innocent confusion melting any attempt at feigned innocence. “Sure, Kori. It’s totally a custom. Very common.”

- Kori tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her beautiful features. “How interesting,” she said, stepping closer to you. “On Tamaran, we express affection with embraces, kisses, and occasionally by flying into the air with loved ones. But this… this is new. I like it!” Her radiant smile made your heart flutter, and you could see the mischief spark in her gaze. “Does this mean I can do it back?”

- You adored how open and loving Kori was. She embraced life with the same passion she brought to battle, and her joy was contagious. Loving her meant constantly learning to see the world through her eyes, where every experience—big or small—was worth celebrating. You could never get enough of the way she made even the smallest moments feel like an adventure.

- “You may want to prepare yourself!” she declared suddenly, her arms wrapping around you in a warm, powerful embrace. Before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly off the ground, spinning you in circles as laughter bubbled out of both of you. When she finally set you down, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a playful tap on your backside. “This is a wonderful custom!” she declared with a bright giggle. You’d created a monster, and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn she was carrying when your hand smacked her backside. Nearly. Her Kryptonian reflexes kicked in, and she saved the snack, spinning around with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. “Did you just…?!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. You leaned casually against the counter, biting back a grin. “What? Just making sure Earth’s strongest woman doesn’t have any blind spots.”

- “Blind spots?!” Kara exclaimed, placing the bowl down with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I don’t fly you straight into the stratosphere for that.” But the way she crossed her arms and pouted made it clear she wasn’t actually upset. If anything, she was flustered—adorably so. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

- Kara loved how comfortable you were around her. So many people treated her like a symbol or a savior, but you just treated her like Kara. You teased her, laughed with her, and never let her powers overshadow the fact that she was just a girl trying to navigate life on a new planet. Being with you grounded her, reminded her that even superheroes deserved to let their guard down and have fun.

- “Fine,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “But don’t think I won’t get you back.” Before you could respond, she darted forward at super-speed, giving your side a playful nudge that sent you stumbling into the couch. She was back in her original spot before you could blink, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on her face. “Kryptonians don’t lose, you know,” she teased, her laughter filling the room.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to do it. Slade Wilson wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but as he passed you in the training room, his armor catching the dim light, the temptation was too strong. Your hand smacked his backside, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet space. He stopped immediately, his head turning just enough for his single visible eye to lock onto you. The sharp, dangerous glint in his gaze made your heart race. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

- “And you’re slower than I thought,” you shot back, unable to resist. His brow arched, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch—was that amusement? “Careful,” he warned, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You might find out just how fast I can be.” Despite his intimidating presence, you refused to back down, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

- Slade had always admired your boldness. In a world where most people either feared him or tried to use him, you were a refreshing change. You didn’t treat him like a weapon or a monster—you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who carried the weight of too many sins. Your audacity, your fire, reminded him of the parts of himself he thought he’d buried long ago.

- “Alright,” he said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “But don’t forget—every action has a consequence.” Before you could respond, his hand darted out, delivering a sharp but playful swat to your hip. You gasped, more in surprise than pain, and he straightened, his smirk now fully formed. “Your move,” he said, turning and walking away with the measured confidence of a man who always had the upper hand. And yet, you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For all his gruffness, Slade Wilson was undeniably charmed by you.

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second-best-if · 10 months ago

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Second Best IF

Demo to come soon

Sibling of the chosen one—the spare. That’s how the people of Aristea whispered your name. Celine, your twin, was blessed by the gods with radiant power and breathtaking beauty, while you, the second born, stood in the shadows. Since the fateful day of the Choosing, when the gods selected your twin and overlooked you, gifting you only the pitiful ability of conversation with beasts, your life has been confinement and disappointment. But now, fate has shifted. Celine has been taken, abducted by monsters during a purification journey. As the kingdom’s finest gather to embark on a discreet rescue mission, a new path unfurls before you: the chance to step into the role of your twin and reclaim your place in a world that has long deemed you unworthy. In Second Best you take control of the spare, controlling their destiny and their path. Will you fight for freedom or stay in your sibling’s shadow?

Second Best is a romance fantasty interactive fiction story with dark elements. This game is made for an 18+ audience and contains potentially triggering and sensitive topics such as swearing, violence, sexual content, injury & more - a full list of warnings will be updated once the demo is released and updated with each new chapter added

Play as the spare and customise them to your tastes

Name

Gender {with male, female and nonbinary options}

Pronouns {choose a preset or create your own}

Appearance {hair colour, eye colour, scars and more}

Personality {make choices that will develop your personality traits and that could change your fate}

Romance one of four potential love interests - with each choice creating a branching path and a new story for you to explore {you will be able to choose the genders of each love interest or randomise them}

Discover the truth behind your twins life and their kidnapping

“I would give my crown and kingdom to keep your heart” | The Royal | Prince/ Princess Wallace Aurelius

Age: 27

Height: 175cm/ 5'9

Build: Average

Eye color: Yellow

Hair color: Black

Character traits: Polite, Kindhearted, Calm, Distant, Lovely, Academic, Repressed

Bio: Heir to the throne of Aristea and Celine’s supposed finance although they never met. Given the moniker 'the kind' - however when you meet they seem polite but distant.

“I will protect you with every fibre of my being, and fight for you until my dying day” | The Knight | Farris Butcher

Age: 26

Height: 195cm/ 6'5

Build: Broad and extremely muscular

Eye color: Blue

Hair color: Ginger

Character traits: Sarcastic, Cold, Duty Bound, Emotional, Romantic

Bio: Childhood friend to the twins and now a head knight of the Royal Order. Farris is assigned to protect you while you pretend to be your twin.

“My soul is bound to yours and I would defy the gods just to keep you close” | The Magician | Leon ???

Age: 28

Height: 170cm/ 5'7

Build: Thin and lanky with long limbs

Eye color: Green

Hair color: Dark Brown

Character traits: Humorous, Witty, Smart, Resourceful, Pragmatic, Flirtatious

Bio: Magician and protector of your house, Leon is a close friend and trusted confidant of your twin, but was asked to stay back to maintain the ruse.

“You are the light in my veins and the shadow that haunts my darkest thoughts” | The Foreign Dignitary | Ludovica/ Ludovico Barboza

Age: 29

Height: 185cm/ 6'0

Build: Well muscled but lean

Eye color: Orange

Hair color: Light Brown

Character traits: Bold, Outgoing, Talented, Scheming, Flirtatious

Bio: A foreign dignitary from a Country neighbouring Aristea, they are here to sign a treaty of trade between the two nations, however they seem to be here with an ulterior motive and flirt with you every time you meet.

581 notes · View notes

chrrybbye · 29 days ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected! Meta! Reader

TITLE: one last lullaby

04 | 🌸 the music seems so loud.

A/N: this one's long. Longer than any of the other chapters, lolol. Buckle up, 'cause you’ll probably click off once or twice.

S.MASTERLIST + playlist

CW: GAY people. specifically HEAVILY implied future lesbanism. JUST IMPLIED btw. the main relationship is TBD :), feeling like an outcast, nightmares, unexplainable full-body pain, mention of country songs

Your father being Batman is, maybe, not so crazy after all.

Your mother did love her stories, whether it was in the middle of comforting you from a nightmare or reading you to sleep, and your father? Oh, how he was a favorite of hers. Sometimes he ranged, seeming like no man and a million men at once⸺ “a brilliantly heroic knight” “a stoic, dark man” “a flighty playboy” and so on. Maybe he really was all of these things, or maybe he wasn’t.

But one thing that stayed a consistent trait of your father was his determination to do good. She had never described him as anything less than a man of great honor. And if being Batman wasn’t a great honor, what was it?

