#I refuse to even call these people even human anymore

[toh-proship-positivity]

Cricket here. Been informed people are saying Griff should die. No. Stop. That shit is not okay to say under ANY circumstances, if Griff ends up killing themselves because of this I will raise hell, mock my words.

[pastadoughie]

many people were confused about some of my previous posts, so for the sake of clarity i am condensing everything! tumblr has extremely transphobic moderation practices, often flagging completely innocent posts as explicit, solely for containing trans women in them or mentioning transgenderism. while letting untagged porn in sfw tags (ive literally seen porn tagged as "sfw agere") and blatent hatespeech, especially twards trans people (just look at the "gender critical" tag) go completely unchecked recently the CEO of tumblr had a big public hissyfit about people (rightfully) calling him transmysogenistic, going into random trans womens dms to harrass them, and saying that predstrogen saying she "hopes he explodes with hammers and then explodes again and hammers fly everywhere" is a death threat and saying he is calling the FBI on her (repeatedly misgendering her and calling her "it") and many bloggers, apon speaking out about it or even making harmless jokes (one trans woman posted a picture of a car and a hammer with the caption "reblog to scare matt" and got nuked for it) and many are very very angry (rightfully) about this whole affair and tumblr in general. if you would like to look into it i reccomend scrolling the "predstrogen" tag as she is the case most people are talking about at the moment. So, what can we do? this is clearly an ongoing issue, and, dispite having lost a lawsuit about their transphobic moderation in the past (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement) its clearly not gonna stop with just user complaints, as staff members are perfectly content to just go scorched earth on users who even so much as lightly poke fun at them well if you want to help you should contact the human rights commision (i will give clear details further down) ! you dont have to be in the US, nor be an adult to file, and it only takes a few minutes. this is the best and most effective method to fix this, because it hits tumblr where it hurts. human rights acencies have a lot of legal and financial power and tumblr CAN NOT just ignore them, and given that this will be the seccond time this is happening, the commisions shouldnt be playing nice anymore eaither. its really important that AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE FILE, and with different examples! while maybe your case might not be enough to prop up a lawsuit on its own, we need to prove a general trend. so every little bit counts! to respond to another question abt this ive gotten, as for what exactly to report, you should a) write about an act of discrimination youve recieved on tumblr that was eaither administered by a staff member OR that staff refused to give adequate moderation action in for example : a terf posted some blatent hatespeech targeted twards you, and you reported them, and staff looked at the issue and refused to persecute it. example 2 : you were unfairly flagged, deleted, or otherwise punished by a staff member and you are queer ( AND the post they banned you for has some kind of tie to your gender, ex : a sfw transition progress photo ) OR b) if you have not personally recieved something like that, please look for other peoples stories (THEY SHOULDNT BE HARD TO FIND, within the last couple of hours trans people have been being banned LEFT AND RIGHT for trying to speak on this. i would reccomend checking some of the tags related to what happened with predstrogen) and you should describe that incident as best as possible (be sure to disclose that you are speaking for someone else, ideally you should tell the story of someone you know, if possible.) you can also mention any reports you have made twards people posting blatent hatespeech that, opon reveiwing tumblr refused to prosecute dispite it being very obviously against terms of service. just so nobody gets confused about the filing process, im laying it out in more plain languadge!!

first you should email the SF HRC (san francisco human rights commision), at hrc.info@sfgov.org and say something along these lines :

Hello, I am [full name] from [country or state] and I am filing a complaint against Tumblr, witch is owned by the parent company Automattic Inc. located at 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Tumblr has had previous issues with the NYC DHR for their moderation being unfairly biased against trans women (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement).

Despite a legally binding agreement with the NYC DHR, staff members still regularly harrass users based on their gender or sexual orientations. For example : on [date of most recent infraction] [describe incident] (if you are describing an incident that did not happen to you specifically, say something like) This incident involves the user [username] who I am not affiliated with (or/) who I am filing on behalf of.

I can be reached for further inquiries about this incident at [email you want to talk over] or [phone number you want to talk over]. (if you would like to be anonymous) However, In the event of legal prosecution against Automattic I would refer to be kept anonymous, where possible, in court proceedings. alternatively, you can also call the SF HRC at : 415-252-2500, you can use the above text as a starting point for this as well, next you want to fill out the form for the NYC DHR (new york city department of human rights) here : https://www.nyc.gov/site/cchr/about/report-discrimination.page for company you wanna put : Automattic and/or Tumblr for address you wanna put : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003 for phone number you wanna put : (646) 513-4321 and for category of discrimination you can put : Discriminatory harassment and basis of discrimination you can put : Gender; Gender identity you can then use a similar script on the written section of the form. when describing a specific incident, you should attach as many screenshots and links as possible! (for links, include both a live link and an archival link, so take a capture with the internet archive and have that as an alternative, incase a staff member gets petty.) this should only take a few minutes at most, and it helps alot! you can fill this out if you are a minor, and you dont have to be a us resident, please please take the time!!! and, just to clarify because there are many posts going around that are confused about this tumblr moved offices to san francisco recently, so their main HQ is at : 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110 they DO still have an office in new york city, and thats where their PREVIOUS HQ was, the address is : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003

[pearwaldorf]

I hate that you can't see a tweet thread anymore if you're not logged into Twitter (as a gesture of disrespect I refuse to call it by its rebranded name). Here is a copypasta of a thread from Dan Olson, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, expanding upon camera quality, the guilt trips Somerton used to goose his Patreon subscriptions, and how the best tools will never make up for lack of dedication or patience. I have added clarifications in [[double brackets]] where I feel it is necessary.

START OF THREAD

Okay, so, back in April I snapped at James in reply to a tweet that was linking to this video (which James has since delisted but not deleted) and I want to talk about the full context of that but I don't want to make a video, put your beatdown memes away. [[The video has since been deleted. I can see the title of the video is "Maybe the end (not an April Fool's Day thing".]]

The first bit of context is that I initially got keyed into James to fact-check his claims about indie filmmaking in Canada. As a filmmaker the entire Telos venture was immediately obvious as a juvenile fantasy dreamed up by someone with no idea how to make a movie.

Just wild claims about their plans that weren't worth debunking because they bordered Not Even Wrong. But in watching one of these pitch videos I noticed that he had a $4000 current-gen camera in the background as a prop, and that seemed both pretentious and weird.

You don't use your best camera as a prop, you use your second best camera as a prop. So being an obsessive weirdo I needed to know, and I watched his BTS stuff until I spotted his main rig, a $6000 camera with about $1000 in accessories.

Now, these in isolation are unremarkable because his Patreon at the time was bringing in ~$8000 per month, his channel was a full on Business business, and so investing in some professional equipment of that level is maybe a bit indulgent but justifiable.

What was weird is that he doesn't shoot multi-cam, doesn't shoot outdoors, doesn't shoot on location, and in a studio the two cameras kinda really step on each others' toes. Basically if you already have one and don't need a B cam there's no reason to get the other.

Again, on its own, this says nothing, it's just indicative of poor financial decisions, maybe impulsive purchasing, Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Biblical sins, but not crimes.

Paired with the constantly inflating fantasy scope of the Telos films it was clearly an expression of a very, very common bad filmmaker habit of "if I just get the right gear then my movie will basically make itself" Buying stuff because it feels like progress.

At the end of February he tweets "I want to start shooting anamorphic" and then three weeks later in March he posts the worst, out of focus, under-exposed "I just got a new lens!" video I've ever seen, showing off his trash-covered bedroom.

Based on what's available for his cameras and the lead time, that's enough time to get a Laowa Nanomorph or Sirui Saturn from B&H but not enough time to get a Great Joy from the UK or a Vazen from China. And with the flaring blah blah blah, $1300 lens.

Again, [gear acquisition syndrome] is not a crime and these lenses are budget options. Bit of a pointless impulse purchase since he only used it for the Showgirls video. But this is what he was doing just a few weeks before that above video came out: effortlessly impulse purchasing lenses.

James has (had?) a habit of regularly, aggressively driving viewers to Patreon by claiming that videos were getting demonetized. While tacky, it is something a lot of queer YouTubers have dealt with, so there's precedent there. But people were noticing he did it a lot.

Mid-March he humble brags about needing to work so hard to make 6 videos in April because he has over-booked sponsorships.

Then March 29th James posts this whole incel screed on Twitter about how sex work should be "subsidized as a mental health service."

[two image descriptions.

1. "For the majority of people sex (and human contact) can be imperative to a healthy state of mind. A kind and talented sex worker can make someone feel wanted for the first time in their life. I know sex workers who have pulled people back from suicide just by being there for them." 2. "Not only should (sex work) be legal, but it should be subsidized as a mental health service."]

He spends several days getting absolutely *roasted* for this, just dragged across the pavement and read for filth, and doubles down in the replies the whole way.

So this is the context immediately surrounding James waking up on Friday, and posts the above video and the below tweet.

[image description: "We just got the lowest Patreon payout we've gotten in well over a year. Like, a "maybe we need to rethink things" kind of amount... NOT an April Fools Day thing btw. But I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer."]

Now, this unfolds in kinda two directions. The first is that I'm convinced he was just lying about this income shock in the first place.

There's a million theoretical edge cases about what maybe happened and if maybe he just misunderstood the data or saw a glitch and panicked, maybe one of those happened, I don't believe it, I think he just lied because he was salty about getting dragged and felt owed a win.

A big tell to me is that he doesn't blame Patreon. He says he doesn't know what happened, but let's be real, Patreon screws up all the time, they're the first people anyone blames if anything confusing happens, just as a reflex action, even if it's completely not their fault.

The only reason to not blame Patreon is if you already know that it's not their fault and that any investigation on their part might reveal embarrassing details.

Instead he indirectly blames his viewers for not watching enough, not sharing enough, and not turning on auto-renew.

So regardless of the unknowable truth, this segues into the second, far more offensive direction of the messaging itself. "I don't know if we'll be making videos much longer." "Maybe the end" He explicitly framed this as an immediate existential threat to his channel.

In the video he is vague about everything, leaves a ton of hazy room for plausible deniability on how long the channel can keep going, but the messaging is "I need more patrons right this minute or my YouTube channel is over."

He repeatedly evokes all the "fun stuff" they had planned that would never see the light of day if this didn't turn around right away.

And his audience received this message loud and clear. Tons of people making far, far, far less than him left very heartfelt messages about digging a little deeper to subscribe or up their pledge or unsubscribe from other channels to move their pledge to his.

1200 new patrons in one day.

Since I simply don't believe the income shock was real in the first place that would put his post-"Maybe the end" Patreon income at around $10,000 per month. US. Add YouTube income, he's spent the last seven months making around $18,000 per month.

I have seen creators scale back their capabilities to the bone purely to keep making videos for the love of just, like, making stuff even as their funding evaporated and they needed to go back to a desk job to cover their bills.

You'd have to be so outstandingly reckless with your finances as a channel that a one month spook leads immediately to "channel over, sorry about all the fun stuff we won't get to do with you, our patrons, specifically because you, our patrons, aren't giving us enough money"

And not a spook where you then spend a couple weeks crunching numbers. Oh no. A shock so violent where less than two hours later you're weeping on camera about the channel being over.

Three weeks later he brought a brand new Sony FX6v for $8000 CAD to add to his pile of cinema cameras despite the fact that he was, but scant moments earlier, in such a precarious position that a single bad month would kill his channel.

He stole your money, and for that I'm profoundly sad and angry. That's why I snapped at him in April. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the full context then, and I'm sorry if that anger upset you.

END OF THREAD

[alyakthedorklord]

Chiroptophobia: the Fear of Bats.

Bruce Wayne is Scared of Bats. This is a Canon Fact.

In a difference from canon, Batman pretends to actually BE a bat man.

(Again, “Loading and Aspect Ratio” by JUBE514 situation with fake wings. Please go read it I love it so much.)

Bruce turns himself into a physical manifestation of his personal worst nightmares, and sets out to be a street cryptid. People see him flinching from bright lights and loud noises (he hasn’t slept in three days and he really hates guns) twitching weirdly (testing his wings function/stimming) not fully understanding human social niceties (you cannot tell me this man isn't Autistic) and, duh, wings, and go ah yes this being is Inhuman.

However, people KNOW Brucie Wayne™ is petrified of bats. There was an incident at a party when one flew through a window, another at a zoo, there was this one time Manbat showed up and he practically teleported away. No one saw him for a whole month, even after Batman had captured Manbat. (He got injured in the fight.)

By extension, this means that Bruce Wayne is afraid of Batman. Just- absolutely terrified of him. No ones seen them in the same place. Ever. Bruce Wayne actually publicly refuses to even believe in the cryptid for YEARS past when he's already been proven to exist.

When the Justice League gets called in to protect Bruce and his smattering of children from some plot (batman conspicuously absent, despite Gotham being his territory) Bruce straight up tells the league that he doesn’t believe in Batman, and he feels much safer with “real heroes” rather than “a urban legend spawned from overdramatic furries and gang wars.”

The justice league is, obviously, confused.

Certified little shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, (because we’re going with JUBE514’s canon and jason doesn’t die they’re all brothers f off-)

ANYWAYS: Certified Little Shits Dick, Jason, and Tim, ready for chaos/solidifying secret identities: “Don’t worry! We believe in batman! We saw him!” :D

They then proceed to tell the justice league that Bruce HAS met Batman, but he has a phobia of bats, so when Batman saved them at a gala Bruce screamed so loud and shrill he threw off the bat-hearing and then punched batman in the face so hard he knocked him out cold, grabbed then-baby Jason and ran. (Nightwing and the second Robin had to HEROICALLY rescue a dazed Batman, Dick saw it with his own eyes!)

Bruce was so scared of the bat coming to take revenge that he jumped at every shadow for a whole month. Why, Jason, (who was younger then) had slept in Bruce's bed to keep him safe! (Dick is crooning about his cute little brother. Jason, who is hitting his growth spurt and not a little kid anymore, is infinitely embarrassed.) Right now, Brucie has settled into firmly denying Batman’s entire existence so that he can sleep soundly at night.

“Why is he so scared of bats?” The Justice League is wondering. Oh, they are so glad they asked!

