#and how its all become so warped this season

[odesofmeddea]

i find it tragic and fascinating how sam's narrative is so rife with representations of confinement. of failed or rejected attempts to actually get away. as much as there is a need for individuation there is concurrently an utter terror at being let loose, the terror that comes at once that the individuation is permit. in season i, the scarecrow, we glimpse a pageant of both dean and sam's agony because it's the first time that dean tells him to go if he wants so, and the focus here is on how sam concaves in situations of such release. he crawls back happily. then he invariably tells dean, again, that he has to let him go once this is over... but then sam stays. when dean, through all his miseries, manages to let him be at the beginning of season v, sam is instantly awestruck, near nonmotile, ‘i was expecting a fight’, because he is so used to being forced back in, to being loved like this - through forms of compulsion, coercion and captivity. he is also used to these conditions being the only plausible safety that preserves him via its isolating modi operandi. so whenever he walks away, he is still not exempt. leaving with ruby, he aches to reconcile with dean, after. he brings up his brother on a date with the coworker-girl telling about his regrets, he calls dean at night, asking to be taken back. and it is copacetic in a way that the narrative warps sam to the point where he is defensive and greedy for love that, having forced him to renege his sovereignty, monopolized itself in his life.

first sam can't go back to stanford - his life is a locus of ecumenical violence, his body a site of appropriation, and yet, in all his impurity (since he deems himself impure and abject), dean is still there, loving, preserving, persevering. then he can't go back to the normal world because the family business (secret) takes away sam's tongue to the point where he no longer can communicate himself nor his trauma into the ambiance he now is completely alienated from. he is confined. he gives up, he lets himself to get eaten. the only thing he has is his brother who can't talk, toward whom all ends of his life invariably resile; dean representing the only support constancy to sam is simultaneously a representation of willed stasis - he no longer evolves outside of his brother, he convolutes into and about him. when you center your life around someone that much, they become the crux of your sense of self, they become the fulcrum of your good or bad self-perception… when lilith kills dean, the world ends. he is changed, ghastly, he is a man arage, a heathcliff bereft of his cathy - the personal transmutation is still a lot about brother, is still spurred by deanlessness. even the confirmation of sam's reality, later, gets centered around him - through the palm-wound dean sewed and reopened, unmade into the site of verity: if dean was here, in this wound, this is real. if dean trusts me, if i hadn't let him down again, then i'm whole, redeemable.

sam, now, is unwilling to leave. he long entered this limen of altered consciousness that is the result of the psychological duress he grew up in, along with the exacerbation of trauma that ensued once dean pulled him back into the vortex of the family loop. he gets domesticated - not that he wasn't by the fact of birth into this house - in the intergenerational mentality and trauma, many a time he goes through the identification with his father (prior: aggressor) whose obsessiveness he espouses. which is ourobóros because john could only execute and interpret love as an incarceration - dean tells lisa how he would cloister them when they were kids which is another form of perpetuated captivity resulting in complete dependency and disconnection from society. it is something you can't walk out and away from. when sam tells so to the hallucination of his child-self, while locked by dean in the cage: ‘we were never gonna get away’, he assumes his heritage and, too, cannot let go. gabriel tries to teach him the lesson on letting dean go but it is quite late for sam to either learn or want it. he just keeps pleading, like a homeless dog: please, please, bring him back, because homelessness is freedom and freedom means a world without dean. it happens to be a harrowing one.

in some episode when dean leaves with crowley but without him, sam gets drunk and cries about it to bobby. literally. when dean comes back, he locks him in the bathroom. it is also the same episode which crowley calls him dean's dog, the first time probably that he directly gets this canine title instead of dean, and it fits, it depicts. he is so insecure, so dependent. he loves dean to the point of self-annihilation. he always comes back. he, like any tamed dog, wants to prove himself, and to protect, and attack for. that might be why he is so scared when dean deliberately lets him out. if he let me out... does he no longer love me? and if he doesn't love me anymore, what else do i have in this world that i abjured for my cage completely?

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

The Duality of Simon (or the Importance of Marcy)

Travel back to the early 2010s, when Adventure Time was still a fairly new thing. The fandom was growing, the theories were flowing. We've had confirmation that Ooo is in fact a post appcalyptic world. And then we get:

Here was living, breathing proof of the intersection between Ooo and our world. Simon Petrikov was a literal connection to the past, and moreover one of the ways Adventure Time really began to develop its inner tragedies.