And, somehow, you were both more and less angry at your father for it. For the idea of Batman being just a man⸺your father, at that⸺makes him seem far less all-knowing than you had initially deemed. Hundreds of people die everyday. It’s impossible for the great Batman⸺man, not men⸺to save all of them. It’s impossible for your father. Because Batman is just a man.

But if Batman can’t save you, then who can?

Your first day of school is approaching.

They’ve made quick work of it, as they seem to do everything, and you’re enrolled in Gotham Academy before you can blink. And like all things, this fact of information is delivered to you by Alfred. You may be young and he may think of you as unassuming, but you’re no fool. Everyone can tell⸺it seems Bruce can’t stand to talk to you. Besides your first meeting and when he’d given you your mother’s camera, you’ve had no other interactions. He seems to disappear at the most convenient of times.

(And neither can your so-called siblings, it seems.)

School, for most children⸺just the very word should bring dread. It should come with a sinking feeling, as if you just ate rocks, and a dry throat and an uneasy stomach. That’s how it used to be for you.

So why does it come with a flying feeling?

For other children, school is like a chain to the crushing reality of adulthood and responsibility, but for you⸺the idea of school ignites an expectation in your chest, a revelation of hope. School, this thing you’re supposed to hate, makes you feel hopeful…why?

Because existence in the manor is lonely.

You had people before, mostly younger children you would play with, and even your mother because when she wasn’t doing terrible things to you, she was kind and loving, but now?

Now, you fear you only have Alfred⸺and even he is slipping away.

Alfred has other duties. Other children, including Bruce. He has responsibilities as the Batman’s one and only butler. He isn’t entirely yours, and you understand it is selfish to wish he was⸺you got here last, you have the least claim.

But dammit, if you don’t feel your stomach turn green with envy whenever Alfred rushes off because Dick and Bruce had a squabble, or because Bruce crashed through a window, or because Dick was fooling around and got hurt trying to handstand on top of a chair,(isn’t he an acrobat? he’s almost a legal adult now, why does he still do such childish things?) or because Jason broke something.

Well, you’d be lying. But school? Now you can have a purpose again, besides trying to earn Mummy’s love or rotting away in the Wayne mansion. You have a reason to get up and out of bed.

(Maybe you can make friends.)

School can give you purpose.

You have a nightmare again.

When you wake to silence, a nothingness filled only with your sobs, you feel even emptier than before. You miss the songs your mother would sing to her plants in the morning. It felt like everything from your old life had been ripped from you, leaving you exposed and bare. There was no one who hit you or forced you to drink burning concoctions. But there was no one who held you when you cried or read you to sleep either.

You felt out of place, balling up on your fancy cold bed.

You had lost everything, except for maybe one thing⸺your only comfort.

You sing yourself a lullaby.

People at school are so kind. On your first day, the girl sitting at the desk next to you scoots closer and asks, “hey, want a piece of gum?”

One of the boys⸺a blonde boy with a nice smile⸺helps you on the math problems that you struggle with.

The teacher pretends to look the other way as you whisper to each other.

There’s a group of girls who are eager to pull you to the table at lunch. They ask you a bunch of questions, some you aren’t sure how to answer, but you enjoy the time you spend watching them and talking. Even when the girls bicker among themselves, you sit there just enjoying being part of a community.

People are so kind.

But there’s one girl who sticks out to you.

Juliette.

She fights to get a chair next to you during STEAM, she competes to sit next to you at lunch (even if all the girls were fighting for it at lunch), and during study period she runs up to you with a textbook in hand, exclaiming, “I’m one of the smartest in the grade. I can catch you up!”

She’s got blonde hair that shines golden brown in the sunlight, her teeth white like pearls, her soft lavender braces peeking out whenever she smiles. But your favorite thing about her might be how she looks at you when you talk, her green eyes wide and sparkling like she’s hanging on to your every word. It makes you feel heard.

You think you like Juliette a lot. You want to speak more. You want to speak more to her.

When you get home from school (you had called Alfred to beg him to let you take the bus with Juliette) he’s waiting for you with a plate of cookies and lemonade. You nearly smile at Alfred.

“How was school, Young Master [Name]?” He asked, a steady smile on his lips.

You take a seat on a stool at the kitchen island and sip your lemonade. “It was amazing, Alfred,” you say after a second, and then you’re unable to stop. You don’t even notice that you’ve called him Alfred. “I talked to a lot of people. They were loud. But they were interesting⸺and they have so many clubs, Alfred,” you sigh happily. “There…there was a gardening club. I think I’ll join it,” your tone slows, realizing you’ve been talking all this time. It must be difficult for Alfred to deal with your chatter, but you can’t stop. Why can’t you stop? “My⸺Mama…my mother liked to garden. We had plants all over our apartment.”

Because Alfred just nods. It must be difficult for him to suddenly see the nearly mute child suddenly turn into a chatterbox with seemingly no ‘off’ button, but he just nods. He nods, still smiling, and that’s why you can’t seem to stop talking.

Have you become addicted to attention? To the feeling, if only for a split second, of someone nodding along and listening to your words? Why?

It must’ve been because of Juliette.

You find your answer��no⸺at school, in the form of a boy who is too desperate for your attention. Attention is a kind of transaction. You give someone your attention in return for their own attention. In wanting someone else’s attention, you give them your own attention. But you didn’t want the attention. Not his.

He would drag his chair to your desk in the morning, insist on walking you to your next class, steal your textbooks and write on your math papers. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t⸺your throat would close up and your hands would get clammy.

You tried to ignore him, just offering nods to the absolutely inescapable questions he’d pepper you with, ignoring him until P.E⸺when a soccer ball flew at your head.

You had heard the whish of the ball before it had hit you, but you had been unprepared to move. You felt an intense throb as you lost your balance, knocking into the girl next to you, Theresa. She just barely caught you as you began to hold your temples.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” The boy cursed, running over to you with a cheesy smile, “Shit, that was my bad. You okay, [Name]?”

“Um…” you grunted as your temple throbbed. It was a constant thrum, rattling against your skull. You bit down on your lips. You felt as his hand neared you, reaching for your head, when someone smacked it away.

“Dude,” you recognized Daniel⸺the boy who helped with your math⸺speaking to the other boy. “I just watched you aim straight for her head. That wasn’t an accident.”

“I⸺no⸺that’s not true!” The boy squeaked. His heartbeat was irate, either stressed or…lying.

“Whatever. Quit skulking around her⸺she clearly doesn’t want to talk to you.”

You heard the boy grunt in response and mumble “me neither” under his breath before walking away.

You watched Daniel with a detached kind of intrigue. Why had he stood up for you? The boy was trying to apologize⸺the matter could have been resolved with a simple acceptance of his apology. Daniel and you were on good terms, but that didn’t equate to close ones. He didn’t have any reason to defend you. The whole situation seemed more trouble than it was worth, which was funny since Daniel had been the one to put himself in the position.

You watched him as he stretched his neck, turning to you with an awkward smile, “Hey, um. Sorry about that. If he keeps bothering you⸺or, if he’s bothering you⸺then you can come to me.”

“Okay. Thank you.” You had told him the necessary pleasantries, and therefore had no clue what to say beyond that. There wasn’t anything else you needed to say. Still, as you watched Daniel, there was this nagging sensation in the pit of your stomach. It made you hop from foot to foot, as if it was going to explode from your throat⸺which was exceedingly dry, you noticed. You couldn’t just let Daniel walk away.

“Um…um…”

Daniel turned to you, waiting⸺just waiting. He wasn’t staring at you like you were the nuisance of the earth, or as if you were a black hole sucking away at his precious time, or as if he was going to devour your soul the moment you started speaking.

“Why…” you had already begun speaking. There was no plausible way to back out now, not without losing some of your already meager dignity. You had to suck up your regret. “Why did you help?”