“Alfred told us a story once,” Dick says, eyes wide and innocent as he prepares to lie through his fucking teeth, “that when Bruce was little, really little, he got trapped in a cave filled with bats, and his dad had to come rescue him. Apparently, Little Bruce had been crying about a massive bat, even bigger than he was, with glowing red eyes and human hands and (gasp) wait oh my goodness gracious what if that was the BATMAN :0”

“The baby batman.” Jadon adds.

“Batboy?” Tim wonders.

“Alfred, do you think Bruce met Batman when they were little?” Dick asks.

“I believe,” Alfred “the greatest enabler” Pennyworth hums, offering fresh baked scones to thier gleeful audience, “that Master Bruce referred to what he saw as ‘the bat king’ and reported seeing him outside his window several times over the years.”

“Maybe it really was him! Will you ask Batman for us?” Tim asks, already planning to hack the watchtower cameras and set up some popcorn with his brothers.

The Justice League, who have learned more about the Batman in one conversation than they have over MANY years of working together, tell the Wayne children that it will be their Genuine Pleasure to quiz batman on his interactions with BRUCIE WAYNE who has, apparently, laid batman out cold with one punch.

Alfred adds on that he personally thinks the Batman is being rather courteous to Master Bruce, as “bat king” sightings were after “difficult times” and he doesn’t come near the manor otherwise, as robin had been the one to return some family heirlooms that one time they were stolen. He calls the batman and his robins “polite young gentlemen” and then leaves.

But now the gears are turning in the justice leagues heads. Batman? Courteous? Polite? Batman is not Courteous or Polite. Not unless something else is going on.

Now. From their point of view. Batman lives in the cave systems under the richest houses in Gotham, Phantom of the Opera style, hiding his meta form (because this batman is playing cryptid really well. Maybe he was a mutant baby of some Rich Gothamites, who threw him into the caves in shame!) He’s been watching Bruce Wayne, likely as he struggled with the highly reported on demise of his parents, seeing the effects that crime had on the boy that fell into his cave all those years ago. Batman has always been so protective of children, so hateful of guns, obviously the Wayne tragedy is part of what motivates him. He loves Gotham dearly, territorial of it to the point of keeping other heroes out, and yet he breaks that rule here, for Gotham's prince, solely for Bruce’s comfort.

Bruce, another person who obviously loves the city of Gotham just as much, putting millions into charity and relief efforts. Who is clearly very protective of his children, even if he usually has no spine, to the point of attacking his greatest fear to keep then safe, and good enough to land a hit, even. (Bruce Wayne is also considerably attractive.)

Its all so clear to the Justice League: Batman is madly in love with Bruce Wayne. Has been for years. To the point of watching him sleep, on occasion. How very tragic! Batman, in love with someone he can never be with! Not only would it paint a massive target on Bruce’s back if they ever did get together- there’s no questioning what Gotham villains would do if they discovered this, (and denying himself love out of an attempt to keep others safe is EXACTLY the kind of self-sacrificing nonsense Batman would pull) But Batman can’t even truly see the man he’s in love with without Brucie running away in terror! Well, the poor guy… how sad…

This conclusion can be supported by the following evidence-

Batman being the one to catch the guy who put the hit out on Bruce. He sent them to babysit/make sure Bruce was safe while dealt with the actual threat. (Bruce had a suspiciously long bathroom break/a nap)

Batman’s first appearance being right after Bruce Wayne returned to Gotham. Was the bat following him to protect him in those missing years? Or maybe he decided to clean up the city now that his beloved had returned?

Batman always being seen near where Bruce is. He’s never once been at the watchtower when Bruce has a public appearance- he must be watching over him, a silent guardian in case someone gets it in their head to kidnap Gotham’s Prince.

Batman insisting that Bruce is innocent in a corporate scheme, despite evidence to the contrary. (Hes right in the end, of course, but they’ve never seen him ignore evidence so clear.)

Batman casually referencing Wayne Tech/Foundation inner workings- he keeps an eye on them, of course. (If he can’t be close to the object of his affections, the league reasons, of course he’d make sure that Bruce’s company and projects are on the right track)

Nightwing, when asked, confirms the Bruce Punching Batman story. He says “honestly I think B was impressed! Caught him off guard!” (Since when does Batman lower his guard? Only when he’d be… distracted, perhaps…)

Superman saves Bruce, who thanks him with a kiss on the cheek. Later, justice league was teasing Clark, batman huffs and leaves the room. He’s CLEARLY jealous! Superman feels just awful!

Batman inexplicably knowing social dances/high society manners- he must have learned by watching (stalking) bruce! He can navigate high profile talk if he wants to, he just doesn’t want to most of the time. but if the situation calls for it he can talk like the Richest of Pricks in a way that only comes with observation.

Batman bristling when some of the league members start making Comments on Brucie Wayne’s Physical Attributes. (Jealousy? Defensiveness? Perhaps… embarrassment at GL’s detailed explanation on what he’d do with a chance in bed with Brucie.)

Batman absolutely freezing up when confronted with any of the above evidence. (He’s trying SO HARD not to laugh/go tell his kids)

Dick/Jason being big enough to wear the Bat-wings rather than thier own and be convincing- they save Bruce, though the man passes out (from fear? Blood loss from an injury? Perhaps- he is faking) and Dick/Jason, either out of genuine concern for their dad or general “how can i stir the pot” chaos, gently strokes his hair away from his face in an act of compassion that the cameras just so happen to catch. (There’s a few tears shed in the justice league- poor batman! He can’t be with his love!)

The robins (in both identities) telling the justice league that they've seen batman watching him.

“oh yeah he does background checks on aaaaaall bruces conquests. Had a conniption when brucie found a mafia boss that one time.”

“And when he found out Bruce and Two-face had a fling!”

(The league notes that often, if a criminal gets too close to Brucie, they’re put away not long after. B is usually collecting evidence in his civilian ID. But it looks like angry Batman wanted them to get the hell away from his mans.)

The Justice League is swooning over this tragic, forbidden love story. Batman is a little creepy but hey. He apparently grew up in a cave system. Its a wonder he's as well adjusted as he is. Batman has their sympathy, he seems less unflappable/untouchable, they’re a little more understanding with him now. Superman is all too happy to be a rebound, if needed. There are magic users offering glamour spells. Green Lantern is making exposure therapy innuendos.

The robins can’t believe how lucky they got. They’re def grounded but B can’t be too mad bc his secret identity is FUKIN SET.

Alfred is rather proud of Batman's new nickname in the league being “the bat king” and keeps sending batman along with cookies. The league thinks Batman is checking up on bruce with his butler. Its a mess.

Eventually, Batman loses a bet to one of his kids. Committing to the Bit with an exasperated sigh (he’s definitely not having fun, shut up jason.)

He admits to his crush.

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (part 3/?)

(Part one, part two, part four, part five. Also on AO3)

Dick took a deep breath before he exhaled. He dialed up the number and was quiet as it rang. When it finally beeped, he greeted, “Hello, Bruce.”

“… Dick.”

“I’m taking Jason for a trip.”

“Okay.” A pause. “Where?”

“To see the cluster.”

He could almost hear Bruce grit his teeth, knowing that he distrusted the little galaxy even more after Dick had made a deal with one of the stars, binding them together. Bruce also especially hated them because even after more than half a decade, he still could not understand the mystery behind the cluster.

But Bruce was apparently desperate to talk to Dick again, since he sucked it up and allowed it. It was Dick and Jason’s first outing, and he seemed oddly happy to let Dick take away his adopted brother into space.

When Jason had heard about it, he was excited.

“Wait, I’m seriously going to space? I get to see the cluster too??”

“Yes,” Dick huffed. “We’re going in a few days.”

“Do I need to wear the uniform? I don’t, right? Isn’t the ship safe?”

“You don’t need to. Nobody but us and people with high authority can come to the station.”

“Sweet!”

Dick chuckled and teased, “You’re so excited.”

“And you aren’t? Well, I guess that energy levels can start dropping when you’re getting old,” Jason said with casual brutality.

Dick gasped. “What! I’m not old!”

“Your age doesn’t have the ‘teen’ in it anymore. Face it, Dickwing, you’re old.”

Dick’s jaw dropped, gobsmacked.

Was it possible to be this sassy at such a young age?! He wasn’t this snarky either when he was this young, right?!

“Y’know what? Let’s cancel the whole thing. I refuse to take this disrespect!”

Jason immediately began whining. “Wait, no! I’m sorry!”

They joked about it, planned some more, and then the day came where Dick drove into the Batcave, ready to pick up his… brother to hang out.

“Ready to go, Little Wing?”

Jason bounced on his heels. “Yep! We’re going to see space, right?”

Dick smiled and nodded. Bruce slinked into the Batcave just as the two of them were climbing into the teleportation tubes.

“B!” Jason called. “We’re going!”

“… okay. Be safe.” Bruce was quiet for a moment, as Dick was inputting the code for the space station that bordered the cluster his star was in. Then he added, “Both of you.”

Dick glanced up, gave a curt nod, and then looked back down again. Jason shifted awkwardly next to him as the silence ensued.

As Dick finished, Jason waved goodbye again and pulled on his elbow for him to do the same. Dick sighed and also waved goodbye.

“Bye, B!” Jason called, before the teleportation started and away they went.

They landed in the dock and Dick immediately checked up on Jason, who stumbled from the unexpected landing.

“How was it? Teleportation is neat, isn’t it?”

"By neat, you mean nauseating?" Jason snarked. He looked vaguely green, but quickly got himself back under control and then bounced back to being all smiles. "We're going to see your star, right?"

"And all of the other stars and planets too," Dick said. "Are you excited?"

"Yep! I can't wait to see what they look like! What are they like? Are they nice?"

Dick smiled at the thought of his star, who had been his sounding board, his (metaphorical) shoulder to cry on, his anchor when he had been adrift after losing his right to become Robin.

"Very nice. You've read the report on them, right?"

Jason nodded seriously. He recited what he remembered, "This star cluster consists of mainly planets and stars that used to be humans before being changed by an unknown entity called "Clockwork". This "Clockwork" person has a relationship or power involving time. The four stars in the middle of the cluster, who anchor it and are the center, consider Clockwork to be their protector and family. The four stars in the middle are royalty, are all related as siblings, and are also dead children."

At the last description, Dick winced and went, "Yeesh, I don't remember that part being said like that in the report."

Jason shrugged. "I’m paraphrasing."

Dick gave a small laugh and shook his head. Jason was surprisingly more fun than he had remembered. Usually, he remembered him being gloomy and bratty, as well as hot-tempered. Dick had not liked him at all, especially because Bruce had been a hypocritical asshole who had fired him for being a child and then turned around just to adopt another one and slap the name Robin on him.

(Sometimes, he wondered why Bruce hadn’t adopted him too.)

Dick was quiet as he led Jason towards the command room.

Once inside, Jason gave a loud gasp as he immediately flew forward to look out the glass.

“Is that—?”

“Yep.” Dick couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. He followed Jason at a more subdued pace and came up to the glass window. “This is the Phantom Cluster. It used to be considered a galaxy, but we discovered that a lot of the other stars and planets around it aren’t sentient, so we don’t consider them a part of the cluster. The star system in the middle pulled them in.”

“Whoa. How many sentient planets do they have?” He tilted his head this way and that in order to see more.

“Hmmm, somewhere around 3 dozen? But only those two talk to us and they’re considered part of the King’s “court”,” Dick said as he pointed towards the two planets that orbited the four cosmic bodies.

Jason stared at them with interest, eyes darting back and forth between all of the astronomical objects in view, the planets, the stars, the star corpses, the asteroids. As he stared in silence, he shivered and Dick took note of that, seeing that it wasn’t something that came from the cold.

He understood it.

These stars were once breathing, living, walking humans like they were. Children, too.

Now they floated in the empty void of space, silent beyond the radio waves they emitted, unfeeling beyond what emotions they had after transformation, existing beyond what was given to them in order to stay “alive”.

Sometimes, it was difficult to think of them as once human, when they were everything but that without the memories.

They gave off such a strong sense of otherness that it was almost frightening.

Jason pointed to the one with clouds covering its surface. “Is that… water vapor clouds?”

Dick grinned. “Yeah. That planet can hold life, but we haven’t touched down yet. It’s considered rude and they get angry.”

Jason smiled. “Cool.”

Dick pointed at his star. “That star is mine.”

“Wow,” Jason breathed in awe and pride swelled in Dick’s chest at the sound of his amazement. He gazed at his brightly glowing star with thinly veiled satisfaction.

Yes, it was a star now.

His star, who was once a black hole, had collapsed on itself on the day that he had shed his Robin identity and tried to find his own independence.

He remembered it so clearly.

——

“Uncle Clark! What do you mean my star is gone?!” Dick shrieked. He pressed his phone against his shoulder for easy movement as he started his car and began to drive desperately back to the Batcave, where the teleportation tube there would be able to take him straight to the station that watched over that strange, little galaxy.

He felt tears in his eyes as he drove like a madman past traffic and honking cars.

Only a few days ago, he had basically been fired from his lifelong job and passion after getting injured from fighting the Joker and he had only left the Manor today, and now he had to crawl back because his star was dying.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Why wasn’t anything going right?

It was just too much. Dick scrubbed the tears from his eyes and continued to bark on the phone, “Superman! What is happening?!”

“I don’t know,” Superman said. “Your star just stopped spinning a few days ago, and at first, I didn’t think it was a big deal because the rest of the cluster was still singing. But today, it started… shrinking.”

“Shrinking?! Tell me what’s going on!” His stomach felt like it was going through a wringer. He was almost sick with worry and exhaustion.

He had no one else now. Alfred was with Bruce, and Bruce had abandoned him. He couldn’t depend on other heroes like some charity case, and all he had left was his star…

Please… please let it be nothing.

“I don’t know. It’s shrinking and it’s stopped sucking in gas and matter a while ago too. This happened at least a week ago.”

Could nothing go right?!

Dick smacked the steering wheel of his car in rage, making it honk and the car in front of him to surge forward.

He raced back to the Manor and through the secret entrance to the Batcave. When Bruce came down to see what was happening, Dick had already gone through the teleportation tube and stuck a sticky note on the computer to tell him what was going on before he left.

For a moment, he thought Bruce could chase him, but he didn’t. Dick was left alone as he teleported to the space station.