But honestly, as sad as the Idea of Simon Petrikov was - it remained that he was a relic, an inert tragedy that was a connection to the past, but not necessarily connected to the future.

Enter:

You can mourn the losses of ages past. But it won't necessarily move you to act. Because there's nothing to compel you. You can stand to gain something but it's more important that you don't lose anything by keeping the status quo. In short, there weren't any stakes.

No, not those kind of Stakes... Well... maybe a little

So, bear in mind, Betty won't make her debut until two seasons after "Holly Jolly Secrets". To us, she was a non-entity. Simon's grief over her loss was for the audience, a mostly intellectual exercise. How sad for this poor cursed man to lose the woman he loved - replacing all proper nouns with common nouns because we didn't know Simon either. But his situation is clearly sad, just in a general, unspecific way. Because again, there's nothing at stake here.

Marcy drives thoses stakes up (and into our hearts). Suddenly, Simon becomes Very Very Real because we know Marcy. We've hung out with her for at least five seasons now leading up to the game changing "I Remember You".

By connecting Marcy to this Simon, suddenly we had something to lose - suddenly we already lost something. Marcy gave Simon's curse weight - dimension - texture - rendering it very real instead of a mere intellectual tragedy. Simon matters because he matters to someone here and now, because someone was still crying over him. And we love Marcy. We don't want her to cry.

It was through the Marcy and Simon relationship that we came to learn of and love Simon. Betty came later. Betty came after. We already loved Simon by then so learning of his love story was just building on that love. Naturally, being invested in the Simon and Betty relationship without prior connection to Simon is possible. But the fact that he was already established and endeared to the audience goes a way into investing in the Simon and Betty relationship.

So we get to Fionna and Cake.

We get exactly one scene with the Marcy we know and love. And Simon isn't even in the same room as her.

And the show is fully justified in doing so because Fionna and Cake was a series about Simon and Betty. And Simon and Marcy have little to do with that A story (the love plotline). Even if the B story (the recovery plotline) does pay homage to Simon and Marcy by showing Simon that he does have value, the homage amounts to only a few scenes (maybe cumulatively three minutes of screen time) in the whole series.

However, Simon and Marcy's relationship wasn't just to show that Simon is an integral component to the way Ooo came to be, and his impact on the people he loves. Simon and Marcy's relationship is integral to how we came to love Simon - against all odds and all tenets of common sense, a man that was slowly warped by madness chose to take care of a completely unknown little girl that he found in the wreckage of the world.

The problem here is that Marcy's Simon and Betty's Simon never got to meet in the middle. A lot of this is rooted in the original Adventure Time series where Betty and Marceline never speak more than ten words to each other.

Literally the only time they share the screen (and no I'm not counting Betty bot in Broke his Crown)

Which is BANANAS considering they are literally the two most important people in Simon's life.

And listen, again, by Fionna and Cake, we are invested in Simon and Betty, especially after what she did during the finale. We want to know about them.

And again, the Fionna and Cake series is well and wholly complete without ever having Simon and Marcy talk.

But it leaves a little ache. Because again, the first opportunity to truly love and connect with Simon came through Simon and Marcy. And we never really know how they get on now that they're back together. We seriously have maybe 10 lines of conversation between them since the finale and this includes Obsidian.

Literally, he says hi to Marcy twice and that's it. Very meaningful conversation.

Aaaand there's also the supreme irony where in one relationship, Simon never gets a chance to contribute equally, and in his other relationship, Simon wore himself down to nubs giving all that he had. But this duality within Simon is never really connected. There is a throughline here, his impulse for self sacrifice shares a root for his self centered perspective that blinded him to Betty's self effacing habits.

Now here's the thing, Fionna and Cake also built its conflict around Simon's identity and his self worth, etc. Yet it doesn't really contend with all that Simon has done without Betty, and before Ice King. By centering the narrative on only how he was with Betty (both pre and post Mushroom War), we get very little foundation laid out for what he could do after he says goodbye to her.

And this isn't a mistake because again, the series stands on its own just fine. The story works without it because at least that central relationship of Simon and Betty is fully established. But it does come at the cost of a missed opportunity to fully explore the cause of Simon's myopia, or how living through an apocalypse could reinforce that myopia because Simon keeps romanticizing "when his life was great".