Daniel turned to you, his friendly smile already in place. “It was the right thing to do,” he said, voice full of certainty. It made you stumble, confused. How could helping you have been the right thing? Surely him and the boy, if they ever were, were no longer on friendly terms. You frowned at him. He had lost a friend for no reason.

“Okay,” you said, instead of the questions swirling in your mind. Not because you thought he would get angry, but because you had entered this entire conversation by mistake, and you were more than happy to cut it short. And then again, “Thank you.” because it felt right. You were thankful that he answered your question.

Daniel smiled and clapped you on your shoulder, which confused you further, because why would he do that? You watched as Daniel ran to play basketball with some of his friends.

Theresa watched you as you watched him.

“He’s like that,” she said, startling you. “Friendly. He’s friendly to everyone. He’s nice.”

You nodded in agreement. Then, as she was about to respond, you asked, “What does it mean?” making your thoughts audible.

“Huh?”

“What does it mean,” you asked, imitating Daniel’s gesture, shoving Theresa’s shoulder a bit, “this?”

“Oh.” Her eyes softened a bit. “It’s kind of like a high five. A less informal version of a handshake. Kind of like a hug? But It’s, like, a boyish thing. You do it to comfort people sometimes, or just, like, say bye. You don’t really do it to say hi.”

You nodded. “I understand.” So, he was…trying to comfort you? It had been a little comforting, but the comfort was majorly offset by your confusion. You berated yourself for not just enjoying the gesture, brief as it was. “Then, what does ‘it was the right thing to do’ mean?”

“I...I don’t know?” answered Theresa, her voice cracking a little. She sounded stressed, so you nodded and let the topic drop. You were good at that⸺you didn’t like to irritate people. But Alfred seldom seemed irritated⸺perhaps you should ask him?

“That’s quite the question, Young Master [Name],” chuckled Alfred, your sheets neatly folded into squares over his arms. Why? You weren’t sure. Maybe he could sense all the tears and snot absorbed by it and deemed it in need of a thorough wash. Or worse, replacing.

You couldn’t figure out why, but the idea irked you. You didn’t want new sheets or pillowcases or blankets. You wanted the things in your room that⸺despite your dislike⸺you had begrudgingly accepted as yours. Those were your belongings. You didn’t want them thrown away or scrapped or given to some other child. The fear, however irritational, made your stomach knot. You barely noticed when Alfred continued talking.

“Young Master, there are some fundamental truths that everyone must learn and accept. One of these is that not everyone is as good as they claim or try to be. For some, to be ‘good’ is more difficult than for others. Many of us humans have impure and filthy minds.” Alfred said, removing a sticker from the wall, “But that does not mean that all humans are strictly ‘bad’ or ‘evil’. It’s whether humans follow the code of what is ‘good’ that decides whether they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’.”

Alfred said it all as if it was simple.

“So to do what is right…it would simply mean doing the opposite of what you would perceive as ‘bad’.”

It was an answer, a clear-cut one, received without any fanfare. Yet, you had another question, “What would it mean to be evil? Or do something evil?”

“Something that you know will hurt or harm others, or may make them feel negatively,” answered Alfred.

“Then…” You felt a hot rush of shame as your throat began to close up. It was shameful that you did not know what it meant to be a good person⸺how could you be something that you had no clue about? But you wanted to be. You wanted others to think of you as good. It sounded more honorable than being seen as a bad person…You couldn’t back out now. You just had to say it. Curse your big mouth…It’s been giving you trouble all day.

“Then what would being a good person or doing good things mean?”

“Doing things that will make people happy or safe,” Alfred smiled. “Young Master, I believe you already are a good person. An evil person does not wonder if they are an evil person.”

The very idea sounded like horse crap. You? A good person? Preposterous, even. What had you done that was ‘good’? Who even was ‘good’?Juliette was good. Daniel was good. Theresa was good, all the girls who had talked to you, welcomed you on your first day, they were all good. They made you happy. Could you be like them?

Could you be good? Was that something you could live for?

To be something good?

(You watched with relief as Alfred placed your sheets in a laundry basket.)

Unfortunately, the night brings you no more peace than the day. Your mother flashes behind your eyelids, blood, a suspicious gas…your heart is stuttering against your chest, and by the time the sun rises, you realize you’ve spent the whole night sweating in your blankets.

(Jason sneaks you a cup of coffee. “Ya look like the living dead,” he says. “And yer eyes are red. Are ya good? Did ya sleep well?”

The small cup of brown liquid, thrumming in your hands, sends a zip of warmth down your spine to your toes. “Thank you, Jason,” and this time you really do smile. It reminds you of the tea⸺really more like hot water⸺that your mother made after long nights.

Maybe one of your siblings can stand to talk to you after all. You miss the red on Jason’s cheeks.)

Juliette sees right through you. Not the way Dick or Bruce do, as in literally through you as if you don’t exist⸺but when you sit down next to her at STEAM, she pulls a granola bar out of her uniform pocket and presses it into your hands.

“Girl, you look like you got attacked by a vampire!” Worried lines are etched into her face as she frowns at you. Still holding your hands. “I was gonna save that for Ms. Jefferson’s class, ‘cause you know how she is⸺have you had her class yet?⸺but you need to eat like, now. You’re gonna need it.”

“I’m okay,” you said. Which was true, you had eaten earlier, even if you had barely gotten through eight bites with your shaky hands.

“Please? I’m reallyyyy worried about you.” Juliette stared at you with such expectant eyes.

You sighed and pulled off the wrapping, taking a bite. “Okay. Sorry.”

“No! It’s fine. Don’t say sorry. Did you sleep well?” She felt up your forehead. Her hands were so gentle.

You were about to answer⸺a white lie on your tongue⸺when the clearing of a throat came from the front of the class. “Girls. Could we focus, please?” said the teacher, tapping the projector. “I’d hate for you to miss instructions.”

“Yes, miss,” you and Juliette said at the same time. Juliette smiled at you, and when your eyes flicked to her mouth, you noticed her braces were now a vibrant, colorful teal.

Iris blue, you think your mother had called it.

Juliette convinces you to join the choir.

It’s a heat of the moment thing⸺and you also admit you’re weak to anything Juliette asks. She had stared at you with her gleaming jade eyes and you’d given in after five minutes.

You pretend not to enjoy it as they make you sing a stupid country song.

You arrive home to the news that Dick has come back from his new place in Blüdhaven. It’s strange, how the house seems just a tad bit fuller whenever Dick is around⸺strange because you’re so used to the emptiness.

And seeing all three of them together for the first time makes you even emptier.

You’re there too of course, sat at the dinner table while Jason and Dick catch up and Bruce stares at them lovingly. But it should definitely be noted that you only considered coming because Alfred asked. Perhaps you also thought it might be less awkward, now that you thought one of your siblings might like you a little.

It’s not.

Jason does speak to you occasionally. Asks how you like the food and if you like the stuff in your room. You answer as best as you can, but Bruce and Dick’s weightful eyes make you feel like you’re being crushed. Dissected, like a frog. You answer with as little words as possible.

It’s not joyful in the slightest⸺but not at all comparable to when Dick or Bruce ask you something.

When Dick says something, he says it with a smile⸺the coldest smile you’ve ever seen. It’s strained, fraying. Nothing like his warm smiles for Jason, or the delicate but there ones for Bruce. It fills you with the discomfort of seeing someone tearing at the seams. It’s similar to your mother’s smile, but so different. It’s not the smile of someone struggling, their edges being chipped away. It’s the smile of someone who wants to throw a blanket over you and make you disappear.

It makes you feel like an alien wearing the skin of his sister.

When Bruce asks something, It’s straightforward, simple. There’s many answers⸺and only one of them is right. It’s a lot less simple than he tries to convey it as. It feels like a test, a bid on your worth. The idea of him finding your answer lackluster makes your palms sweat around your knife and fork as you swallow a mouthful of pasta that tastes like nothing.