When he landed on flat ground, he immediately took off towards the command room, where Superman was floating and staring out the window with confusion.

“Robin!” Superman called, and then he winced.

Dick felt his stomach twist into knots from the shame as he realized that his favorite superhero knew he was fired.

“You know,” he said tonelessly.

Superman grimaced and nodded. “I’m sorry. Batman shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yes. He shouldn’t have.”

Superman rubbed the back of his neck and then he gestured to the window, “There’s your black hole. I’m not sure why, but he started changing a week or two ago. I think it was around the time you got… uh, benched.”

It was both endearing and infuriating how Superman sugarcoated things to avoid hurting him.

It made Dick feel even more ashamed as he grit his teeth and realized that his star was being punished for his actions.

Dick laid his eyes on the cluster outside the window and felt his heart break. Like him, his star looked weak and small. Like it was stripped of its layers (his role, his mother’s nickname for him, his last piece of his family), it looked dull and small. It didn’t move as much as before either.

“My star?” Dick asked, his voice cracking as he came closer to the glass.

His star did not respond, still and silent. The song of the stars was quieter than usual too. It sounded sad and sorrowful, filled with melancholy and loss.

Dick felt tears in his eyes again.

Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to cry.

It was just inevitable. He and his star were connected in more ways than one. The two of them were bonded, two halves of a whole, two parts of a relationship, like milk and cereal, and peanut butter and jelly.

Okay, actually, he was just being melodramatic.

But the truth remained: Dick loved his star. He loved his star like he loved Bruce, like he loved Kory, like he loved his parents, like he loved Alfred, like he loved Barbara. His star was his family and he hated just how the both of them looked weary and worn out in this moment.

He remembered his childhood, where he would slip onto the manor’s roof and talk to his star, who would glitter and sparkle in the smoky sky of Gotham. He had loved it, had loved how he could see his star in the night sky, and how he responded back in the ways only a star could.

It sucked that his condition reflected back on his star.

It was unfair how Dick’s suffering and unhappiness appeared on his star too.

“R—… Dick, are you alright?”

Dick wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “I’ll be fine. Can I… Can I stay here for a little while? Just a couple of days.”

Superman looked sympathetic and it killed Dick inside to see the pity on his face.

“Of course. Whatever you need. There’s more than enough food and water in the station…. Do you want me to talk to Bruce?”

“No.” His voice came back sharp. Superman winced and Dick wanted to feel apologetic, but he couldn’t help but be angry at the thought of his foster father.

“No need. I’ll be okay here, thanks.”

Superman then nodded slowly and left, leaving Dick alone in the command room.

His black hole hummed in the background, spinning slowly. Its dark light shone on him as it spun, but Dick could only feel cold.

That was to be expected when in a room across from three dead stars and a baby star, but the cold was inside of Dick as well, penetrating his bones and making his stomach feel like lead.

He felt sick. And tired. And exhausted. And pissed as hell.

He stayed in that command room for days. Sometimes, he just sat there and watched the stars move, as his black hole turned dimmer and dimmer until its event horizon could barely be seen.

Was it dying?

Robin was now gone, so did that mean that his star would be gone too?

The King quietly reassured him that it was not true, but Dick worried regardless.

When he wasn’t looking out the window in a daze, he was researching about job offers and career paths. He was still barely in school, and he needed to look onward after being kicked out of being Robin.

Occasionally, Superman would come by and talk to him.

“So what are you planning to do?” He asked one day.

Dick had been writing down a list of ideas for his future and he looked up then. “I… I’m not entirely sure.”

“That’s okay,” Superman reassured him. “You’ll find your path one day. And I know you’ll be great at it. You were always shining brightly, just like a star, I trust that you’ll find your way again.”

He grinned then and Dick returned the look.

“… I want to be a hero again.”

Superman hummed. “Well… not a bad idea. Are you sure? You know the danger of it.”

“I know,” Dick said, determined. “That’s why I want to continue doing what I love. Being a hero helped me in more ways than one. It helped me and it helped others. I want to continue doing good.”

Was it just him or was his star shining brighter?

Dick was distracted by Superman’s next words.

“I see. What are your plans? Are you going to go back to Batman?”

“I think… I think I’m going to go to Bludhaven. I’m going to become my own hero.” He smiled, as the plan solidified in his mind. He was already 18, he could transfer his college credits to another university and finish his education. He would find a job, an apartment of his own, he would finally be independent!

He didn’t need Batman. He was his partner, but if Batman wanted to treat him like a kid, then Dick would show him that he wasn’t. He was smarter, stronger, wiser, and braver than Bruce realized.

He didn’t need him. (Even if it hurt.)

The singing grew louder, then. Just barely noticeable, like the stars were excited but wanted to be quiet so the surprise wouldn’t be let out.

Superman smiled. “That sounds like a great plan. What do you think you’re going to be called?”

He had thought about growing out of Robin before, but since he was forced out of his role like cutting off a child from their mother’s milk, he had thought about it extensively since then.

He gazed at Superman, thinking of the legends he used to tell him when he was young.

“… I think… I want to be named Nightwing.”

Just as his words came out of his mouth, there was a loud bang that echoed from space, and then an explosion that rocked the ship. Metal screeched from the movement and everything turned white. Superman immediately flew at him, covering him with his own body as the spacecraft rocked and creaked ominously from the explosion. Dick was pressed against the floor and his eyes clenched shut as he unconsciously covered his ears from the loud impact of whatever exploded outside his window.

Once the heat dissipated and the ringing of his ears stopped, Dick realized what had happened.

Dick cried out, “No!” and pushed Superman off of him as he stared out the window.

But it wasn’t what he had expected.

He had expected to see devastation, planets blown apart, stars torn in two, nebula clouds drifting from stars going supernova, black holes gone with evaporation.

Instead, he saw a new star.

His black hole had disappeared and in its place, was a bright glowing blue star, hot and enormous, second to no one but his sister, the quasar. His star cooed once, “My Nightwing,” suddenly making everything connect within his mind.

Dick’s jaw dropped as then song burst from the radio.

And in it, something new.

Before, the singing had sounded like that of a group of children from a church choir. It was haunting and beautiful, but light and delicate. It was a song of loneliness and melancholy sung by a group of children who were cursed to become astronomical objects and be alone with only each other in the sky.

But now, there was a new voice.

No, it wasn’t new.

It had grown up.

His star had a distinctly bass and masculine voice, one of a grown man with a deep, almost velvety quality to it. Surprisingly, it melded well with the other voices and they all sang with the sound of new hope and new beginnings, a sign of the new times and change.

Tears came to Dick’s eyes again. It poured down his cheeks and he couldn’t help but smile and laugh as his entire body unclenched from the relief.

Of course.

How had he not realized?

His star wasn’t dying. It was growing up too. The stars had mentioned rebirth before, having been turned from stars into planets into stars again and then into black holes or neutron stars or more protostars.

Dick had been growing up with his star. His star was a child when they made a deal, just like him, and the two of them had grown up together. With the curse, it was the only way his star could find any semblance of becoming himself again. Now that Dick had shed his childish identity as Batman’s partner of Robin into a newer role, his star would also do the same.

“Dick?” Superman asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Dick gave him a wobbly smile that probably didn’t reassure him by the worried look on his face. “Yeah. I’m just fine.”

With his star by his side, Dick would enter a new chapter of his life. He wouldn’t hesitate any longer.

He had finally grown out of the nest, ready to take flight with new wings. Now all he had to do was jump and spread them for a new journey.

——

“Uhhh… what’s that black hole doing?”

Dick snapped out of his thoughts at Jason’s words and looked up. Outside the window, while his star was still alongside his siblings, the quasar was spinning rapidly, flares bursting outwards and lights sparking from the collision of dust and gas.

“… no clue.” She kind of looked like she was showing off.

The singing on the radio grew louder.

They both watched as the quasar continued its little show as the communicator crackled noisily.

The radio hummed, the song slowing down to a halt before then it spoke.

“Hello,” a thousand voices echoed.

Dick pulled his gaze away from the window to look at the monitor.

The chatter of the stars grew more excited as the quasar continued to spin crazily. The King was at the forefront of the speaking stars, who said, “How do you do?”

“… we’re well, thank you for asking.”

Another voice quickly interrupted the neutron star, calling sweetly, “Robin.”

Dick froze, feeling a strong sense of déjà vu. It was all too familiar of a scene. A scene that had occurred to him only 7 years ago.

Jason looked at Dick for answers, but when he was too dumbfounded to speak, Jason answered quietly, “Yes?”

“… do you want to help me?”

Dick and Jason stared at each other.

“Should I?” Jason asked him and Dick hesitated.

He had never felt like being the human host for a star was a burden. In fact, it held no repercussions for him, since all he had to do was grow and live and his star would follow. Frankly, it was almost a completely one-sided deal since Dick got all of the rewards.

His mouth felt dry. When they had mentioned Robins before, was it a sign that if Batman had more children and more Robins, they would all become a host for his galaxy?

“…. It’s your choice, Little Wing.”

Jason nodded slowly, and asked, “Who are you?”

“In front of you,” the voice called and the quasar gave a small spin with a burst of light from her accretion disk. Her jet pulsed and Jason oohed at the sight of it.

“Dick, who’s that one again?”

“That’s the quasar,” Dick said. “She’s the big sister of the cluster.”

Jason smiled, silent for a moment as he watched the quasar move before he answered her, “How can I help you?”

“Make a deal with me.”

“What do I get out of it?” Jason asked, as Dick put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

“I’ll watch over you. Protect you when I can… I’ll be yours.”

Jason smiled toothily. “But I don’t wanna be owned by something.”

There was sudden silence, only the crackling of static and the same sound of ocean waves filling the air. Dick eyed Jason with wide eyes, trying to telepathically sending him question marks for his vague refusal when there was seriously no downside.

Then finally, “You won’t be owned by me.” The quasar sounded hesitant and a little sullen, almost offended.

Jason tilted his head. “Okay. Then I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t own me, but we’ll belong to each other, ‘kay?”

There was silence again as the quasar thought about it. Then, sounding more pleased and extremely adoring, the answer came out in a quiet hushed and awed, “Okay.”

The quasar seemed shocked by Jason’s handling of the situation, who dared to even negotiate the terms of what they were to each other. Dick watched, slightly impressed as the quasar seemed even more endeared than before.

Jason said, “Deal!” before he put his hand on the glass and several flares came from the quasar.

Gas and dust rubbed against each other in an impressive show of lights and fireworks before one of the flares popped and then a piercing light came rushing towards them. Dick gripped Jason’s shoulder tighter before the light burst through the window and then into Jason’s hand, up his arm, and then his cheek before it then settled.

Jason gasped, bending over slightly as his hand came up to cradle his face as Dick rushed to catch him.

“Little Wing! Are you okay? Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think it’d be this bad! It wasn’t the last time!”

“I’m okay, Dickwing! Seriously!” Jason batted away his hand and then looked up at his reflection through the glass. “Whoa.”

On the left side of his face, below his eye and on his cheekbones, lines began to appear with bright bursts of black, bloody orange, and a turquoise blue. The same four pointed star as Dick’s appeared, its lines long and pointed. As the ink began to settle, Jason smiled, satisfied as he stroked the newly formed tattoo before he called out into the communicator, “Thanks!”

The stars were all celebrating around the quasar, a more cheerful and happy tune as they sang and spun.

“No, thank you, my dear Robin,” the quasar responded happily through the singing and cheering.

Jason beamed. Dick, however, frowned, as he reached down to press a thumb against the tattoo and said, “Isn’t the mark too obvious?”

“Didn’t you say that you could hide it before? You just have to teach me!” Jason said, with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to refuse. However, the smile on his face wouldn’t die, and he looked overjoyed.

Noticing Dick gazing at him, Jason grinned.

Huh, how had he not noticed that Jason had dimples?

“Thanks for bringing me here, Dickwing!” Jason said with a wide grin. “I can’t believe I have my own star!”

Dick couldn’t help but smile too, and said, “No problem. Take care of her well.”

“I will! I definitely will!”

As Dick looked up out the window and observed his own star, who was spinning happily in circles around his newly bonded sister, he couldn’t help but marvel at the turn of events.

Who knew that this Robin would also acquire the protection of a star?

Man, Bruce was going to freak.

|||||||||||||||||||

BRUCE. I WANTED YOU TO BE A GOOD FATHER. WHY IS IT THAT EVERY TIME I RESEARCH CANON EVENTS, YOU’RE ALWAYS FUCKING THINGS UP. YOU’RE RUINING MY WHOLESOME SPACE THEMED SERIES, BRUCE.

Why did this turn into a coming-of-age story lmaooo but I’m lowkey happy with it tho

The distinction between “you not owning me, but I’m yours” is important (kinda). It’s more of a “we belong to each other” rather than Dick and Dan’s “you’re mine” thing going on. Also, yes, the placement of the tattoos is on purpose. I switch between it/he pronouns for Dan (and the other celestial objects) bc it’s just easier and I feel like sometimes, it’s needed to show that they are not human.

Also, as per everyone’s request, there will be no shipping involved :) there will be a bit of qpr and codependency, but I love those, so it would’ve been included anyways.

Dan has completed his transformation from a black hole into a blue giant! Blue giants are very hot, big, and rather short-lived because they burn out quickly. Specifically, Dan is a giant star with a spectral class of B0Ib and a magnitude of -0.02 (which means he’s one of the bigger giant stars, his color is blue, and he is somewhat able to be seen from Earth).

Irl, it’s pretty inaccurate to real stars and black holes, bc black holes cannot collapse on itself (it’s literally a collapsed star, it cannot collapse further) and usually will only evaporate and disappear through Hawking radiation (which takes so long that all stars and star corpses will disappear before black holes will be gone). However, stars can recycle old material from dead stars to grow and that’s what happens here. Clockwork comes by every once in a while to check up on his babies and dump some nebula into the galaxy before he disappears again.

The other stars’ new identities will be revealed soon and I’ll also explore Sam and Tucker’s planet statuses as the series continues. Thank you for reading!

Next up, a certain Robin suffers 😈 (not clickbait).

[myeagleexpert]

𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙?