Finally, the other downside is that Fionna and Cake stands on its own, maybe a little too much. It's still based on the characters of Adventure Time, building on the love for the original show. So it would have been a crowd pleaser, shall we say some fan service, to get more of what the original show worked hard to make us love.

[dark-night-hero]

Kaeya found it hard to believe how clingy you are nowadays. It is not like you were never clingy to him but then again, nowadays you are being clingy. Extra clingy to be exact.

"... Seriously?" "Leave 'em be Diluc." Kaeya sigh "No I would have understand if it was just the two of you alone, but... right here? Seriously?" "What's wrong being in the arms of my love?" You pout as you butt in, one hand reaching out for your drink that was on the barstool, the other kept warped around your lover's neck as you sat there comfortably on his lap, his cool hands resting on your side.

In the end, Diluc could only sigh before keeping himself busy behind the bar. There was almost midnight and unlike any other day, there was barely a crowd, one because it is still the busiest time of the week and second, because it is scorching hot people seemed to prefer cooling down on their own house. And you? Oh. You prefer to cool down in your lover's arms.

Kaeya truly ind it hard to believe how clingy you have become because of the heat almost remembering the times where he could not hold you during the winter season due to him being 'cold'. But he does not mind it though. In fact, he was enjoying it more than he should. That he could still remember that day.

"Can I hold you?" You asked one day as soon as he stepped inside your home. "Huh?" He was busy taking off his coat when he heard that and almost drop it on the spot. After all, you were never the one to imitate physical affection and of course, Kaeya being a gentleman he is, take consideration of it. "Can I hold you?" He blink, looking at your blushing cheeks as your eyes refused to meet his. "You know what... nevermi-" "Come here." Removing his coat and shoes in a blink of an eyes, he was already by your side.

"This is nice." You giggle, kicking your feet in the air as he gives you a piggyback ride. "Because it's cool?" He asked, a smile making its way on his lips as he tighten his hold on your tights. "No." He then felt you place your chin in his should and hug him closer, "because it's you." You laugh "oh and maybe because it's cool." "You're so silly." He chuckles.

"Hey Kaeya." He could feel you slowly dozing off his back causing him to humm in reply, causing you to feel the vibration on his back. You only snuggle closer to him, arms warped around his chest and shoulder. "I love you." With a smile on his lips, with the starts their to witness your love. "I love you too." He replied.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: i want to cling into this man for the rest of my summer days.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

They're back at that one bit of woodland again, with the strangely cut trees and the avocado sapling and an unusual number of birds. Fit hates it here, he hates what it does to his friend. He sees the distant look in Philza's eyes, the way his movements become softer, slower, almost floating. He sees the warpstone, and takes it, and knows it means that sometimes Philza comes here alone.

He sees the way Philza puts his parachute away too high, and does not bucket clutch when he lands. Hears the crunch of his ankles, too.

It's not the first time Fit's seen it either, though its novel in /Phil/. In the wasteland, in the many wars... Yeah, he's seen this before. People who can't face what they've done - what the world did to them - so their minds fade into a dream until reality crashes in with a knife through their spine. Nobody wastes an end crystal on someone who got lost in a dream, at least not the quiet ones.

(To kill those lost in a nightmare you want a bow, anyway - even if you dress in their colours, they might still consider you a monster in their dreams. Fit's almost glad Philza's brain cracked quietly - its safer, less likely to draw the Federation's ire, but it also means the pain goes unnoticed. He wonders, just how many islanders' suffering has been missed?)

The doubt in reality even when present Fit has seen less of, but it's not unheard of. In the wasteland people tend towards killing and being killed, but sometimes someone gets a grand idea into their heads.

Well, no, a lot of people do. Even if Fit only considers grand torture he can think of a good number of people, they're just not often met with success.

He has seen it, though, between one incursion and the next. There had been this one asshole up in the north eastern quadrant who took a delight in fucking with people's heads. One of the Veterans - Fit can't remember his name, why can't he remember even his allies-of-occasion's names? - had been caught. The guy managed to break himself out in a few days, but even that had been enough to have him clarifying reality for months.

Philza...

Well Philza was gone for at least twice as long, and, old crow that he might be, he doesn't have nearly the training against mind games and /human/ bullshit a Wastelander has.

He's still quick with the scythe whenever monsters appear, so at least the Feds haven't stolen that from him too.

"The birds are here, right?" Philza eventually asks.