The silence as you contemplate your answers is always deafeningly loud. You can’t stand it. You miss Juliette’s chatter in your ear, her warmth at your back. You miss Daniel’s hand on your shoulder, his gentle explanation of multiplying fractions.

Before long, most of the plates are clear (not yours. You just can’t.) and you’re standing, the tightness in your stomach easing, getting ready to leave when a familiarly calloused hand grabs your wrist.

“Hey,” says Jason. “Did ya know we had an art room?”

You didn’t. You feel bile rise up your throat. Is this supposed to be a fun fact? Is this something you were supposed to know? Should you say you knew, even though you didn’t?

The words “okay” are on the tip of your tongue, but Jason speaks faster. “I can show ya if ya want.”

You gulp down your “okay” at the light of speed. He wants to take you there? You’re stuck, the urge to smell the oil smudged onto floors, the acrylic peeling from the walls⸺and the urge to run away to your room. Where no one can ask you befuddling questions or look at you like you’re trash wearing human skin.

You don’t know why you say yes.

(You pretend to not see the hope flash in Jason’s eyes.)

Jason is a simple kind of company. He takes you straight there, but he doesn’t drown you in awkward silence. He offers up light chatter, chatter you don’t actually have to respond to. Chatter that sets you at ease. He tells you a story about the time Dick broke a chandelier⸺which leaves you slightly off kilter, trying to align the Dick from your memories to the one in Jason’s memory. It’s just too much of a difference, and it leaves you with a crushing realization. It has nothing to do with you⸺Dick just doesn’t like you.

He probably never will.

If Jason sees your change of expression, he doesn’t say anything, eagerly pulling you towards the art supplies. You try to pretend the relief you feel at seeing paintbrushes and chalk and oil pastels isn’t crushing. You thought the last time you would see anything of the sort was the brief glimpse before you had left for school the day that your apartment complex caught on fire.

You reach for the oil pastels before you can think. They had always been your favorite, despite your mother’s many complaints about them. You liked to think she only kept her collection of oil pastels for you⸺after all, you had seen her snap one of the sticks in anger more than once. Not that it mattered. They were probably burnt into wax by now.

There was a notepad nearby. Before you know it, you’re scribbling a doodle onto the lined page. Jason gets this childish, hopeful kind of look on his face. “Hey, ya think ya could draw me?”

You could lie. It’d be a white lie⸺a simple “I’m not good at drawing people” and that’d be the end of it. Yet you don’t.

You don’t know why you nod yes.

Jason beams at the finished product. He gives a too-brief-to-even-register hug and then he’s holding the notepad to his face and grinning, “Don’t we look just alike?”

You feel heat rush to your face. He’s trying to compliment you, you know, but It’s still embarrassing. Your mother never did say much when you showed her one of your drawings. Jason’s warmth is a different kind of warmth, you suppose. Not any less than Juliette’s, but different.

Still much better than the coldness of your sheets.

(Of those doctor’s gloves.)

You and Jason depart in your doorway, after he walks you to your bedroom. Why? You didn’t feel like asking.

You pretend you don’t get jumpscared by Alfred, dusting off your dresser. He sends a pleasant nod your way. “How was dinner, Young Master [Name]?”

So that’s where he went, you think to yourself. Cleaning rooms.

“Fine,” you answer, tone groggy.

“I see you’ve made a companion of Young Master Jason.” Alfred notes.

“Yeah,” you can’t quite keep the smile out of your voice. “He’s good.”

“And the others?” asked Alfred, his hope palpable.

“Fine,” you said, voice intentionally flat. It was harsh, but what were you meant to do? Tell Alfred that you felt like human scum next to them? Insignificant? Like muck, hopelessly and pitifully stuck to their shoes⸺even though you hadn’t asked to be attached to them, legally or biologically? If you could scrap yourself off their shoes like the dirt you were to them, you would with a quickness. Yet unfortunately, you were stuck as a fly on the back of their favorite flyswatter. You sigh.

(You know they don’t like you. It’s not your biggest heartbreak. You had already told yourself there would be no one to brush your hair and pick out your clothes⸺so what if there’s no one to call your family, either?

You’re not dead yet. You’ll be alright. You always are.)

“How was I to know dinner was such an exhausting endeavor?” You mumble, rubbing your eyes. “I’ll head to bed, Alfred. Goodnight.”

“Do try,” murmured Alfred, looking a little spaced out. “You’ve been looking a little quaint lately. I shall see you before school tomorrow. Goodnight, Young Master [Name].”

You feel like you’re on fire. Not your blood or your bones⸺you. Your very essence, from where you’re arching, gasping into the sheets, practically eating them as you cry into them. From where your scratchy nightdress is rubbing against you and sparking miniature fires.

Your throat is dry, closed, so much worse than all the times it closed while you were talking and felt as if you were going to die. Well, you still feel as if you’re going to die, but ten times worse now. Your stomach is twisted and your limbs are pulsating and tightening like a cramp, feeling like someone is stabbing you all over. You sob as your stomach cramps, practically screaming, your chest throbbing⸺you might throw up.

No, you are throwing up⸺or maybe that’s just your spit? You are drooling everywhere. It’s hard to tell, not that you care, it feels like all your bones are snapping.

You muffle your cries into that stupid, ugly rabbit. By biting its face, of course. That ugly, worthless plush.

You hate it.

When you wake the next morning⸺sweaty, sore, and a nasty taste in your mouth⸺you’re just grateful to be alive. The rabbit is still intact, too, which feels like a little more than you asked for⸺which was “please don’t let me die.”

(You didn’t know why you would keep living, just that you didn’t want to die right then⸺alone, small, insignificant.)

But you’ll take it, nonetheless. Like you always do.

(You lied to Alfred. You didn’t get any sleep⸺though you definitely got in your fucking bed.)

Juliette tutts at you when she sees you again, holding your face in your hands. “You look even worse than yesterday,” she murmured. “You need to take a cat-nap!”

“A cat-nap?” You question, watching Juliette as she watches you.

“Yeah! Like the nap a cat takes,” she explains, “where they curl up in a ball and stuff⸺”

A pair of high-heels click against the tile floors and there’s a jingling of keys…that stop right outside the restroom. “Girls? I know you’re in there!”

Juliette ‘eeyp’s and falls a little closer to you, and you’re practically swimming in her blouser where her chest is pressed against your face. You try not to make a choking noise as you rest your hands on her hips, holding her bodyweight up and keeping her from teetering on to the ground. You close your eyes and hope your skirt isn’t taking a dip in the toilet water right now.

The high-heels click away.

Juliette’s hands, tight on your shoulders, loosen a little. She’s beaming. “I told you we would get away,” she whispers, smug.

You nod, letting Juliette go as she crawls from between your legs.

Your first taste of rebellion. You don’t think it’s that bad. It makes Juliette happy.

prev. {☆||☆} next.

taglist: @bunbunboysworld @inayouboo @thatoneraeder

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k-chips · 3 months ago

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Here I am rambling about the cookie game now yeyyy

My Roman Empire in Cookie Run Kingdom is the fact that the Ancients are exactly who the Beasts needed in the past to stop their corruption and I kinda hope they'll go for something like that in the story... (This isn't just from a "ship point of view", the ships are just a plus you can like or dislike, i don't mind and I don't force anyone to see them that way, It's not important for the analysis)

Eternal Sugar couldn't accept to see the cookies she helped getting hurt over and over again, so she made her infinite paradise and made sure cookies' only refuge to pain and suffering was her home. WELL. Hollyberry literally travels all over Crispia with her SHIELD, protecting people while being FREE. She could have helped protecting these cookies, she could have shown Eternal Sugar "freedom" doesn't mean "suffering".