Yuu has reached her limits, tired and without the strength to fight anymore, it is up to Leona to care for and restore her body and mind with devotion. Notes: Leona in this fic may be a little ooc, but I firmly believe that when he enters into a serious relationship with someone he will become more vulnerable and soft, taking care of the smallest details so that the person feels protected. He's very soft and sweet here, which we all need, right? (Fem!Yuu) You are not a machine, you do not run on steam and electricity. You are a human and you deserve to have your rest days. May this fic be a break for you and so that like Yuu you can have your rest.

This was one of those weeks.

Terrible. Exhausting. Desperate. With sleepless nights and days without eating properly.

And after finishing everything in the early hours of Friday to Saturday and handing over his work to Dire Crowley, because taking care of Grim and doing tasks in a magical world where you parachuted in is tiring enough, imagine the injustice when you still have to do the work of a therapist and do all the paperwork that Crowley forgot to do and threw everything into the shaking hands of the young woman without magic is even more tiring and an overload.

Yuu said goodbye to Grim who went yawning to Ramcharkle and called a sleeping lion to come get you, which was quick, considering he was just waiting for the sign of his love to pick her up on the flying broom and take her in bridal style .

Her friends started to worry because the symptoms were getting worse and worse, frequent headaches, irritation with the squad, confusing people's names and potion ingredients, refusing to stop to rest, because she always responded that she wasn't tired. But everyone saw and turned a blind eye when she fell asleep in the middle of classes, when she shook so much that she couldn't drink water properly, when her nails were always bleeding and her hair became brittle. Everyone was worried and didn't know what to do.

She was becoming increasingly sick and weak, a workaholic, and was unable to share the heavy burdens with anyone. She held the world on her shoulders, dividing herself into 100 so that the work could be done with excellence. Terrible idea, but necessary. She had water up her neck and was running out of air and options.

Jack, as a loyal friend, had the courage to tell Leona everything that was happening to Yuu, and that he, as her boyfriend, should do something. It was then that Leona swore that she would take care of her now, because if the discrepancies didn't lead anywhere, he would have to take drastic actions, like wrapping up an act in a burrito.

"Are you okay?"-Leona looked worried at her strangely cold and quiet form.

"Hunhun.." a yawn interrupted the little princess-"just tired…but fine" with a voice as loud as the whisper of a little mouse.

It didn't take long for them to get to Leona's room, and it took even less time for Yuu to trip on the carpet and hit the arm of the dresser next to the bed. Since when was that damn thing there? And then she threw herself on his spacious bed, still wearing her uniform and sneakers, and with makeup slightly smeared from the day's course on her face.

"Tsk… this herbivore."

The powerful and feared lion gently took off the girl's sneakers and placed her in a comfortable position, being careful not to wake her. And with the greatest care that hands made to destroy, he takes a cloth of warm water and delicately cleans Yuu's face of makeup, removing the excess mascara from her eyes, and the concealer that tried to hide the deep dark circles that were demonstrating the Yuu's exhaustion. Leona almost feels responsible for her tiredness, for her sadness, for not being able to help her enough, for not having been by her side when she deals with giants bigger than herself, for not having talked more about her carrying the world on her shoulders. That she is not alone.

And do you want to know the worst? That it wasn't the first time this was happening and it was getting more intense than before.

Leona was never one to believe in gods or be religious, but that night he prayed at the foot of the bed to whatever powerful being was in the heights, that he would always be by her side, that he would be strong enough to hold her. without trembling, so that one day she can be free and happy.

And when he went to lie down next to Yuu, he held her tight in her sleep, because at least in his arms she wouldn't have to deal with the threats of the world.

It was noon on Saturday morning when Yuu woke up from her more than deserved sleep, but she didn't have the strength to move enough and chose to sleep like a log for another 10 min…20…30… .. until her body decided it could become conscious.

By rubbing her eyes she tried to get used to the light in the place, or rather, the lack of light. Disoriented, she noticed that she wasn't in her precious Ramcharcle room, if she had been Grim would have woken her up for breakfast, meowing loudly until she had her tuna toast. She was then in….

"Good morning, princess." - said the gentle voice of the lion, he crossed the room and opened the curtains letting the sun shine. "How did sleeping beauty sleep?" he took the chance to get into bed with her

"Morning…" Yuu gave a heavy sigh and replied in a slightly worn voice, almost moaning from how refreshing the sleep was "Well…I slept well, my love. Did I give you trouble?"

"It's going to be trouble now" with a smile, Leona stood up and took her hand like a gentleman guiding her to the bathroom.

"Hey…I shower alone."

"This time you're going alone, but next time we'll be together" - he said with a damn smirk - "I have a gift for you"

At the entrance to the bathroom there was a beautiful gift basket. A basket with luxury skincare, recommended by the queen of Sunset Savanah herself and by a brand designed only for celebrities.

"Actually, I was going to give you this gift on our date next week. But my plans were advanced and today seems like a great opportunity." he smiled fondly and gave Yuu a kiss on the forehead before leaving to prepare something for her to eat.

The shower water was like a cold current that took away the thick layer of frustrations, fears, desires, and slowly brought the lightness of Yuu's heart, she smiled involuntarily when she saw that the basket's theme was for sleeping and relaxing, having exquisite notes of lavender and chamomile. He must be really worried. The body scrub renewed her skin, giving her a feeling of deep cleansing and freshness, and when she applied the shampoo and conditioner to her hair, she realized that it had been a long time since she had time to take care of herself with such patience. No spa day for days. No money for a new perfume. No time to take care of your body and mind. Even her nails, which were previously so vain and painted in different colors and interesting details, were bitten, she took out all her anxiety and stress on her nails, because what else could she do?

After a while in the bathroom, she came out and found a pair of clean, folded oversized pajamas on the bed. And she knew it was there for her, because Ruggie had perfected the lavender scent of the fabric softener, because Leona hates strong smells in his clothes.

"How do you feel? Do you want to sleep more?" Leona appeared at the bedroom door suddenly and approached Yuu.

"You arrived just in time, love. I'm just out of the shower" - Yuu wrapped her arms around the prince's waist, pulling him into a hug that was soon returned.

"We'll be eating in a bit. Ruggie is making your favorites and will bring them when ready."

"Great, now I'm going to comb my hair-"

"Nah nah nah bun, let me do it. Sit here." He said sitting on the bed, waiting for Yuu to sit in front of him. And she goes, used to his grooming.

You might think he wouldn't know how to take care of a person, and something as simple and intimate as combing someone else's hair could turn into a disastrous situation. But when it comes to Yuu, his partner, his mate, his equal, he makes a point of applying a cream first and massaging his princess's scalp, combing it with a comb designed for her hair, untangling the strands with tenderness and love. , mentally cursing the knots that dared to remain in Yuu's delicate mane.

How many times had Yuu done this for him in the dark and distressing days he had already gone through? And all he wants is to repay the love he received on a silver platter a thousand times over. Leos are very possessive of their mates, you know? An intense and protective love.

"Did you like the present?" he said, sniffing deeply Yuu's neck, inhaling the calming notes -" Farena's wife who recommendend this to me"

"Wow, what an honor that the queen personally chose my gift." she said laughing "But I did like it, just what I need at the moment."

"hey, I helped too. Don't give her all the credit."

"Oh yeah? And how did you help?"

"Saying whether it was approved or not, of course."

Yuu would comment further on this when he saw the strange pattern Leona was making in her hair.

"Hey baby, what are you doing?"

"I'm finishing your hair, it's like this, right? I researched your hair type online and saw that it's supposed to be styled like this."- If Vil saw this he would be horrified by Leona's messy hairstyle, but Yuu didn't care. This was because she was immensely grateful that her partner was taking care of her so well.

"Ow kitten, thank you." her heart was static, like a wound being healed little by little and it didn't hurt that much. "come here."

Yuu turned around and hugged the big cat, placing kisses on his cheek and mouth. "You're the best, love."

"Everything for you, darling." caressing her cheek and looking deep into the girl's eyes, he continued- "Just for you."

The moment was as delicate as a flower, vulnerable, two people healing each other through gestures and words, enjoying the calm and peaceful moment they hadn't had in days. And if the moment could last longer, it would, but a certain hyena had to enter just in time.

"Leona-sammm~ Yuu's lunch is here. Yuu, are you awake?"

Ruggie found Yuu sitting on the bed, smiling at him.

And Leona staring at him with a hateful face that said: "Don't you know how to hit, hyena?" with its tail wagging in annoyance, like a cat.

"How are you Yuu? This time you scared us so much shi shi shi~" he laughed in relief seeing that his friend, despite being tired, was recovering and left the snack on a small table next to the bed

"I'm getting better little by little… but I'm very hungry!" she said, getting up towards the table and enjoying the smell of the delicious food.

There were two sandwiches with shredded chicken, cheese and ham, lightly toasted, with a protein cream to accompany and two glasses of citrus juice.

Leona knew everything about Yuu and when he saw the eyes lit up by a simple food he knew that the plan had worked: Right at the beginning of their relationship, in a conversation about their childhood Yuu had confessed that her mother always made this sandwich when she was sick and tired to regain her energy, and always, always with a citrus juice to go with it.

He never forgot.

And he wants Yuu to know that even in her smallest details, he hasn't forgotten.

"Eat to your heart's content, we're going to need you tomorrow!" Leona immediately glared at Ruggie the moment he profaned those words.

"Uat weonna do?" with a voice full of food she asked

"Well, tomorrow will be-"

"There won't be anything Ruggie, let her rest. It's Sunday, she'll spend the day here." Leona roared quickly and to the point, wrapping an arm protectively around Yuu's waist.

"Ok ok relax, I'm joking bro shi shi shi~" covering his hand over his mouth he laughed softly, impressed as in any situation involving Yuu, Leona will show her claws to protect Yuu, that's a material for profocation later.

They spent the afternoon relaxing, he was sprawled out on Yuu's lap, while she responded to friends, comments, posts on her cell phone, laughing at her boyfriend's sarcastic comments, watching movies while eating popcorn, and when it was time to go to sleep, they were both cuddled up together, underneath with soft covers, in each other's arms whispering words of love.

"Thank you for today kitty, I felt like a spoiled little princess" she thanked the equally spoiled prince, who was currently having his ears stroked while listening to Yuu's heart, buried in her chest.

"Well, you better get used to it, from now on the treatment is real. And another thing, it doesn't scare me like that. If I see you working yourself to the bone, I'll ruin that crow's race myself."

The two laughed and when a comfortable silence reigned, he could only hear Yuu's breathing slowing down, calming down, and watching how her eyelids slowly became heavier, the good side of night vision.

"Hey Leona….." "Hmm?"

"…I love you" she approached and whispered incoherently with the sleep already taking over her body, on the lips of the lion prince who smiled and returned the kiss

"I love you too, my love." and with that his tail wrapped around Yuu's leg, pulling her closer. The stars are witnesses to this delicate romance, and between the purring of a lion and the slow massages of the princess's hair, the two got the rest they deserved.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

@nickson-lol I think you'll enjoy this <3

[tender-rosiey]

“AND MY HEART SCREAMS: IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU”

— the moment dazai, chuuya, kunikida, fyodor, nikola, ranpo, and fukuzawa knew they wanted to spend their entire life with you

DAZAI OSAMU: the moment he revealed his scars to you—scars that told of the past, details of the past, details that he thought he would never reveal. there were multiple outcomes, but his lonesome heart forced him to expect only one: you getting disgusted and perhaps even refusing to stay any longer. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

so imagine his surprise when your eyes held nothing but sympathy and the utmost tenderness as you gently kissed his scars and whispered only one sentence, ‘I just wanted to be able to be by your side then’. what was he supposed to do other than pull you close and embrace you tightly, burying his face in your hair to hide a face that failed this once to master the mask?

NAKAHARA CHUUYA: when you went out of your way to prepare an unwinding night for the both of you. chuuya loves his with his entire heart and trusts with his entire being. and he sometimes doesn’t know just what to expect from people. so seeing you put so much effort into ensuring his happiness and your own had a certain hold on his heart.

he loves you unconditionally so when you responded to that love with the same intensity, he couldn’t help but gravitate towards you even more. he falls harder, but you’re there to catch him a smile. he approaches you, unaware of what will slip out of his mouth—a desire that has been on his mind for far longer that he thinks, “marry me,” he whispers, gentle and hopeful eyes looking at your own.

KUNIKIDA DOPPO: he is a man who sticks to his ideals and those ideals are to protect others not himself. it pained you, seeing him so ready to sacrifice himself to try and follow up to said ideals till the end. so you held his hand, crying about how you don’t want him to be so careless with himself and that your heart can’t handle seeing him choose his own death as a solution anymore.

he found himself breaking down and pulling you into a tight embrace, constantly murmuring ‘I am sorry’ with kisses pressed on top of your head and reassuring that he will always stay with you. your hold on him doesn’t falter as you feel his tears and he feels his heart getting even more fond of you, his dear true love.

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY: entertainment is something he loves, but it surprises him when he can’t handle entertainment at your expense. when he goes through his plans, even when the most ‘fun’ option involves you, he doesn’t choose it. he finds himself unable to put you in danger he knows he can avoid.

he doesn’t fight the place you have acquired in his heart; instead, he goes to you and his head finds home on your lap. his hand caresses your own and he looks at you with longing like you’re the epitome of what he truly wants for himself. a gentle whisper of your name and you look towards him and he finds sanctity in your gaze. the true form of purity: your love that he succumbs to and accepts as a part of his being.

NIKOLAI GOGOL: when you showed him that you truly understand or even try to him. you don’t call him a maniac or a monster; instead, you smile patiently, heart open for him, and ask him to tell you more. and he does. words spill out of his mouth in an unbelievable speed, thoughts—a jumbled mess—are thrown into the air and you listen.

emotions—the shackles of humans—overwhelm him in a way that he is surprised that he doesn’t hate. His legs grow weak and he falls at your feet, screaming, crying, and repeating a mantra of I love you. when he does calm down, he takes your hand and puts it on his face. he is now held back by love, shackled by you. he knows and he—somehow—doesn’t mind. he just sinks deeper.