"Yup," Fit pops the word a little, wanting to go home but not wanting to leave a trauma-fucked friend at ground zero too long. "Still here, still the wrong biome. The avocado sapling is still here, too. There was something here, they just took it down."

Philza squints at that sapling, and hums under his breath. Fit doesn't expect to be believed. It's just, despite everything, he has his own fucking eyes. This place is clearly fucked up, the Federation builds in an instant so why not destroy, and not /once/ has Philza asked him if something is real and the answer was no. His perception wasn't fucked with, just his faith in it.

Which is, in some ways, harder to deal with.

Fit would wonder why he's dealing with this, but he knows everything Philza has done for him and how, when its down to the wire, they're about the only friends either of them can really rely on. Seasons change, alliances are betrayed, lovers fight, and in the middle of it all is always black wings and Philza.

If after all these years all the man needs is an occasional reality check then, gods damn him, Fit won't even charge him for it.

He's nice like that.

"Alright," Philza eventually says. "Let's go home."

They warp back to his home - an empty home, but a home - and Philza hesitates at the hatch.

"Look," Fit says. "If you want to go out there again, or you see something you're not sure about? Just ask me. If I'm not about, take a photo and ask me later."

"Thanks mate," Philza says, with a smile reading 'I'll never do that, but the offer's appreciated'. "Sleep well."

"You too," Fit calls back, and really, he did expect that to be the end of that.

---

It is not, of course, the end of that. There's a few more times in the coming days when they're together, and Philza asks his opinion on the reality of a bird - almost always a bird, sometimes a shrub, and Fit is lining up what triggers he can to try convince his friend to avoid.

He knows Phil, and he knows people, and he knows that most people would rather claw their own eyes out than ask for help. Philza included. Himself included, to be fair to the man.

It's what makes what happens next more horrifying, and more of a surprise.

He is out with Pac and Mike when it happens. Mike is still acting a little odd, but so far he has attacked nobody, threatened nobody, and made no creepy comments about the eggs - Fit will take what he is given and call it a success. Mike is even acting a little more normal, herding Pac and Fit onto a picnic rug and serving them drinks.

Pac laughs and smiles, and Fit slips poison test strips into every single glass he is handed but laughs along with him.

So far, no poison - Fit knows better than to think doing nothing will have fixed the brainwashing (possession?), but maybe the level of control varies. It seems reasonable, then, to expect a chill day for the morning crew; Tubbo is offline, Philza is tens if not thousands of blocks out exploring, and Fit has a date with his two favourite scientists.

... A social engagement with one of his favourite scientists, chaperoned by the other.

Fit sits and listens as Pac explains some additions he and Mike wish to make to the Murder Mystery Arena, occasionally offering his admittedly uncreative takes. Fit knows what he's good for, and it isn't interior design. He just... did not quite expect his thoughts to be so bad that they managed to trigger a laughing fit in the still somewhat out of it Mike.

If only he could also help Mike like he tries to help Pac and Philza, but whatever happened to him, his green-eyed scientist no longer trusts him enough for that.

It's a shock, then, when Mike speaks over Pac, scowling at his communicator. "I don't think this message is for me," he says.

"What message?" Pac asks, already moving to look.

Fit leaves him to it - probably Aypierre asking about some newfangled machine, or Cellbit wanting some answers - before realising Philza is the only person both awake and not at the picnic. That has him standing, grabbing his own communicator, even as Pac is already reading it.

"It just says 'can you come over here a second'?" Pac frowns. "From Philza. Do you think he's okay?"

"He probably just hit the wrong name and didn't realise," Fit tries to keep his voice easier than he feels. Even while he's speaking, he types out a quick 'sharestone?'.

Almost immediately he gets a reply 'thanks mate' and then 'red, named parrot'.

Fit's brain clicks in as to exactly what that might be.

"Yeah he meant me. Mind if I just go check in with him? I'll be right back."

Mike shuffles a little closer to Pac, who in turn waves him away. Their sharestone today is blue, not red, but he takes it to Spawn, and then heads out again.

Sure enough, there's a new red sharestone connected to the network. It's named 'prart', however, and Fit really has to wonder just how badly Philza must be doing to let that happen.

---

Arriving across the link, Fit finds Philza sat on the grass next to the sharestone, knees curled up and hands shaking. It is the middle of the day, but he still quickly checks around for threats. Swamp, no crocodiles, sharestone and Philza tucked close to a tree. The only other living beings he can see are birds - hummingbirds, parrots, and a grey one pecking at Philza's trousers.