Burning Spice got bored of his eternal life. He got bored of every beings around him inevitably dying, walking the same exact path every times but Golden Cheese was the only one who could entertain him in the present. Not only because of the fighting but because Golden Cheese learns in her own chapter to accept the change, she learned to let go of the past and move on, to make something NEW. Exactly what Burning Spice needed. He needed someone to show him there is more than that infinite cycle.

Pure Vanilla made it very clear Shadow Milk's problem was loneliness. A lonely knowledgeable soul, always looking for the truth, in the middle of weak minds always accepting the easiest answers. Pure Vanilla could have been there with him, searching for the truth with him and would have helped Shadow Milk bear the weight of all that knowladge.

And then the most simple one but also my personal favorite:

Dark Cacao is a warrior, a knight, he watches over a wall that protects his people and kingdom. He could have been there for Mystic Flour, he could have protected her with his blade. He could have prevented these greedy and selfish cookies to attack her cocoon. She would not have come to the conclusion that no matter how hard she tries, how many times she tries, there is no solution to these problems that made these cookies attack her.

We still don't know anything about Silent Salt and White Lily is already dealing with her own problems but if Silent Salt was the virtue of Solidarity we can kinda see that trait in Dark Enchantress Cookie, who's literally trying to stop the Witches, to save the cookies. It can be seen as an act of solidarity, even if the way she's doing that it's terrible and maybe that's what happened to Silent Salt. He wanted to help but found the worst way possible to achieve that.

Anyway, I'm writing this while my head hurts and I'm sleepy so maybe it doesn't make sense, but still. I've been thinking about this for DAYS and now that I finally finished every Beast Yeast chapters I can finally try to put my thoughts in a semi coherent essay lol

I just love how literal SOULMATES (Because of the soul jams, yk) these cookies are.

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digi-lov · 1 year ago

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ChaosGallantmon EX4-011 Alternative Art by toriyufu from EX-04 Theme Booster Alternative Being

#digimon #digimon tcg #digimon card game #digisafe #digica #デジカ #ChaosGallantmon #ChaosDukemon #EX4 #AA #toriyufu #digimon card #color: red #color: purple #Lv6 #type: virus #trait: dark knight #num: 02

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bokettochild · 1 month ago

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Do you have some hcs for Legend? I'd love to hear your thoughts on him :)

So, so many of them!

he's far-sighted! Due to a lot of adventuring and focusing on the far away stuff, he's actually trained his eyes to always be focused on far away things, and so now he struggles to see things clearly close up. he has specticals for it (Impa took him to get some when they were in Labrynna together) but he rarely remembers to wear them, and doesn't like to out on the road to begin with, as he's worried they'll break. he tends to forget he's wearing them when at his house though, so Ravio's really the only one who sees him wear them more than he sees him without them.

he's totally a bit of a history nerd, because I said so. It was more just stories when he was little, but between frequently interacting with ancient artifacts and architecture, as well as time traveling himself, Legend's become somewhat fascinated with history. he likes having all the answers (as most Links do) but for him, that includes knowing where things came from, why they were made, and so on

he's also a horse girl, much like Twilight and Warriors, but doesn't travel with a mount because it's less convenient. While having a mount in a Zelda game DOES make avoiding foes much easier, it also gets frustrating when you have to go find them again after doing however many things (point in case, my BotW horses are scattered to the four winds All The Time). Legend, who frequently is getting up and dropped in random places, doesn't like that this would leave any of his mounts alone in the middle of nowhere and thus doesn't take his own horse many places as a result. Said horse is Puini (OoA manga) and is currently housed either at the castle or with his grandparents (OoS manga). He dotes on her exceedingly, and being around Epona now reminds him of her a lot. Being as she's a literal war horse though (trained for battle with a knight) he has an inkling she would't quite like the mares of the rest of his brothers and leaves her out of the conversation when they bring up mounts

he's the OPPOSITE of someone with claustephobia! I have this fic I'm writing in my head right now where the boys finish their adventure just to get collectively dropped at Lon Lon with no way home, and have to adapt to "normal" life. A chapter of said fic (if I write it) would likely focus on the fact that Legend literally grew up in dungeons, like, his games have the most dungeons of all the Zelda games, as well as some of the biggest focus on dungeons, and as a result, they likely feel more familiar to him than the open world (and oddly safer, since they're predictable and follow Rules that the outside world doesn't have). I like to think that small, narrow, dark places would actually be soothing for him, to the point that, in the theoretical fic, it freaks the rest out when they find out he keeps purposefully climbing into dried up wells for some space when he's homesick. Maybe it's the inner bunny instincts, maybe it's a pre-existing trait that influenced the magic that made him a bunny to begin with, but Legend tends to burrow, and feels safest when he's in smaller, darker places.

He loves puzzles. I think it was Squido who said that we should let the boys enjoy their adventures, no? Let them look back fondly and smile at some things? For Legend, I think the thing he loved most about adventures with the problem solving, and puzzles are the best sorts of problems because you're guaranteed that there IS an answer. So, for someone who grew up doing puzzles most of his life (dungeons), they're a familiar thing for him and a challenge for him to face without actually endangering himself. he likes mind puzzles and logic puzzles mainly, but picture puzzles are fun too for him

Apple snob. He knows all the apple types, probably bred two of his own apple breeds somewhere in his life, and he has opinions on all of them

Nature boy. Not like Wild and Hyrule who like to get lost in it, no, Legend just likes existing in nature. He grew up on Orchard Hill, so gardening and husbandry are something he was raised to before the hero shtick, and he finds a certain sort of peace in gardening/plants. Also, he travels a lot, so he spends a lot of time by himself out of doors. Granted, that's also where a lot of the bad stuff happens to him, but the good outweighs the bad and I think he genuinely would love to go hiking or do nature walk sorts of things if adventure didn't scoop him up every time he left the house

Really big dancer. Mostly because of Din, partially because of Marin, and Cadence definitely had an influence too. Unfortunately, his mental metronome is set to the music pulse of Octavio's magic so he sort of just...can't keep a beat well without a lot of time to adjust. Once he's got it though he's killer

He can play a lot of instruments, but I really like the idea that the violin is his favorite. yes, he's got that precious ocarina from the dream world, and he learned to play one of those first, but like the idea that Uncle Aflon or maybe one of his friends was a violinist, and Legend just got dead set as a kid on that particular instrument. It's also a very diverse and emotional instrument, which grants him a lot of freedom of expression he'd usually not allow himself

He didn't speak his first word until he was four. Uncle Aflon kind of accepted early on that he might be mute, but as it happened, he just didn't feel the need to use words to communicate, since what he wanted was either always evident or could be figured out without him having to speak much. I think he was likely either mostly silent as a child, using mainly sign or other nonverbal communications, but if you want to make it angsty, I also like to say that it could be because his throat got messed up by an illness he had when he was very small so talking was painful for him. I HC that that changed after he traveled to Labrynna, because the memaid's curse didn't just give him a tail, but also effected/altered his voice, making speech easier for him but also making it to where he can actually cham people with his voice if he's not careful (which perhaps contributed to him becoming a harsher spoken person because then the charm is less likely to slip through on accident if he's being a jerk)

Continuing the speech HCs, I think Legend's tendency towards speech is impacted heavily by wo he's around. if it's anyone he met prior to Labrynna, or in Labrynna, he defaults to mostly sign, whereas if he met them after, he tends to usually use spoken words

Legend' far more expressive and open with sign language, as tone is very important and easier to navigate for him. In essence, it is his first language and the one he's most comfortable with

That said, with people he's truly comfortable with, legend's just straight up non-verbal. he doesn't feel the need to speak and usually just uses facial expressions and exaggerated motions to express himself. Being able to shut down the speech center of his brain for a bit is a huge relief and since those he knows well know how to read him just fine like that, it doesn't make much of a difference either way

As y'all know, I champion the Fable and Legend are siblings HC, though I know it's neither cannon, nor likely to be cannon in LU (pretty sure JoJo confirmed it's not true). Still, I really really like the twins thing!