EDOGAWA RANPO: when you slept in the office, beside him, while he was planning their next move. it is not often that ranpo actually works. so, it wouldn’t have made him upset if you left because with all his confidence, he values your smile the most. but you stayed, you always did. ‘y/n, you can go back home you know,’ he had murmured, patting your head with a small grin, but you just told him to shut up and you cuddled closer to him.

it’s not the first time you hugged, but, for some reason, this certain hug had him tightening his arms around you before shouting about how he needs to get done quicker so his sleeping beauty can rest properly with an undeniably lovesick and joyful grin on his face.

FUKUZAWA YUKICHI: when you patted his head with a murmur that you trust him. in the eyes of others, it is ultimately meaningless and silly. yet, to him, that single gesture meant the world. and behind closed doors, he rests at ease, knowing his heart is in your hands.

he dotes on others like a strict father, yet when the same affection and trust is thrown at him, he can’t help but smile helplessly while you stroke his hair and pull him close. he also feels his heart set ablaze when he sees you laughing and pulling on his hand, wanting him to join whatever fun you’re having. and he follows you, like he always did and always will—with a smile so serene it tugs at your own heart.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @waosobii @nanamikentoseyebags

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will dislocate your shoulders

[gelakaien]

I disagree when people say there is no romantic subtext in itafushi because, I do think there is. I also disagree when people say there is too little [of romance] to base itafushi on it because that's really not true.

It starts with Megumi saying his type is someone with an unwavering humanity. Which is the very literal meaning of Yuuji's name. It slowly develops from there.

I also don't like how people say itafushi is one sided. IT'S NOT. He cares too much. Fushiguro is always the first one he notices in any room he's in. Even in the time he was hiding his death, he would mention Fushiguro now and then. Fushiguro just doesn't leave his mind, never did. He thinks he's very reliable, he SPECIFICALLY told Sukuna to not say anything to HIM about the fingers-resonance thing in the aftermath of the bridge fight. And the scene at the lake, where Megumi told Yuuji he'd kill him if he died, he defintely took it in a serious way, not just because he said "I better not die then" right after, but like, he even referenced that to Megumi in Shibuya. As a way of reasurance. As a way to say "I won't die on you, I will come back to you." Also thanks Mappa for making this even more gayer with the finger guns thing.

Hell, he even knows Megumi's favorite popcorn flavor and he teached him how to make meatballs. They barely knew each other for a few weeks??? And he was so overly excited to learn he'd be his closest roommate. Sure, you can say he's joyful with anyone and he is indeed, but towards Megumi, it's so much more intense. And yeeessss that could be because they are best friends alright but you can't deny it can work both ways, can you?

Since I touched in the best friends topic, I will quickly say how much it bothers me people refuse to ship two guys because they are two guys the same holds true when it's two girls but I'm mostly talking about a m/m ship. I saw someone yesterday talking about itakugi being endgame and like, sure there was some disapproval, but not as aggressive as it would be if it was an Itafushi post. Because when it's about itafushi, they easily jump on you saying "ThEY arE bEST FrIeNDds, CaN't tWo gUyS bE fRIeNDs anyMoRE??!?!? tHIs is jUst fRIendSHiP sTOpInG mAkInG iT gAy/wOkE!" well, it's funny because these exact people would immediately ship a guy and a gal even though there's so much little going on between them (take Ozawa as an example, sure she is cute and all but people saying they have more chemistry than itafushi is just... lack of literacy, like wtf???? how come a girl that appeared in ONE chapter and then NEVER AGAIN god knows if she is still alive - possible have more chemistry than two guys who went through good and bad shit together since chap 1?). But if it's a m/m, then it's a immediate no-no...? This is not about chemistry, friendship or whatever, there is a very clear name to this, the instict to immediately shut down the idea of two guys or girls together in a romantic way. You know very well what is called, don't you?

Anyway, back to Itafushi.

In the whole Shinjuku fight he's been thinking about Megumi, he went through possible ideas and plans TO SAVE Megumi. He's willing to become Sukuna's host AGAIN to save Megumi. Of course they (including Yuuji) need to defeat Sukuna, stop the Merge and save the world blah blah blah, but until so far, the core of his actions is moved by one objective: to save Megumi.

In post Shibuya he felt so conflicted about whether or not he had the right to live, and when Megumi asked Yuuji to save him, Yuuji's eyes shined again with life. They were devoid of any light until then.

Megumi means so much, so much to Yuuji, he treasures him too much. Way too much!! He would feel lonely without him.

And I don't care the way the translators chose to word this, we can safely assume that to Yuuji, Megumi's absence means loneliness. He would feel a void in his heart (I, the person writting this, am telling this in a romantic way, but you can assume that as platonically too if you like) without him. Megumi MATTERS to Yuuji, and Yuuji MATTERS to Megumi. Hell, Megumi even puts him in the same level of importance as Tsumiki, his sister, the only family he had the whole life. I'm not even gonna dive into the topic of "megumi wanted yuji to marry tsumiki" bc i think that is pure nonsense. plus she's dead. meaning they would never marry anyway.

In conclusion I think there is a lot of room for romance to flourish between these two, it might not be now, it might not be the objective of the whole work (because in the end it's a shonen, so yeah), but it's defintely not weird to think about. Love is a central theme since JJK 0.

Unfortunately people on twitter are mega stupid and I had the unpleasure to see a lot of hate towards itafushi because we apparently are in the wrong for thinking about two guys kissing no matter how much gay chap 266 was. And apparently we are in the wrong for taking Megumi and Yuuji's exchanged to a romantic level even though that shit was gay af (i personally don't talk like that to my best friends but okaaay whatever right) Which prompted me to come to another space (hopefully away from those ppl) to deposit my thoughts.

[heartpascal]

i’ll be brave

▹— joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹— summary: an infected attack leaves you fragile, in more ways that one.

▹— a/n: prepare for many father figure joel fics bc i love him!! also this is not the best thing ever but i love joel so!! hope you guys enjoy <33 planning on doing some more platonic fics where we see them develop more but alas. this is what you get rn!!

▹— tags: @loversdomain

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Growing up in the QZ was all you had ever known, your life limited to the walls that surrounded you, trapped you. You’d heard stories about the world outside, though it was such a foreign concept to you, both of horror and nostalgia.

Until Joel, you were certain you’d never see it. The guards that patrolled were too strict, at least where you lived. It was easier to sneak further in than it was to get out, heading towards where most of the residents lived and worked.

Your father would’ve worked here, you thought to yourself, the very first time you’d managed to get into the centre of the QZ. He would have lived and worked and would have known your mother here. Sometimes, you wonder what life could have been like if he hadn’t of died mere weeks after you’d been born. There was a part of you that longed to know where he was from, actually from, before the world fell to pieces. To know his accent, the sound of his voice, the way he acted… anything.

They told you that your mother fled the day he died, leaving you abandoned in a flat crying for hours until the neighbours finally had enough and cracked open the door, finding you there: alone.

That’s how you had lived your life since, alone. Facing the current world with nobody to teach you, nobody to protect you, to help you escape.

You’re sure that Joel finding you was a miracle, though most people didn’t believe in those anymore, or so you were told. But you were certain that if one was to exist, it’d be this man.

The man who, despite his unwelcoming appearance, had hauled you away from the guards who had tried to beat you until you learned the lesson they were teaching. Who had given you shelter even when he knew nothing more than your name, who had lended you blankets and clothes to keep you warm.

Joel himself certainly wasn’t expecting you — your presence scared him. That day, when he saw those guards attacking you, he felt a glimpse of who he used to be in the life before, and he was unable to walk away. It terrified him, more than any clicker or runner ever could, that he may have some humanity left within him after all.

After Sarah, he turned his nose from anyone who could’ve needed his help. Other than those exempt from that, such as Tommy or Tess, he decided that it wasn’t his business.

But when you called out, being struck again by two armed guards, grown adults, something inside of his chest snapped. Like a tether that had been pulled far too taut, frayed away until the tension was too much to bare. He vividly remembers the blood that had dropped from his hands as he pulled you to your feet, remembers the way it matched the droplets that stained your face.

He wasn’t planning on you becoming part of his and Tess’ little… group, but once he found you, you seemed to stick. You didn’t particularly want to leave, anyway, and when the duo didn’t kick you out? You figured there was no harm in staying.

Now, you travelled with them, earning your place among the two adults, even when they suggested you stay home, where it was the slightest bit safer.

They had refused your requests to come with them on runs for a while, but the first time they allowed it was imprinted on your brain as if branded there by hot metal.

The brightness that came with being outside of the QZ was something you truly didn’t expect, though that could’ve just been in your brain. The QZ was dull, full of grey walls and faces and dirt, but out here was full. Greens and yellows and everything between covered the horizon, and you squinted to see as much of it as you possibly could.

Joel had huffed at you, nudging you lightly to keep you moving, but he wasn’t angry. He and Tess had shared a look, something going between their silence that you didn’t understand, and in that moment, you didn’t care to.

By now, you’d been coming on runs with the two of them for a few months, here and there. When they deemed it wasn’t too dangerous, of course.

Which is why today’s occurrence was so odd — it was a regular run, with you spending all your time in the great outdoors admiring everything that surrounded you, something akin to wonder in your eyes. Seeing all the buildings that had crumbled not long after your birth, taken over by nature and its most fearsome monster; cordyceps. As soon as you approached the desired hit of the day, you put your game face on. It was like flicking a switch in your brain — one second, you could have no worries in the world, stuck in your own head as you wandered around. The next, it was like every movement echoed in your ears, the slightest of sounds drawing your attention.

It was meant to be safe.

That is what Joel and Tess had said — god, that was the only reason they let you join them today, on one of their rare daylight outings: the safety factor.

So imagine your surprise when you slipped, ankle twisting as it went through the creaking floorboards of the building, followed by the clicking.

It was like your whole body froze solid, every muscle fibre tensing and pulling taut, eyes wide — a deer in headlights, Tess might’ve described you as, if her heart hadn’t have been beating so fast it could’ve burst.

Your head swivelled towards where Joel stood, just in front of you, to your right. He stared at you, something dark in his eyes, and you swallowed harshly as he held a finger to his lips, shushing you.

Each of your breaths came out silently, the only sound being the echoing clicks before the footsteps started coming towards the three of you, directly from your left. You swore you could hear the drip of blood in the quiet between each footstep of the monster.

You kept your eyes towards Joel and Tess, as much as you wanted to look to your left, where the sounds were starting to get louder. You watched them as they shared a conversation through their eyes, a nod of understanding held between the two of them. Joel’s expression was pained, but Tess put on her best brave face, giving you a wink.

“Hey, asshole!” Tess yelled, before scrambling to run ahead, a screech echoing in your ear, deafening you. Your breath hitched as she ran, and the clicker followed before your eyes.

As soon as its attention was on Tess, Joel was grasping you underneath your armpits, hauling your leg out of the hole it had fallen in. You held in your cries and winces as the broken floorboards left splinters and cuts all along your calf, your ankle hurting like a bitch.

He was pulling you out before you could utter a word, and by the time he managed to get you outside, your blood had covered your shoe. He leant you against the broken wall that had surrounded the building, ensuring you could stay upright — though you couldn’t put pressure on your leg — before he barked out a, “Stay here!” and ran back inside for Tess.

Your heart was beating in your ears, your throat clogged up as you did your best not to cry. This was your fault — had you not insisted upon joining them again, they would’ve never been put in this situation. They could die in there, and you were stuck out here, unable to even stand on your own two feet.

The pain in your leg was worsening now that you weren’t in imminent danger, though you were sure you were going to pass out when you heard the gun fire a single round.

“Are you guys okay?” You all but yelled as soon as you saw them emerging from the door, Tess leading, seemingly unharmed, with Joel following in much the same condition.

“We’re fine,” Tess breathed out as she approached you, leaning against the wall beside you. “It’s dead.”

“Are you alright?” Joel asked, his hand grasping on to your forearm, keeping you steady where you were shaking, holding yourself up against the rough surface of the wall. You nodded, breath still not able to properly filter out past the lump in your throat.

He knelt in front of you, hands reaching out and pulling the trouser leg up to see the full extent of your injury properly.

“Shit, kid,” he sighed out, looking up to Tess, “we’ve seen worse. We can manage.” He dropped the backpack where it was hung on his one shoulder, digging through it to tape some spare cloth around your injury, taping it around your ankle to keep it secure, too.

When he finally got you on your feet, silence lingering between all of you, he had to help you carry your own weight all the way back to your home in the QZ.

By the time you had managed to pick all the splinters out of your leg, Joel and Tess had gone to their beds, leaving you in the ‘living room,’ alone.

You felt sick, knowing you could have gotten all three of you killed today, just because you wanted a taste of the world that had long since decayed past anything worth wanting. Finally left on your own, the tears spilled past your eyelids, cleaving clean lines through the dirt and muck that caked your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but feel terrified, like you could still hear that damned creature coming for you. Like its footsteps echoed in your own home, right now.

With a fearful sob, you looked up to where you swore the sound come from, only to find Joel approaching, frown present on his face. His eyebrows were creased upwards, taking his expression from grumpy to worried.

Without a word from him, he came and sat beside you on the couch, wrapping the blanket that usually stayed firmly on the back of it around your shivering shoulders.

You clutched at it, wanting nothing more than to hide underneath it and pretend the entire day hadn’t happened — you wanted to forget the fear that shredded your veins, leaving your heart hammering. If you could just lose the entire memory of today, you would in a heartbeat, because the idea of leaving the QZ again with Joel and Tess made you feel sick.

Joel sighed, coming to kneel in front of you after you continuously avoided looking towards him. His hands reached out to your leg, the movement sending deja vu straight through you. He checked over your injury again, wrinkles caused by his frowning getting deeper. “You know it’s all okay, right?” He checked, finally, unsure what else to say in the quiet you usually tended to fill.

“It’s not o—okay, Joel,” you sobbed out, barely even breathing between your cries, “I al—almost got you and Tess kill—killed.”

“No, no, listen to me, kid. The… situation today was not your fault. Hear me? Not your fault. We thought it was safe, it wasn’t, that happens. We’re just glad you’re okay. Mostly.” He added on, nodding towards your bruised and bloodied leg.

“I tried so h—hard to be brave,” you continued, now even more hysterical as you thought of the way that thing approached you, how it could’ve killed any one of you had you made the slightest noise.

“I know,” Joel said, and he returned to your side at the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and squeezing it with his hand. “You were very brave, and I’m sorry you had to be.”