Given Philza is in a swamp, Fit has a good idea as to what he might be doing.

"Oi Philza," Fit calls, tossing himself onto the grass beside his friend. "You were missing me?"

"Hit me," Philza replies, still curled in the ball. "You're real, right? Then hit me."

Fit knows the queries about birds well enough by now, but the query about his own presence makes dread settle in his stomach.

"Alright," is what he actually says, before backhanding his friend across the arm.

At the contact Philza's breath stutters for a moment, before his fingers reach out and trace where he was touched. It's a slow movement, one alongside which he mouths words without sound, before the fingers dart out and grab Fit's hand. He clings, tight, for a long moment, and then lets go with an exhale.

"Thanks mate," Philza's voice shakes, far too quiet for comfort. "... You can see the birds too, right?"

"Yeah," Fit frowns - for all he doubts reality, Philza has /never/ said he's seen a bird that Fit couldn't also see. "Let me see. Five or six blue parrots over there, three hummingbirds, another parrot in darker blue, pair of red ones, I think there's a green one in that tree over there... Four chickens, and then there's a grey bird by your ankle."

At the mention of the grey bird, a shaky hand reaches out, and Philza begins to pet its head. Fit knows of some people back in the wasteland who take animals to help with the trauma, but he can't help but think a bird is, right now, a terrible choice for his friend.

"So you are real," Philza speaks so gently to the parrot, though. "Here you go, come on up."

Fit watches quietly as Philza uncurls, sprinkling a handful of seed on his lap to tempt the bird up. Sure enough, it goes.

"What do you see in this photo?" Philza then asks, handing something to Fit.

It's a photo of a tree. It's not a tree that Fit can see nearby, but it is one for sure. A single black bird sits in it, watching.

"I thought crows had been banished from the island," Fit frowns. "Wild ones, anyway."

"Okay, okay," Philza runs one hand through his hair, and another over his bird's head. "I'm only going a bit crazy then."

"They're fucking with you," Fit frowns. "Else I'm somehow reliably hallucinating the same as you."

Philza shakes his head - Fit wonders just what happened in that birdhouse, that his friend's brain would rather deconstruct reality than face that it could have happened, and just what purpose it serves the Federation to try.

"This bird... You remember the parrots by the museum?"

"The ones that vanished?"

"When I got back to the bunker, he was in a cage right next to the trap door." Philza's eyes are wide, a little wild.

"Well shit." Fit frowns at it. "Same bird?"

Philza gently lifts one of the bird's wings, showing Fit a very distinctive pattern on it. Same bird, else the Federation did something extremely fucky.

"I have to cage him to bring him places. Dumbass doesn't understand ladders, let alone warps. I don't like caging him. But keeping him in the house is just another, bigger cage. I can't do that to him, Fit, I /can't/." Philza's fingers twitch as he says it. "But I can't let him go either. What if the Feds take him again? What if they hurt him? They hurt our children, why wouldn't they hurt him?"

"He sure seems happy enough to me." Fit doesn't actually know much about birds, but its eating out of Philza's lap and has never made any attempt to get away. "Likes you well enough, too."

"But its a /cage/, Fit," Philza emphasises the word. "I know he's only little, but the cage is small too."

It's not about the bird. There is no way in hell that this is about the bird. There is no universe, here or anywhere else, where this is actually about putting a bird in a cage for five minutes while Philza teleports.

Fit just isn't sure if Philza actually knows it isn't about the cage, though, and with him teetering on a full breakdown, decides its better not to ask.

Instead, he offers an arm. Philza collapses against his side.

"They were just fucking with you," Fit tries to reassure him. "Everything you're asked about has been real, your reality is fine, I'm here, you're here, we're both real. So are the birds. The eggs? Real. Missing, but real, and we will get them back."

"I wish they wouldn't despawn my withers so I could blow the fuckers up."

Fit gives a laugh, noting how Philza's own wings fluff up a little at the words.

"Same," he says. "I want to see it."

"Do you know how many I tried to spawn?" he asks. "And they just erased them from existence."

"Yeah, we noticed," Fit agrees. "Assholes."

Philza is still shaking a little, but laughs as he falls against Fit's side. He's managing to talk normal enough, but Fit's been around both him and the mentally fucked long enough to recognise the way his fingers cling and eye flitter. It's not the usual paranoia, he's looking at all the wrong things to check for danger - not the swamp, but the birds, Fit's hand, the sharestone...