On the note of being twins! You know how sometimes, with twins, one comes out stronger than the other? Yeah, that was Fable. Legend's actually the smaller/weaker twin, though not by much. he was a very sickly baby though. Oddly enough though, despite being physically weaker than his sister, he actually got the stronger of the magic between the two of them! It might even be possible that the strength of his magic might have been the reason his body is weaker; because housing that much power can put a significant strain on a body. Either way, Fable and he joke about it frequently, saying that as he's got stronger Holy magic, he should have been the princess, and since she's physically stronger, she should be the one with the sword. He doesn't mean it though, and is only playing along. Fable kinda sorta really does mean it though)

It's less focused on by the fandom as a whole, but in case you didn't know: Legend is more than just a polyglot! In his games alone, we see that he can hear and understand not only most trees (not just guardian trees like the Deku and Maku trees, but the normal ones around Kakariko too), but also animals, spirits, and literally forces of nature! Heck, the literal SEASONS coo about how adorable he is when you meet them in OoS! That said, I think he learned pretty early on that this isn't normal. Uncle started getting really worried when he saw and heard Legend speaking to what seemed to be thin air on multiple occasions, so he learned to just not answer unless there aren't other humans/hylians around

Continuing the previous one, this does mean that Legend has to frequently resist asking for directions from various passing by birds and animals, and instead just bites his tongue and lets Twilight go off scouting because explaining that he can hear voices no one else can hear is just....ot the best of ideas

Despite the rest of the heroes' being under the impression that Legend was an only child, he actually has Middle Child energy. this is because he grew up with Fable, Ralph, the Oracles, and Ghanti bossing him around/messing with him, but he also helps look after his neighbor Gully, who I fully believe he loves the same way that Wind loves Aryll.

While I have Gully on the mind, I think Smith and his wife have mentally adopted Legend and all but see him as their eldest, since Bertha (Smith's wife), also had a hand in helping Aflon, newly appointed caretaker to an infant he knows nothing about minding, with learning about babies. Legend however, dense as he is, still fully believes they just put up with him for their actual son's sake, since Gully clearly adores him so much

This shows up a lot in my fics, but I like the idea that Legend loves the stars. Like, tehy're the same, always there, no matter where you go. he's traveled a lot and been tossed into random locations where everything is different, yet whenever he looks up, there the stars are, the same as always, just from a different angle. I think Uncle Aflon taught him the various constellations when he was small, and maybe when Legend was lonely in his adventures he started talking to them like they could hear them (and heck, if the seasons can hold a conversation, then why couldn't the stars?). Also, you know the thing about how if you're deep enough underground and you look up through a hole you can see the sky? Yeah, he's more used to night skies and stars than sunlight

Despite being a traveler, he's actually got a palish complexion for his skin tone, since he spends most of his time underground. He's also a bit sensitive to sunlight all around and gets a headache fairly quickly when he's out in it. He hates noon time and would rather be sleeping than awake when the suns at its zenith

I've seen this one around a bit, but I really love the idea that legend enjoys wearing his uncle's old clothes around the house when he's between adventures. he probably keeps Uncle's pipe tobacco and other things stored with the clothes so they still smell like him even after all these years

He's entirely unaware of the fact that being on regular speaking terms with the Golden Goddesses, the Fates, the Seasons, the freaking Triforce, and most royalty is uncommon for a hero. He's aware most people don't do it, but it's sort of jarring for him when he realizes that the other heroes' dealings are limited to mostly mortals, and lowly ones at that, and that when they do speak of the goddesses, it's usually with some sort of reverence. Meanwhile Legend will and has insulted Din to her face for picking on him about his height, gossips with Farore whenever they run into each other, and the only one he kinda treats with reservation/respect is Nayru because they sort of faught each other that one time and while it wasn't her faught, it still makes things a bit awkward at times

He tends to chew on things when he's restless/agitated. He's not even aware he's doing it half the time, and has chewed his sleeves, hair, and various tools at different times. The Chain have designated bowls (Sky got bored) and his has very clear signs of gnawing around the edges. Same with any wooden spoons he's given (although, being as Uncle raised him with manners, Legend does carry his own silverware at all times, and thus rarely needs to borrow from others (it's a medieval manners thing))

Unlike the stereotype of men when they're sick, Legend actually gets really quiet when he's sick. Hyrule's the same way and it's mostly to draw the least attention to themselves when they're not in fighting condition. Usually though, he tends to take the 'sleep through it' approach, which is really a very poor choice, but as far as he's concerned, it's worked until now so he's not changing it

I think Legend's a very physical person, someone who likes to be able to touch and feel various things, and generally enjoys the idea of physical affection, but in reality balks at it because it usually catches him off guard. That said, he do be touching all the stuff and animals.

Gets weird about dodongos. he knows that the majority of them are threats, but there's always a part of him that wonders if some of them are like Dimitri, and it can be tricky for him to fight them at times

The early Zelda games are sort of wack honestly, but the fact that he's technically a telepath gets brushed aside way too much, y'know? Like, Legend regularly has conversations with Zelda and Sahasralah from miles away, IN HIS HEAD, and only uses certain stones to strengthen that connection, not forge it to begin with! Now, he might just be receptive to telepathy, maybe it's a twin thing (I have a WIP about that) but I think it'd be really funny if he's just sitting on that little skill and never brings it up because linking up (lol) thoughts with someone can be very overwhelming when your brain is already moving a thousand miles a minute, and trying to process thoughts and feelings that aren't his own gives him a migraine. So he just.... doesn't. Unless Zelda reaches out first or he needs to tell her something important.

He's terrible about self care and remembering his own needs, but will, can, and does scold others for doing the same. He doesn't even care that he's a huge hypocrite, not much anyway

Magpie. Boy loves his shiny things. Like, he doesn't technically need everything he has, and he knows most of it will never be used, but if it's pretty he keeps it anyway

I feel like Legend'a also got a bit of food insecurity. When he was a kid, freshly thrust into his first adventure and with the kingdom turned against him, he didn't actually know how to find his own food and ended up going hungry a LOT during that first adventure (which might have stunted his growth a bit). Since then, he's made a point to not only educate himself on what's safe to eat and what's not, but he also taught himself how to preserve and prepare long lasting foods, which he keeps a huge stockpile of. He also doesn't trust any food he hasn't watched be prepared unless it's made by someone he trusts, and even then sometimes his anxiety/paranoia gets the better of him. There were a few neighbors who tried slipping something in the meals they gave him under the pretense of taking pity, when in reality they planned to turn him over to the knights, so he's always cautious now

He's actually less wary and guarded outside of Hyrule than he is inside of it. Lorule is an exception because it's a version of Hyrule, but any other country is used to a very different version of him because Legend isn't always suspecting foul play in other kingdoms who have nothing to gain from his death.