Part of Joel couldn’t help but feel like this was too much, too reminiscent of the daughter he’d lost. It made his head spin, even as he pulled you closer at the sound of your continuous cries, the way you could bring back that piece of him, the piece with some kind of humanity.

You didn’t have anybody else. All you had was Tess and Joel, and all he had was you and Tess, at least while his brother was out of town. This thing you had built, during the apocalypse and all, was a family.

“C’mon, kid,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his hand, “It’s alright. We’ll go out just to see the outside, next time. No risk of infected.”

“No, I—I don’t want to get you guys hurt again.” You responded, shaking your head and feeling your tears slow, remembering the pain that burned through your leg. You didn’t want to experience anything like today ever again, even if that meant staying inside the walls of the QZ for the rest of your life. “You didn’t even get what we went out for, because of me.”

His chest lurched, and he huffed a frustrated breath. “I don’t give one shit about that,” Joel said, leaving it to you to catch on to the end of that sentence that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say. I care about you.

You couldn’t tell him how you truly felt — like dead weight, a burden they couldn’t get rid of. You stayed with them, ate their food and used up their supplies, and now you were ruining the only way for them to get a decent income, too. It’d upset him, hearing you say that aloud. You knew it would.

“I just… I don’t want to end up alone.” You translated, the best you could do to tell him that you needed the two of them, for more than just the ability to survive they provided you with.

You knew they missed the old world, everybody who had lived before the outbreak did, as much as they tried not to think about it. It was a deep longing for something you would never know. While their world was gone, they were your world.

Joel’s arm squeezed you close, like all the words that refused to leave his lips could be heard that way.

In a way, it told you everything you needed to know.

Your eyes closed soon enough, and you missed the look that crossed Joel’s face, the warmth in his eyes that he never thought would return after the loss of his first daughter. And yet here it was, present and warm as ever, as he looked at where you’d fallen asleep resting against him.

[cy-cyborg]

It will never not be frustrating to me that amputees appear in fiction ALL. THE. TIME. and yet they're almost never acknowledged as such. The Cyberpunk genre is especially guilty of this: amputees and prosthetics becoming a normalised part of life are a defining part of the genre/aesthetic and yet no one even consults with any amputees about how we get represented there. Most writers in those genres don't even consider that giving your characters cybernetic arms and legs means they're an amputee.

CW: Ableism, dehumanisation

This makes it REALLY uncomfortable to engage with stories in the genre because another common aspect of cyberpunk is the idea of losing yourself and becoming something distinctly not-human anymore because you have too many cybernetic augmentations/implants. Shadowrun even has mechanics for this, which state if you get too many prosthetics, which is what cybernetics are 9 times out of 10, your character becomes a monster. These mechanics and discussions surrounding "how many robot bits make you not human anymore" are really, really uncomfortable when you remember this isn't something that's unique to a far-off future setting. Those people you're discussing the humanity of already exist. They're called amputees. If you reframe the question as "how many amputations can you have before you stop being a person" I hope you can see why an amputee like myself is not going to feel safe around you or in your fandoms.

And it's a shame, because I REALLY want to like Cyberpunk. I really, honestly do. I love the aesthetics, I love the idea of big corporations being the villains and the anti-capitalism at the heart of the genre, and I love the idea of prosthetics being not only destigmatised, but desirable. When written from a disability-inclusive lense, it honestly has the potential to be an incredibly uplifting and empowering genre. but as the genre stands right now, it's actively hostile to the very folks who are usually the stars of its stories: amputees, all because people just refuse to acknowledge us.

Cyberpunk isn't the only genre guilty of this, it's common all throughout sci-fi as a whole, but Cyberpunk is the only one where it starts becoming a serious issue due to its rampant dehumanisation of a real group of people. In other sci-fi settings, it's just kind of annoying and while it can be a form of erasure, it's not usually harmful, just...frustrating. Fantasy does it on occasion too, think pirates with a hook and a peg leg, but nowhere near as much.

If you, as an author or creator, use any of these words to describe a character or their tech in a sci-fi setting:

cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements

bionics

robot limbs

cyborgs

augmentations

You are probably writing an amputee. Please, at the very least, acknowledge it, and be mindful that those are real people who actually exist, not just a fantasy group you can speculate about.

edit:

I originally posted this article on my old Tumblr account and lot of people commented/reblogged to tell me that originally in cyberpunk, the "less human the more robot bits you have" only applied to people who opted for their limbs to be replaced by cybernetics, because it was seen as "renting out your body to corporations for money" but people who had to get cybernetics out of necessity weren't impacted. The thing is though, I really don't think that makes it better, for a few reasons. For one, where do you draw the line at "opting" to get a cybernetic prosthetic? This isn't a black and white thing, even in real life. Most amputations are done out of necessity, but there are situations where it's not the only option, just the best one. Talking from personal experience, I lost both my legs below the knee as a baby, that was a pretty clear cut case, I had a blood infection and gangrene and they had to act fast. But the infection caused lasting side effects and impacted my physical body's development and growth. By the time I got to my early 20's it was causing a lot of pain in my right leg, in my knee specifically, and when I got a bone infection in the end of that stump, I chose to have the whole thing amputated up to the knee. They only needed to take a few inches off the end of my stump, but I asked them to go higher, because of the ongoing issues in that knee, issues that would have been made worse by the shortening of the leg. I choose to remove the whole thing, knowing the joint was degrading and I probably would have lost it later in life anyway. Even if it was salvageable, it would mean much more surgery, and I've had enough of those. A boy I played wheelchair basketball with was born with a partially formed leg, it was half the size of his other leg and he wasn't able to use it al all, it was just dead weight, so he opted to get it amputated too for convenience and so he could use a prosthetic on that side. I worked with a girl who's hand didn't form properly in the womb, resulting in a normal palm, but tiny "finger nubs" (her words) with no bones inside. They weren't actively harming her usually, but she opted to get them and the top of her palm amputated after an incident at work where we were tying balloons and one of her nubs got stuck in the knot. She decided to get them amputated because it meant accidents like that would be less likely, and she could use a prosthetic more comfortably. All 3 of these are considered "optional" amputations, so would people like us be penalised in your setting? does it make sense that the technology in your setting can tell the difference, or that corporations would care about the how and why? Even stepping away from medical grey areas, if your character opts for a cybernetic arm because the corporations will financially reward her, and she's struggling to put food on the table without that help, is that really optional?

Don't get me wrong, I do think that idea could work but it would take a lot of work to do well, and most works I've seen don't do the work. Even if they did though, it doesn't change the fact that most modern uses of this trope don't mention that bit or actively ignore it. It doesn't matter in most cyberpunk works I've seen if the amputation was optional or out of necessity, they still are more prone to being seen as "less human" and in most of the sci-fi writing communities I've been part of, the authors are genuinely shocked when I ask them to remember "people with cybernetics are real people already, they're not some far-off-distant future fantasy group, they're just called amputees". Like it didn't even cross their minds. These are the people creating the works in this genre. Even if it wasn't the original intention of the genre, it's still an issue in the modern version of it. Edit 2: Elaborated a little more on why I don't think the "only people who choose it" argument works in the edit. Also, please stop telling me that old cyberpunk doesn't have this issue, I literally address that in the post lol.

[aroaceleovaldez]

i think a lot about how the more we learn about Hades as the series goes on, the more it informs his character in the first series and particularly highlights some of the major themes of the first series.

Hades is a god who has lost everything and is one of our most poignant examples of how the gods are incredibly, painfully subject to human emotions like loss and grief just as much as any mortal. He lost Maria, had to give up the di Angelo siblings, was forcibly kept away from Hazel by Gaea, Marie, and Zeus, and eventually lost Hazel and Marie as well. He spent three and a half years after Maria's death knowing Hazel was stuck with Gaea and being unable to do anything about it without Zeus killing her too, besides at best trying to send her warnings and encouragement from afar, and knowing she would inevitably die too. He essentially spends three years mourning his still living daughter because he can do nothing to save her. And after it's all over all he can do is try to give Hazel the best chance in the Underworld he can and wallow in his grief.

And he's immortal, so those 70-odd mortal years are nothing to him. Losing the di Angelos and Levesques is still recent to him. He's still freshly wounded enough to sic monsters after Thalia in revenge. And then right after he gets Nico and Bianca back, he loses Bianca truly this time.

And Hades and Nico's grief are parallels! They've lost the same family. They lash out with their pain and self-isolate, pushing people away. Hades constantly compares Nico to Bianca after Bianca's death and jabs at him. He hides in the Underworld and refuses to help or interact with the Olympians. And it's a direct parallel to Nico - To Nico, that grief is condensed too, because to him only 6 months have passed between his mother's death and Bianca's. He runs away and refuses to return to CHB after Bianca's death. He lashes out at Percy trying to help. Hades and Nico are the only ones each other have left but they're too absorbed in their pain to acknowledge that. It isn't until Nico starts healing from losing Bianca at the end of BoTL that we see a shift - Nico isn't self-isolating anymore, he's sorting himself out and finding his own path. He seeks others out at his own pace - finding Camp Jupiter, visiting Percy. He's stopped lashing out. But Hades still hasn't, and it isn't until TLO that Nico calls him out on that very behavior. The Olympians are his family, he is Hades' family, and Hades is too busy focusing on what he lost to stop shutting out the family he still has left. And at the end of TLO and into HoO we see Hades finally make the same shift Nico did - he's embracing his family, he's stopped pushing them away, heck he's even getting out of the house more. But we still see even more parallels between him and Nico in how they cope with loss - we know that Hades was told he couldn't revive Maria. But when Nico goes to search for Bianca to revive her, it's heavily implied Hades intentionally allowed Nico to revive Hazel. Hades orchestrated the revival of his daughter because both Nico and Hades are still holding on to what they lost.

The core of Hades' character in PJO is that the god of the dead is mourning. And I find that so fascinating.

[abbyromanoff]

FOOLISH ONE

PAIRINGS: Carol Danvers x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,879

WARNINGS: smut, dark!Carol, kidnapping, mentions of insanity, use of Daddy (sexual/non-sexual use), pet play (sexual/non-sexual), drugging, alien!R, collars, piercings, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

It’s been days now and nothing but silence has greeted you. You were locked away in a secluded room, it was meant for your safety, as the unknown voice would say. The person, who you guessed was an older woman, would occasionally stop by to drop off food. You never got a good look at her, only spending your time pleading to be freed, insisting people would look for you. But when you really got to thinking, you realized your statement was most likely wrong. Who were you kidding, nobody cared about you, nobody had even spared a glance in your direction.

It was a horrid thought, but throughout the days, you started feeling more content with where you were. The thought of death scared you, but if the woman wanted to kill you, she would’ve already. You heard her murmur the reasons why she took you on the first day when she went over the rules, but sadly your eyes were covered by a blindfold, forcing you to make up an imaginary woman behind the voice.

She stated how she had been watching you for a while now and just couldn’t hold back anymore. Someone noticed you, was all that ran through your head. She noticed you and she wanted you, who could think such a thing. You weren’t…normal. You had green skin and pointy ears, any human, you guessed she was human, would throw you away and call you a freak. You were rather innocent compared to your peers, you grew up lacking the knowledge of most and being forced into shelter by your parents. So once you stepped into the real world, there was no hope for you. People would chuckle at your cluelessness, and you’d be left embarrassed and ashamed of yourself. You just wanted to be like everyone else, was that so much to ask for?

“Here’s your breakfast, honey. Make sure you eat this time, alright?” You started off refusing her meals and drinks in hopes it would get you out of this mess, but you gave up once the hunger started settling in. You should’ve seen the smile on her face when watching you through the cameras.

“T-thank you, ma’am.” You stood up on shaky legs and took the plate through the small window at your stomachline. You didn’t know how long this would continue, but you just wanted something to do. Your days were filled with your eyes staring at a blank void, dreaming of the sun that you never thought you’d miss so much. Maybe she’d let you go out someday, maybe she’d finally set you free.

“Wait!” You called when noticing that she was about to shut the small window. It was your only source of light and it was the most peaceful thing you’ve seen in what felt like years.

“Uhm, can you leave that open? I- I like the light, I’ve been starting to feel a little weak.” She didn’t speak a word, only doing as you asked and leaving you to let out a grateful sigh. She grinned to herself before walking towards the bathroom, grabbing two sets of pills and a glass of water.

She returned moments later as you ate the plate of eggs hungrily, nearly leaving you coughing from the dryness. She wasn’t the best cook, but at least you got to eat. You’ve heard thousands of horror stories from your parents in which kidnappers would starve their victims until they were skin and bone, you couldn’t be ungrateful here.

“Here you go, love, this will help you feel better.” She slipped through the small antibiotics and bottled water, already being able to sense your hesitance through the door.

“You’re not forced to take them, but I suggest if you’d like to feel better, that you do.” You nodded slowly and placed them next to your food, planning to let your full stomach rest before taking them. But, soon enough, you swallowed the pills with a large gulp, almost instantly feeling a wave of anxiety doing so. In horror movies, you never trust the killer, she was the killer in this case. God, you were so stupid. No wonder why everyone repeated those words in your face your whole life.

Only a few minutes later you were feeling woozy, your head starting to spin as your eyes fluttered shut constantly. You were breaking the barrier of pure exhaustion when you heard a door creak open. You tried opening your eyes, wanting to finally catch a glance at the woman who’d been holding you captive, but you were unable to as you fell into a deep state of unconsciousness.

“There you go, baby.”

You woke to a collar tightening around your neck, the sound of a small chain being heard in the background. You fluttered your eyes open before they went wide as you saw the beauty standing in front of you. She smiled down at you when noticing your now awakened figure.

“Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” She ruffled your hair lightly and, if you weren’t currently held bound by your hands and legs, then you would’ve sunk into the feeling. She took recognition of your nervousness, stroking your cheek gently in a silent reassurance.

“Awh, don’t be scared, Daddy’s here.” You took in all of her, glancing up and down at her features. Your line of sight stopped below her belt as you spotted a small bulge hidden beneath her pants. She was packing.

“Such a naughty pup, didn’t you ever get taught some manners, huh?” You gulped fearfully and she chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before tugging you forward.

“Hm, I guess not. Don’t worry, Daddy will teach you everything you need to know.” You were forced to follow her without hope, desperately reaching for something to hold onto as you tripped.

“God, you can’t do anything.” She groaned out tiredly. She knew she had lots of work to do in order to teach you, but she was willing to do anything.

“Where are we going?” You asked timidly, being cautious of every word you spoke and every move you made.

“Outside. I know I’ve been neglecting you of the sun for some time now, and I’m so very sorry, but you had to learn. Now, if you’re a good girl, this could be an often occurrence. But if not…” She trailed off, and you took it as an opportunity for you to fill her words.

“I go back to the darkroom?” You hoped that’s what she wanted to hear. But the smile forming on her face convinced you that you were right and calmed your nerves slightly.

“That’s right! See, you’re already doing so well, puppy.” You had a short time to register the praise before the harsh beams of light hit your now-lightened skin. You were normally a considerably darker shade of green, now you were a sea green with purplish bags under your eyes.

“Uhm, Miss?” You called, trying to catch her attention without being forced to use the humiliating nickname.

“That’s not how you direct me.” She sternly retorted, refusing to take her eyes away from her book. You were starting to form goosebumps from the chilly weather, your body lacking a normal amount of clothing as you were forced to wear a small bra and panties. You wanted to ask, but you wanted to save your sanity at the same time. What would be better, you didn’t know.

“Sorry…Daddy,” It was a low mumble, but it was enough for her to hear you. She suddenly gazed into your eyes with a glance that told you to continue. She would work on your voice level another time, for now, she wanted to see what you so desperately needed.

“I-I’m getting really cold, is there any chance we could go inside? Please?” She hummed before standing abruptly, stalking towards your coward-down form.

“Learning your manners already, I see.” She leaned down, her knees folding as she groaned in slight pain. Her fingers came to your cheek before dragging a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Her eyes bored into yours, normally you’d look away in embarrassment, but with her, it was as if you were searching for something more.

“I can already tell you’re going to be the best, most obedient little puppy I could ever ask for. I knew I picked right with you.” You leaned into her touch as she stroked your skin, her features gleaming as she admired the green. Your ears perked up at the attention and she chuckled, kissing your forehead softly before grasping your hand and pulling you up. She lifted you into her arms as if you weighed nothing and you quickly wrapped your legs around her waist.

Inside you were placed gently onto the warm bed she had been sleeping in. You were almost jealous that she got to lay in this while you suffered in the dark, cold room for days at a time.

“Alright, your bath is all set, pup.” She guided you with her, letting you step in after she removed your few clothing. You were given small toy ducks and a tiny boat to play with, all while the bubbles filled the tub.

You played with the small toys, giggling to yourself as you made the boat sink and return back to the surface. Carol would occasionally splash you with a few droplets of water before you did the same, causing her shirt to adorn wet stains. She had a small cup where she’d pour the same water onto your head to wash out any soap until you were finally done.

Suddenly, you felt a small tug on your nipples. You looked up quickly, a gasp escaping your lips while she stared at the perky skin.

“You’d look so cute with nipple piercings, ya’ think?” You gulped nervously, already imagining the amount of pain you’d have to go through just to satisfy her curiosity.

“Maybe you can have little bells on ‘em so Daddy knows where you are at all times.” She pinched the hardened nerves, running her tongue against them and bringing shivers to your spine.

“D-do I have a choice?” She threw her head back humorously, laughing to herself as you bit your lip. You stared up at her with pleading eyes, hoping you’d be left off for just this once.

“Oh, puppy, of course, you do! You can comply to everything I say like a good little mutt, or you can endorse a punishment like a bad, bad pup.” You eyed the cage in the corner of the room, already feeling the harsh metal aching on your skin. You imagined the pain it would cause to your sensitive bones.

“So, you choose: would you like to be Daddy’s good girl and listen, or would you like to be a naughty baby, hm?” You shook your head with a sniffle, blinking away the tears that she helped to wipe away. She grinned when noticing your sadness, it seemed to thrill her to a great extent.

“I’ll be good, Daddy, I will. Please don’t put me back in the room, I want to stay with you!” She hummed in response, stroking your cheek before smacking it lightly.

“That’s what I thought, puppy.”

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist. 

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling. 

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you. 

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression. 

“What was that?” 

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly. 

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice. 

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him. 

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement. 

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion. 

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself. 

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table. 

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same. 

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it. 

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery. 

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that. 

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor. 

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend. 

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery. 

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind. 

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself. 

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues. 

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things. 

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder. 

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students. 

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!” 

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye. 

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less. 

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it. 

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since. 

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases. 

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it. 

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.” 

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.” 

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.” 

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different. 

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him. 

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout. 

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s. 

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it. 

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him. 

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly. 

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.” 

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal. 

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie. 

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles. 

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed. 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins. 

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist. 

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace. 

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.” 

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes. 

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously. 

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother. 

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

[darlingpwease]

I wonder if Can you write Yandere Omega Seth (from Ennead) if you okay with it

I'll find you

hide as much as you can // I'll find you

♡ fictional mythology, unhealthy behaviour, lovehate dynamic (love -> lovehate), animalistic behaviour, pet names, power exchange, mention of bloodletting (seth), hints of incestuous relationships?; beta!reader -> alpha!reader, heqet/khnum!reader implied

♡ rough treatment, mild blood kink, mild scent kink, heavy petting, dubious consent -> consensual, unprotected sex / breeding, bondage by sand, power imbalance -> power exchange; word 'womb' used once for Seth

𓂀 Contacting this omega is not the best solution — you realized when you first met him, while coming out of the Nile, the keeper of the floods of which you were.

Of course, it's not that you were obliged to communicate with any of them or even be interested in your distant relatives, who were no more than the seventh water on the jelly, but you needed to come out of the depths of the Nile at least from time to time — and when you finally come out, for the first time you meet an unusually red shade, burning like a torch against the background of burning golden sand and the sky blue as the waters of the Nile.

He was like a creature that was born from the spilled blood of all the fallen warriors who did not find their way home, but took refuge in your waters, sprinkling your waters over and over again until the river turns red like the sunset.

His name was 'SETH', he was the god of war and the desert, his parents were Geb and Nut — and when your gaze first crossed, it was as if you were hit on the head with something; almost a low cry of 'YOU WERE NOTICED' so loud that if you were human, you would turn away and run away, — under the sand, under the ground, under the water, no matter where, — but you are not a human and, even if you were weaker than him, you would not run away.

After all, who is the 'God of War and the Desert' against the Deity who keeps the Nile?

“Don't you dare look at me like that anymore.”

wolf cub.

You can guess that his behavior is probably an attempt to attract, as a fertile young omega provokes a fertile young alpha to get angry and chase after him, showing everything they can, just to prove that they are good enough to fill the womb. You know all this. After all, you were the one who created the figures of people who were illuminated by Ra, and you were more than able to watch these playtimes when the lovers went too far in their games and fell together into the coastal waters after a long chase.

And you more than know the brilliance of those eyes — and react faster than realize, like water, which acts intuitively, not relying on reason, to survive. They say that betas have a stronger intuition with understanding of the world — it's not for nothing that you are one of those gods who prefer maximum detachment, 'spirituality', achieved through refusing to accept the role of omega or alpha.

And you let your instincts dictate.

Before his cheeky mouth has time to say anything, you just have to make a wave so that the waters of the Nile aim at him like a beast that has found prey — and break against a strong, slender figure, without causing severe pain, but forcing him to take steps back, no longer bursting into your space.

SETH'S hair, dripping and darkened from the water, sticks to body — but before he has time to resist you in any way, calling to himself the sands of the desert, submissive to him like a tamed pet, you dissolve into the water, returning to your native current...

“I'll find you!”

... The waters of the Nile easily take you into themselves as a natural part, hiding you from the outside world, dissolving like everything that falls into the water abyss and stays here; it's not for nothing that people say that it was water that gave birth to life, and that water is necessary for life.

And although you are not a water Deity, you are also worth something.

𓂀 You know that this is not Ra — although the method of summoning is the same, Ra would rather strangle herself than summon you, especially so soon after the last arrival. Even if you had a... good relationship, — you both contributed to the appearance of 'humans' — it was obvious that you were still different.

Your clay figurines needed a bright fire to come to life, just as she craved worship and followers — it was an interchange where mortals became what brought you closer and pushed you away from each other.

However, SETH was looking for you for other reasons, quite different from 'worshippers'.

Although you are used to being summoned in other ways, such as sacrifices and festivals, you must admit that you clearly underestimated the son of Nut and Geb, who were no better than any of them — but at least they were smart enough not to try to find out from Ra a way to summon you without having to wait at Nila.

Because more than herself and power, Ra loved only to have fun — and sometimes you wondered if she was looking for power just to have fun.

“... Heh.”

When he looks down at you, like a child who has found a gift hidden from him, his scarlet lips stretch in a cheeky smile.

If most gods and goddesses somehow have more alpha and omega traits, then SETH looks like there are too many of these traits in him, like an omega-like alpha or alpha-like omega than beta.

“It turns out that this is the only way you can be summoned? I thought to the last that she was lying...”

The scarlet spot spreads across the water surface of the unusually calm Nile, dissolving in the streams of water that carry the particles with them, absorbing a new part of itself into its course. If people knew how much Nile water contains particles of their children, parents, friends, spouses, enemies, detractors, traitors — would they drink it?

If they knew that the same water absorbs the blood of the gods they worship, what would they look like, scooping up water like the purest gold — the same as he controls, the God of the Desert, smelling of sand dust, dry grass and heat?

“I don't care. You're here, so it was worth it.”

You don't think that the blood of God should be used for such things, like simply calling you from the river bottom, but don't say anything, giving someone to continue — and SETH continues without hearing an answer.

And although he, in fact, created a trap for you, filling the entire stone floor with his sand to make sure that you don't run away anywhere, you feel more like in the paws of a small puppy than in the cave of a mature wolf.

Wasn't it really an exaggeration to be afraid of him?

... Apparently, you have been under water for so long, absorbing the blood of warriors and animals, that you have become too sensitive to any danger...

“I promised you I'd find you.”

𓂀 SETH smells of freedom — not the freedom that has no limits or restrictions, only dead bodies that float along the Nile can have such freedom, but the freedom that is like the hot breath of the desert during the day and the icy whisper of the desert at night; it smells of heat, dry grass, the blood of soldiers and treasures captured with the help of weapons.

You pretend that you don't notice when treasures fall to the bottom of the Nile, and that, moreover, don't understand who gives you them; but it's hard for you to deny that you don't like the look of them. After all, the Nile is not just a 'river' or 'your home', but your temple and refuge, and the sight of expensive and precious things sheltering the once bare, dreary bottom undoubtedly improves the view and your mood; especially when the current of the river carries you further, and gold, like a lighthouse, shines; sprinkling the dark bottom is like the moon shining on the darkest desert night.

SETH is hot and fervent, like burning blood flowing out of him until you hand an object that can immediately contact you, instead of flooding waters, as if out of spite spending more than really needed, as if the more blood, the faster you will rise to the surface.

(in a sense, it is, but for other reasons...)

You can understand that this relationship is frowned upon, at least by his brother, but there's not much you can do — the waters of the Nile are all-encompassing and almost omnipresent, and the way SETH regularly calls you is almost charming if it wasn't so intense, as if every time he struggles with himself in the desire to devour you or to drag away, but at the same time I have to give up this need, which is close to the human need to drink water. You don't need to ask him about it to know — the way he looks at you, as if wanting to sink his teeth into your skin and take you to his cave, is more than eloquent, and even the way his smell intensifies, silently shouting that he is a strong, healthy and fertile omega, in itself is an obvious sign.

And the fact that you are just as quiet and calm, like serene dark waters, untouched by gusts of sandy wind, only further inflames his burning passion and desire, which he himself cannot describe in any way except as 'mine'.

Mine.

Mine mine mine — you give life, carry life, no matter in a running stream or standing water, watching as the surface is filled with bodies and blood, dirt and tears, bodies entwined in passion and love embraces. It doesn't matter — everything will be dissolved in your current and carried away until it becomes no more than another drop in billions of the same, carrying information that only you know.

SETH, on the other hand, carries with him the smell of something wild, giving life, — but also ruthlessly taking it for himself, strewing everything with the red-hot gold of the desert, which becomes more and more every time you rise, noticing how the waters that used to caress the fertile lands now nourish the sand.

And you know what will happen next — SETH has never been a secretive type, even if his method of hunting was closer to big cats hiding until they get close enough to bite into the throat and gnaw, taking them to their hideout. SETH is the same cat — big, red and strong, smelling of mature omega when he notices that you are more responsive to this fragrance.

SETH is not at all deeply interested in the topic of "let's mate" — are you sure that he is attracted not at all to your physical data or smell, but to how comfortable and safe he is next to you, letting him finally relax, looking for comfort in your waters, and that if he decided that you would be his, then you will be his.

He will always find you.

𓂀 SETH is persistent, stubborn and aggressive. Even if his emotions are a sphere that is easy to push and cause pain, you understand perfectly well that he is the god who will break rather than bend.

But when he asks you what happens to the bodies of those soldiers that he led to war, when they find themselves in the Nile, like bags full of blood, breathing and thinking recently, at first you don't know what to answer — not because you can't share his silent pain, looking like a scorpion that suddenly bared you have a soft vulnerable tummy, but because you have nothing to answer.

What happens to the bodies? The Nile absorbs them — everything that was dumped into the waters finds itself in the stomachs of animals or in water particles, carrying with it such an amount of memory that nothing else can contain.

“... If I die one day, will you promise that my memory will be preserved in your waters?”

You no longer know if you are talking about the waters of the Nile or something else — but you know that you will probably never find SETH like this again.

Unusually fragile, as if really an ordinary omega who just wants to have a family, a common nest and puppies. To have you as an alpha, to be in the same nest with you and to have children together.

What can you say other than consent? No matter what happens, he will always remain in your memory — as a special memory that will never be erased.

“... Thank you. I'll never forget you either. And I won't let go.”

His eyes are burning just like the sunset on the background.

“We'll be together. Always. Because I chose you and I won't let you go.”

𓂀 His power becomes stronger, and when you meet him again, you have nothing to oppose when the sand from the land and the bottom rises to grab you.