He cannot handle blood well. Yeah, he's a hero, yeah, he fights a lot, and yes, he's frequently injured in battle or dungeons, but watching his Uncle bleed to death left him with a kind of hemophobia and he tends to have mini panic attacks/breakdowns when exposed to large amounts of blood. He hates it, but can't control it, and hasn't found a way to overcome it at all

After spending a long time at sea after Koholint, trying to find his way home, Legend actually really dislikes the taste of fish. He had to rely on his mer form a lot getting home, and fish has been ruined forever because it was his only choice for food, and eating it raw (mer) did make him sick a few times (he's still hylian at his core) so now he tends to get queasy when eating fish, just on reflex

He's a dead ringer for his late mother, to the point where people who knew her sometimes double take

I know Warriors is supposed to be the pretty one, but considering Legend's canonically had forces of nature comment on how pretty he is (I think it was Summer specifically, but it could have been one of the other Seasons), I think he's got a type of beauty that, at the least, appeals to the supernatural/magical beings. He's unaware of this though, although he'll always say Fable is one of the most beautiful people in the world, all while unawares of the fact that they're nearly identical looks-ways

He likes to doodle. Drawing more so, but e enjoys both depending on what mood he's in

Logically and artistically minded. Numbers bother him though (something Ravio, who is the reverse, definitely abuses)

He's one of those people who genuinely will be happy if you get him a candle. He's got everything anyone could need, but something that smells nice, offers minimal light, and he;s always running out of? Oh he loves them. He's very picky about what scents he'll accent though because his nose is very sensitive

He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders a lot when he's bored/tense/stressed- basically all the time LOL

he uses sewing/stitchwork as a way to try and relax himself after a long day. it works half the time. the other half his thread gets tangled and he gets very worked up LOL

Secretly admired Sky's skills in embroidery, but doesn't have the patience to practice anything complicated

he loves to teach people things, but constantly assumes people won't listen, so he tends to break things down to bare basics rather than going into the nitty gritty like he enjoys.

Such a big sweet tooth

Genuinely hates the feeling of fur. Twilight's pelt bothers him, not just because the guy who turns into a wolf is literally wearing a wolf's skin, but also because the feeling of fur, treated or no, displeases him most of the time. He only likes fur when it's on something alive and moving, and even then, he's picky about it

Has a extreme fear of dogs. It's both from being chased by the soldiers' dogs, but also various dog-like things in the Dark World. Wolfie used to make him very uncomfortable before he realized it was Twilight

Fall boy. The other seasons would be offended if they knew he had a favorite, but I think his little apple farming, leaf crunching, bright color enjoying self would just adore the fall.

he LOVES the rain. His arthritis acts up something awful when it rains, but when it's not too bad he enjoys being out in the rain. That said, he HATES thunderstorms, less because of being struck by lightning (LA) and more because of the storm the night that his Uncle died

He's actually not fond of heights. He doesn't panic, but he's used to being very low, or even below the ground, so being very high above it unsettles him.

He tends to sleep curled up, he's not sure why, he just does

He's got VERY sensitive ears, both to touch and sound

Buck teeth <3

Also, freckles. He doesn't spend much time in the sun, but he does tend to freckle when he has. It also brings out some natural highlights in his hair, but he's not aware of that because it's not happened since he was small

Tends to sound like he's talking down to everyone, but in reality he's just never sure what all most people know about any given subject

Has such a soft spot for kids

He's a god-father to Bippin and Blossom's kid, and he adores that little munchkin, bordering on spoiling them.

Imma end it there because it's late and I need to be up early, but I hope this satisfied your curiosity a bit!

Thanks for the ask! I appreciate the chance to talk about all these ideas!

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #ketto's brainfarts

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umbrellajam · 1 year ago

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Saw a post where someone wasn't sure if Tim being good at computers was a fanon thing or not and friend I am happy to inform you that he's been a computer/tech guy from some of his earliest appearances in the comics.

Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #620 (Rite of Passage part 4) - immersed in the ~web~

Robin II: The Joker's Wild #3 - tabletop roleplaying games and spending hours in the basement on the computer - not beating the geek allegations on these fronts, Timmy

Detective Comics (Vol. 1) #676 - Dick was more into traditional detective work and tended to outsource the computer stuff in these days

Batman (Vol. 1) #514 (Prodigal part 10) - hackin' through all the garbage and garble

Robin (1993) #33 - Robin sneaking in and connecting Oracle with the baddies' mainframe so she can do her thing and steal all their data >:)

Nightwing (1996) #6 - "no you're really talented and well suited to be Robin." "no, you." "no, YOU!"

Tim is definitely not as good as Babs/Oracle, but he's certainly her back-up for computer work in the 90's batfam. They're tech buddies and Robin!Tim is her little assistant sometimes, it's super cute:

Birds of Prey (1999) #19 - happy to play with big sister's fancy high-powered toys

Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #125 - real cute kid

And Dick will hand off computer jobs to his little brother when he doesn't want to bother Babs 😂 (that outsourcing I mentioned):

Nightwing (1996) #68 - examine them pixel by pixel, eh? welp, sounds like a job only you can do, Timbo, you got this buddy, byyyyeeeee

And then when he'd grown up and been doing this for years, he leveled up accordingly, and did stuff like use his access to the League of Assassins computers to overload the generators in every base he could find, etc. etc.

Red Robin (2009) #8 - yeah that was pretty dumb of you Ra's :)

So yeah, it was a bit of a specialty of Tim's, in large part because he was introduced just at the turn into the 90's, when personal computers were really starting to take off and become widespread. (Robins gotta be cutting edge and all)

Of course, by no means does it follow that the other Bats suck at computers (there is no 'smart one' they are all incredibly smart and capable). This is especially true as reboots and the sliding timescale of comics have moved the DC characters into modern times, where computers run the world and everyone grows up with one in their pocket. The baseline familiarity and expertise that everyone can be expected to have is just much, much higher these days.

It gets exaggerated in fanon as all character traits do, but computer guy Tim is definitely not something just made up out of whole cloth :)b

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ghostlyferrettarot · 1 year ago

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♥︎Pick a picture: 🧜🏻‍♀️What's your most attractive trait?🧝🏼‍♀️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) (Open).

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🪩Masterlist🪩

👑Pile 1: The high Priestess, Queen of Pentacles, Seven of Wands.

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🪩Song:

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🪩Song:

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Hi pile 3! You are the creatives, the artists, i see that in whatever endevor you work, you excel and also the way you express your creative ideas, wow pile 3 and this is something that other's find so attractive about you.

Many people look up to you even if you don't notice, they see the passion that you put in whatever you create. I see something so unique about you, maybe you have an unique fashion style and hairstyle, other's really love this about you, it suits you so well.

Other's see how unique you are, i heard "one in a lifetime"; people feel that you are the kind of person that they can only meet once in their life, they find you fascinating and enchanting. Others also wonder about you, how is like to be your friend, to be in your close circle or even be your partner; there's a misterious vibe to you that also attracts a lot people. You are like a Siren pile 3!

🪩Song:

💐Thanks for reading and please tell me if it resonated. Have a great day! 💐

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literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago

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Writing Notes: Villain Monologue

Villain Monologue - a long speech by an antagonist, antihero, or “bad guy”.

Villain monologues may reveal the speaker’s inner humanity or be an opportunity to showcase the bad guy’s wickedness.

Strong performers can bring these characters to life, but movie monologues start with a great screenwriter.

How to Write a Villain Monologue

Define the purpose of the monologue. Monologues can progress the plot, delve into character backstories, and much more. Understand how your monologue operates and how its placement fits into the architecture of your script. Ensure you are intentional with each word.

Hear your monologue read aloud. When you have a draft of your monologue, read it aloud and then hear an actor or peer read it. Assess how natural the speech sounds and ask yourself if your specific villain would speak this monologue.

Instill truth in your villain. Though your character is fictional, their wickedness may be more symbolic than realistic. Ground the villain in reality. Villains should have goals, reasons for their actions, band a three-dimensional personality beyond their malice.

Play with different forms. Villain monologues come in many different styles. There are origin stories (in which a character explains why they behave the way they do), torture descriptions (in which the villain tells what violence they will enact), and calls for sympathy (in which a character expresses remorse for their wrongdoing).

Revise your monologue. After drafting and hearing your monologue, edit as you see fit. Some parts may be unclear or overwritten—edit your writing until it comes across as you intend.

Tips for Writing Villain Monologues

Counter your protagonist’s traits or speech patterns. If your protagonist speaks cheerfully and quickly, give your villain a dark, measured cadence. Villains can be foil characters to your main characters, and monologues can show off this contrast.

Position your villain monologue toward the end of the narrative. In some stories, but not all, the villain is the supporting character, not the protagonist. For this reason, you must give the audience or readers time to get to know the character. Only after that point, and often during a final confrontation, should your villain finally get their shining moment to change the audience’s mind or confirm their notions of this character.

Try giving your villain a catchphrase. Sometimes writers utilize the power of threes: Repetition is a helpful tool, and repeating a phrase thrice in a story can help audiences track a beginning, middle, and end. If your villain has a catchphrase, let them speak it toward the start, the rising action, and the climax.

Examples of Great Villain Monologues

Apocalypse Now (1979): Colonel Kurtz details the horrors of war in his monologue, sharing that he poisoned children with polio. Kurtz deduces that the best soldier is the one who cannot feel and instead transforms into a killing machine devoid of empathy.

The Matrix (1999): In the cyberpunk movie The Matrix, Agent Smith interrogates a captured Morpheus and tells him of his plan: to destroy Zion, the underground city where those who have escaped the Matrix go to be free. The monologue underlines how Smith is Morpheus’s antithesis: The former has chosen to live within a planned system, and the latter wants to break free from it.

The Incredibles (2004): Even an animated movie can feature a fantastic villain monologue. In The Incredibles, the character Syndrome shares his origin story: He was a fan of Mr. Incredible and wanted to be his sidekick, but Mr. Incredible rejected him. This embittered Syndrome, who then manifested artificial superpowers to wreak havoc on the Incredibles.

The Dark Knight (2008): The Joker gets a few famous supervillain monologues in this Christopher Nolan film, which sits between Batman Begins (2005) and The Dark Knight Rises (2012). First, the Joker tells Bruce Wayne’s love interest Rachel how he got his scars, and later, he tells Batman just how similar the two are.

Inglourious Basterds (2009): Anti-Semetic SS officer Hans Landa delivers a monologue disparaging Jewish people and the police to hawks who have to search for rodents to keep the circle of life going. Set in World War II, this movie, and Landa’s monologue, showcase the ideologies that led to the persecution of countless lives.

Game of Thrones (2011–2019): Cersei Lannister is a power-hungry character who gets many monologues across this hit HBO drama’s eight seasons. Toward the end of the series, she torments Ellaria Sand, who poisoned Cersei’s daughter. Cersei explains the equal vengeance she will seek on Ellaria’s imprisoned daughter.

The word “monologue” derives from the Greek roots for “alone” and “speak,” and it is the counterpart of the word “dialogue,” which comes from the Greek word for “conversation.”

Monologues can address other characters in the scene or be one character talking to themselves or the audience.

Monologues serve a specific purpose in storytelling—to give the audience more details about a character or the plot.

Used carefully, they are a great way to share a character's internal thoughts or backstory or to give more specific details about the story.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

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firecrackerloonasays · 29 days ago

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BEAST-YEAST EPISODE 11 AND 12 PREDICTIONS

What a way to end off episodes 9 and 10, honestly! Passion wins again! Now all that's left are THESE gangly clowns.

And I know what we're all wondering: how's THIS gonna pan out? White Lily Cookie's left in the Faerie Kingdom doing her little book stuff, and Silent Salt... is very likely going to be a silent villain. An interesting concept, and I really hope that is MAJORITY the case, considering there's word of him actually having a VA thus meaning he has voice lines. But a MOSTLY silent villain? I'll take it 💵💵

So how COULD this pan out? A guilt-ridden half of a soul, looking to fix her mistakes, and an enigmatic silent villain who's out to get her (as far as we know). Well here's my idea.

It is honestly NOT a bad day. For a wedding.

You heard me correctly. A wedding. Or at the very least, some deeply sacred matrimonial-like vows that Silent Salt is looking to bestow upon himself and White Lily Cookie. Stay with me now.

Throughout the plot of Beast-Yeast, it grew SUPER clear to me that each Beast Cookie was getting progressively more and more obsessed with their other half.

Mystic Flour Cookie, the first Beast to release, could very hardly give a damn about Dark Cacao. And I think that's fitting. Goes along with her whole apathy trait.

Burning Spice pursued Golden Cheese Cookie, yes, but in the way a predator hunts down his prey. Still shows a desire to get his hands on her, and he puts significantly more effort in it than MFC, but it's not enough to be considered super personal.

Things started to get weird when we got to Shadow Milk Cookie tho... like, the way he spoke about this guy, talking about "mine" and basically dolling him up to be his little torture puppet and all that and it's like... alright bru😭

Aaaaaand I don't think Eternal Sugar Cookie needs much explaining

...yeah.

So with this pattern getting significantly more intense with each Beast, it's not so unreasonable to think Silent Salt wouldn't be a little messed up over White Lily.

The only question is how is that going to look?

And I think it'll look as I said earlier: a wedding-like ritual.

We know Silent Salt is volatile, and is threatening. But let's pretend, for the sake of making him an interesting character, that he is willing to adopt a more relaxed and gentle persona for his other half.

Maybe he doesn't want a hostile takeover involved in reclaiming his other half. Maybe, in a more introverted-like manner, he just wants it done quickly and quietly, but to still have meaning behind it. Because, if he took White Lily and her Soul Jam in a matter of seconds, we'd have no interesting plot. SO! It has to be meaningful and aesthetically interesting.

And what other way do we know of two people coming together in a deep, meaningful manner and having a versatile aesthetic in the process?

A wedding.

And how is that going to play into WLC's Light of Freedom and SSC's Light of Silence?

...A forced marriage.

For those that don't know, a forced marriage is when one or both parties do not or CANNOT consent to being married. I know it's a very popular trope in dark romance books, but these kind of marriages are real, and they are NOT very nice experiences, often having to do with a history of violence against women and are considered a human rights violation. Befitting in this instance, but I'd rather it be used to further add onto the turmoil White Lily Cookie would have to endure, if this theory winds up being true.

Now here's how it could play out.

White Lily Cookie and maybe the Faeries (being Mercurial Knight Cookie and Silverbell Cookie), walking into the Salt Flatland (as shown below)--

--are now within Silent Salt Cookie's reach. After a well-fought struggle, WLC alongside the Faeries are captured by the Salt Soldiers (as I'll call them), and are taken to Silent Salt Cookie himself.

Upon having his other half in front of him, SSC would then propose to her, perhaps with a ring made of rock salt, and despite WLC's loud and obvious denials... he silences her. Via a rag over her mouth, some dark magic that takes away her voice, forging her signature on a marital document, WHATEVER the case, he is NOT going to allow WLC any say in his plans.

He is the last Beast to be released, and that very likely means he is the most insane of them all. He is going to be OBSESSED with White Lily Cookie, he NEEDS his other half desperately, and he WILL marry her. No matter what she thinks of it.

THAT is how Silent Salt is going to implement his Light of Silence over WLC. He will become one with her, he will take away her Light of Freedom, and he will allow her absolutely NO choice in the matter, taking away her freedom and forcing her into silence.

Then follows the whole process of WLC overcoming this suffocating feeling of being silenced, where she Awakens and gets a new label. Maybe something like "Revolutionaire" which is French for "revolutionary", which would essentially be WLC after breaking free of SSC's torment. The French word would also fit considering her Soul Jam is shaped like a fleur-de-lis, giving her more ties to her already-existing French-European inspirations.

So yes. Forced marriage, ushering WLC into silence. Episode 11 would likely be when she gets captured and bears witness to the preparations for the wedding/ceremony takes place around her, and Episode 12 could be the actual ceremony, to which she pulls a runaway bride move, thus letting her voice be heard, and she Awakens in the process.

I think this could make for a decently good plot for Silent Salt :)

#cookie run kingdom #white lily cookie #silent salt cookie #mercurial knight cookie #silverbell cookie #beast yeast #beast yeast episode 11 #beast yeast episode 12 #crk theory

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