Undoubtedly, it wasn't something that you 'didn't expect' — SETH was never the type who tried to hide what intentions he had if he saw that it would affect your attitude, and even if he found comfort in your touches and hugs, covering him like a blanket from the whole world, he never had this safe habit of 'being content with little'. His intentions were obvious from the first meeting and did not change at all — you were perfect, from head to toe, the only one with whom he would like to spend one heat and then make you spend thousands more, finally feeling complete, finished.

He, the god of the Desert and War, with you, Deity of the Nile flood — is not the best couple that can be?

'No'?

... Ha, does someone think that things like "imperfect couple" or "more worthy" or "more accessible" or "morally wrong" or something else will stop him?

Does he need permission? If he wants it — he will get it. And nothing can stop him.

Even if you are a beta, you smell fertile, pleasant, sweet — you smell of life, sex, from which children are born, absorbing the spilled blood and creating from it what brings birth and fertility, and SETH has always been more than gambling and ready to put everything on the line.

And you knew it.

Even if you are safe in the water, once you get out, nothing can save you — especially when you step on the sand, which immediately becomes your cage, locking you in. The waters immediately splash out of the Nile, crushing on him, but now SETH moves only a couple of steps, becoming much more powerful — and when palms grab by the wrists while teeth close on neck, everything inside you starts screaming again that you need to run right now.

Now the sand turns out to be decorated with spots of the deity's blood.

His mark pulsates on never-marked neck — and although it is not the same among deities as among people, you clearly see that for him it was not at all 'just a bite' or a 'mating mark', but a sign of possession, while the pupils in the blood-red iris, the shade of red-hot metal, expand, and a nimble pink tongue licks the blood from scarlet lips.

Red.

RED RED RED.

Nails are no worse than the claws of a wolf, and even fangs look like they can easily tear apart a dozen other people who decide to intervene.

The sand squeezes your feet so tightly that you can't even twitch.

This is all completely wrong.

You cowardly escape into the waters — betas are not capable of mating, are not created for this, closer to 'asexual beings' who do not have a biological task in the form of giving birth, much closer to the primordial asexual matter than to the omegas and alphas giving birth, but for some reason a mark with an imprint burns on his neck which didn't exist before.

Was it you? Or was it the part of you that you denied? You didn't know. It is easier to plunge into the native waters than to try to figure out why for the first time its fragrance was so dizzying, or why you went for something like this. You're not like that at all — not like that at all. It's not normal.

But you'll have to get out soon anyway.

You don't want your omega to get hurt while calling you, right, alpha?

Interlude

“I'm surprised you decided to step in anyway, dear.”

When the sand almost gently wraps around your hands, you realize that the biggest stupidity you can do is to try to escape.

Even if there is water in things like vases in the room, this is too little to create the necessary amount — and even to make sand soft and heavy, such a meager amount is not enough, except to pour it on him and break a vase on this face.

“Wasn't it you who liked to be constantly huddled in your little shell? Hiding there from any danger and thinking that it will help you?”

His hands are not the same as before — slightly rough, wide palms that easily slide over your cool skin, leaving warm traces, slightly scratching with sharp nails, as if hinting that you should not do rash things; if he did not smell like a blooming omega, you would think that he was alpha or alpha-like beta.

“But it turns out that if it's not me, but someone else, then you're ready to help them! No matter how much blood I shed, you didn't come out — but as soon as it was Isis, you immediately got out to help.”

His mark on your neck has not been pulsating for a long time, but when his fingers touch your neck, he freezes for a moment, assessing the scar left, which is almost impossible to notice — and from something, your body again feels this soreness, fettering for a moment from the realization of what happened before the brain began to work feverishly.

Then.

Now you are experiencing phantom pain until you realize that it is not 'phantom' — SETH shamelessly licks your blood from his fingers when he realizes that he scratched the old mark.

“This is wrong.”

Even when blood drips down from the shoulder, you know that's not what you need to worry about — his body is hot as the desert during the day, especially when his hips easily sit on top of yours, taking care that the sand does not let go of your hands.

“I promised you I'd always be there for you; although it was you who avoided me all these years, not appearing even when the corpses filled the entire Nile, while the other gods were terrified of what was happening — but I understand. A lot to do, yes? You've always been busy and strict, ever since our first meeting, when you doused me like some kind of animal.”

The thick scent of omega is so strong that you are not sure if it smells from him or if it is something else — the same thing that made you bite his neck then; your bite is also still burning on his skin, although it looks much more noticeable on him, although you are sure that you bit weaker than him.

The sweet bloody fragrance makes you dizzy.

“And when I saw you, I realized that you didn't live well either; after all, who but me could take care of a hermit like you?”

His hands, in spite of everything, are omeganine soft and pleasant, even if he uses them to look even more wrongly charming, as if he did not sneak into your bedroom — in which you were definitely expecting this meeting — to "talk heart to heart" while his hot wet slippery thighs touch your hips,

obviously.

“I was doing the wrong thing. I gave you the 'right to choose', thinking that this is what lovers should do — but, you know, people around me explained to me what I did wrong. By own example. And I'm ready to show you what I should have done back then, instead of this idiotic thought that you'd think it over and make a nest with me...”

He purrs — deep in his throat, like a big cat, when a strong flexible hand gently rests on your chest while the second one uses the surface behind as a support, rubs against your thighs, leaving sticky wet traces of juice on your bare skin, from touching which your skin burns, and you don't look at him, making sure not to do anything you might regret,

“Look at your omega.”

but it's hard to do when his hand moves from your chest to your throat, not squeezing, but feeling quite threatening, even if you are sure that it will not cause any harm.

“Don't you dare take your eyes off me or I'll scratch them out. You can only look at me and see only me. No one else and nothing else.”

The way he hovers feels almost the same as when he was able to summon you for the first time — his hair hangs down freely, like the flames of candles burning around you, and the same abnormally bright glow burns in his eyes, like the eyes of a cat. Or a wolf.

An abandoned, starved wolf.

“... Like I said, no one cares about you but me — you can fight this idea all you want, but we both know it's true.”

It's wet, wet, hot, sticky, tight between SETH'S thighs — you didn't consider yourself a 'virgin', but when the smell gets stronger and sharper, even you need time to get rid of the veil of excitement that covers eyes in the basest way, looking at his strong thighs while red hair falls over his shoulders, revealing a view of the most handsome omega in your life.

“Therefore...”

His lips are scarlet, thin, beautiful, and when he bends over you, you can't feel the inarticulate delight and the misunderstanding that follows it, associated with the simultaneous desire to pull away from repeated unusual stimulation and the desire to take this stimulation, grab by the hair and breed until it becomes clear that you will need a joint nest, in which he will keep the puppies while you fill him again and again.

Over and over, until his belly is rounded.

This is wrong.

His legs are slender and strong, ideal so that you don't have to do anything while SETH is able to at least move his knees — but you are sure that if you just wrap your hands around his hips and squeeze, you will get much more pleasure and delight, hammering into him with the basest this is wrong in a way.

It's the smell of omega. Definitely the smell of omega.

You yourself can't feel like this for him — for omega, who first marked you, then pursued you for many years and now, finally getting a chance, immediately pounced like an overexcited wolf, to such an extent that you can see the juice flowing down his thighs, although you are sure that even he does not realize it himself, considering it nothing more than a 'punishment'.

“... let me take care of–”

Of course you will.

Everything happens in the blink of an eye — the water, the sand, astonished expression on his face and how it takes you no more than a couple of minutes to find yourself in a deliciously tight heat, from which his claws immediately scratch your hands holding him on his back until it bleed, but nothing in him tries to escape, even if SETH growls mixed with purring, choking on words as you snuggle tighter, allowing something more animal, dirty to take control.

You smell of life, passion, sex — 'the very sex from which children are born', the very life that gave rise to mortals, and you know that you have something to fill this womb with.

When his cheeks are covered with a bright blush, reminiscent of the shade of his eyes and hair; you can't help but reach out to burrow into his neck, not caring about the sand that is wrapped around your ankle — and not caring about the aggressive imperiousness with which SETH squeezes you while sharp fangs bite your lips almost to the point of blood, greedily kissing, almost devouring.

If you leave me again, I'll find you and kill you.

[specialagentlokitty]

Paul LaHote x reader - our pasts

Hi!!! Could I please request a paul lahote x reader (platonic or romantic) where paul accidentally sees reader's back and it's v scarred (like lashes) with reader saying something along the lines of "i got out" thanks!!! - Anon💜

TW: mentions of past abuse

You weren’t one to tell people about your past, people had secrets, and you preferred to keep yours to yourself.

You lived on the edge of the reserve, sometimes you helped the pack out, sometimes you just stayed by yourself.

They didn’t mind a human living on the edge of their home, you were polite and respectful, and you helped them with whatever they needed, be it medical care, or calming them down, or helping them plan things.

You were basically part of the pack regardless even if Sam refused to admit that a human was part of the pack.

And being Paul’s imprint helped a lot with this, though he wanted to be more than friends, he was just happy with being with you, even if you declined every attempt he made to ask you out.

And that’s where he was heading today.

He wanted to see you, so he ran down the long stretch of road to your home, listening carefully to see if you were about or not.

“(Y/N)?!” He called.

Paul slowed his run to a walk, and he carefully looked around, finding a pile of wood and other things in front of your home, he walked over.

Jumping up on the pile, Paul searched around before hearing something on the otherside, so he walked along it.

That’s where he found you.

Crouched down, doing something with some papers.

He crouched down, going to tap your shoulder and he stopped when he noticed something odd about you.

Aside from the fact you were wearing a vest instead of your usual hoodie.

The vest had risen up to show your lower back, and along it going down were large scars.

“(Y/N)?” He asked.

“Paul.”

You replied.

You held up some papers and he took them, then held out his hand so you could stand up.

You turned around to look at him and smiled a little, taking the papers back as you began to go through them.

“What happened to your back?”

You didn’t bother to look up from your papers.

“It was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Who hurt you?” He growled a little.

You sighed, setting the papers next to him, and you reached out, placing your hand on his knee, and he sat down.

Paul looked at you and you gave his knee a pat before you took your hand away.

“It doesn’t matter, because they’re not in my life anymore.”

“Well it matters to me.” He snapped.

You shrugged a little bit.

“Things happen Paul, things we can’t control.”

“Let me see.”

You nodded and turned around, lifting the back of your shirt for him, and he jumped down, carefully inspecting the scars.

The only way he could describe them was lashes, like you had something brought down upon your back again and again.

You heard him breathing heavily and you turned around, letting the vest cover your back again.

He was trembling with anger.

He always got angry when you got hurt, he couldn’t help it.

Reaching out, you placed your hand on his arm and looked up at him, giving him a gentle smile.

Paul placed his hand over yours.

“Breathe Paul.”

“What happened?” He asked again.

“We can’t control much when we’re young, and I suppose we can’t sit and dwell on the past either, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we let it do to us Paul.”

You gave another small smile and shrug.

“I got out. It took some time, and I thought I never would, but I got out Paul. I’m okay.”

You hugged him gently, and he hugged you tightly, holding you close towards him.

All he wanted to do was protect you, keep you safe, and now he had even more of a reason to do so.

Yes, he had unpredictability when it came to his anger and most of the time it got the best of him, but he could never get angry with you, or hurt you.

So whatever or whoever had done this to you, if he ever saw them he swore to himself he would rip them apart

[chocmoon-latte]

"Hancock has no regrets about becoming a ghoul"??

It baffles me when some people think Hancock has zero regrets about becoming a ghoul. Absolutely none at all apparently. Like yeah, he plays it up when you first meet him before he's a companion, but let's be real he plays up pretty much everything in regards to the whole "sexy king of the zombies" image he projects.

It takes travelling with you away from Goodneighbor to give him some time to be introspective for him to finally realize that him becoming a ghoul was just another escape route from himself again. He's got several lines of dialogue that literally reiterate this. It's a key point of his character:

Hell, running from myself is what made me into… into a damn Ghoul.

Well, I mean, I didn't always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a Ghoul, I knew what it was going to do.

I just couldn't stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore.

The coward who'd let all those Ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys.

If I took it, I'd never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I'd be free. Didn't seem like a choice at all. Turns out it was just me running from somethin' else in my life.

I mean, after reaching max affinity with you, he realizes that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all (because he's finally got an honest friend he can be open with now). He now feels comfortable where he is - but to imply that he doesn't have at least the tiniest amount of regret? Heck, if you go onto romance him (or attempt to), he stops referring to himself as handsome and literally starts calling himself ugly, which naturally goes entirely against the image he projects:

Why don't we just agree to keep it friendly for now or till they find a cure for ugly? Heh.

You don't want to wake up to this mug every morning. Never wish that on anyone I cared for.

You sure you want to be stuck with this ugly mug?

(You could even say he implies it beforehand with another line of dialogue elsewhere in-game when he says "I'd be mad too if I was that ugly." But that's a stretch I guess.)

Combine that with the fact that 99% of ghouls don’t choose to become ghouls. Hancock did. But he didn't do it for a fun experience. He was already in a bad place when he became a ghoul. He didn't turn to be cool and edgy like he pretended he did when first getting to know him.

He lost his appearance, any connections to his old identity and old friends/people he might’ve been associated with (for better or worse), and in return gained hostility from bigots towards him for merely existing, from an overwhelming majority of the Commonwealth population that hates ghouls. There's the Institute and Brotherhood who want to kill anyone like him on top of that. Plenty of people out there who think he and other ghouls are monsters for just being alive.

Not only that, but something which adds onto this is the fact that he's a client of the Memory Den, and they're very selective with their customers. And what's the whole point of the Memory Den? Reliving past memories. Irma's terminal entry about Hancock, as well as the other two ghoul clients Kent and Daisy, all imply the memories they go back to relive are primarily from their human days. (The one on Hancock straight up says "if you thought he was handsome and dangerous now, you should've seen him before he turned ghoul.")

I genuinely refuse to believe that Hancock has never had any regret whatsoever about becoming a ghoul. The man who's spent a decent chunk of his life running from his own problems instead of confronting them, has NO regrets about taking a drug that alters his entire being and functionality on a biological level and will force him to outlive everyone he knows? This man is FULL of regrets!