Fit's communicator pings. Looking down he finds a message from Pac, 'how much longer will you be?'

'Not long. Can I bring Philza?' he replies. Then, a moment later, adds, 'Feds are fucking with him.'

There's a longer pause than Fit expects before he receives 'yes.' and then 'is he okay?'

"Hey Phil," Fit says, rather than immediately reply. "I was having a picnic with Pac and Mike. Do you want to join us?"

"I shouldn't-" Philza looks up.

Fit raises an eyebrow.

"Fine," Philza sighs. "I need to get rid of some toast anyway."

"That's the spirit!"

It really isn't; Fit tilts his communicator away from Philza as he types back. 'Not really. I'm worried.'

Pac doesn't reply again, or at least not immediately; Fit shoves his communicator back in his pocket, before untangling himself from Philza and hoisting himself up. "We have a blue sharestone set up; meet you at spawn?"

Philza doesn't reply as he collects his own sharestone and returns it to his inventory. He does, however, raise his portable warpstone as he traps his bird in a cage.

Fit waits to make sure Philza is actually leaving before raising his own as well. Spawn is far from beyond the Federation's influence, but its a hell of a lot safer than a random swamp... Fuck, 300,000 blocks out. Someone's always passing spawn, the Federation can't mess with it easily.

"Here," Fit points out the right sharestone as he arrives. "Mike hasn't even poisoned any tea yet! Or threatened to murder anyone today."

Philza's laugh is a little nervous, but he follows through anyway. Fit checks the map to make sure he got there, and follows.

He isn't surprised to get there and find the bird already free, sitting on Philza's shoulder, but how quickly he let it out...

It isn't about that bird and that cage at all.

"Fit!" both halves of Tazercraft at least are excited to have him back.

"I have wine!" Pac seems very excited about that, despite the concerned glance he throws at both Mike and Philza.

Fit does his best to give a reassuring one back - impossible given Philza's very quiet 'hi mate' before silently curling up under a tree. "Great! Sorry about the disruption, the swamp had crocodiles."

"Multiple?" Pac pulls a face - Fit would be Philza is convinced that Pac believes it, but Fit knows the tells. "Eesh."

"Bad luck," Mike passes Philza an entire bottle of wine before Fit can even think about subtly stopping him.

Philza does pour some into a glass before downing it. Right now, Fit will take what he can get. And if that is just he's going to need to play up his separation anxiety to keep Philza close and safe... He just hopes Pac and Mike understand, because he's not sure Philza will survive to see his kids again otherwise.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Could I ask for some yandere alucard post season 3 with a s/o that isn't human or only part human? Like being half fae, nymph or siren. I just think the dynamics of that relationship would be quite different then say if the object of his obsession was human given his lack of faith in humanity in season 3s aftermath

A/N: I LOVE this question! It was so interesting to think about all the different ways the MC could be half-human and have that connection with Alucard. I did end up going with a mermaid/siren sort of creature as the original asker did send in an additional ask clarifying how they could picture this abused mermaid girl feeling kinship with Alucard because of his current distrust of humans, and I liked that element. I also chose a siren / mer create as they have abilities to manipulate/hypnotize their prey, an ability Alucard probably has as well with him being half-vampire. I ended up writing a very long outline in bullet points but felt that it didn't quite flow for HC, so I instead broke it up into smaller scenes below. I hope that’s ok. Sorry, it took so long. I was sick with some weird virus for weeks (lowkey feel like it’s mono or something), and could only handle work and family crap, like I barely had any motivation to live. And then when I started writing this, it sort of took on a life of its own lol. (What can I say? I love me some Alucard.) 

Anon also suggested I check out this manga- it’s called Becoming the Villain's Family and it’s about a siren who goes back in time and makes a marriage pact with a devil to prevent their untimely fates. I’m not a huge manga reader, but my sister is, so I’m going to recommend it to her and maybe we can read it together. 

Yandere! Alucard (Post-S3) w/ A Half-Siren S/O 

The fair creature did not see quite how it happened, for it had all transpired too fast. A deep guttural growl echoed from past the tree line, well beyond the corners of her vision as the very ground beneath the wagon’s feet began to shake violently. As swiftly and silently as a flash of lightning, the wagon she resided in was sliced in half, the metal cage that kept her prisoner acting as her only guard against an elongated talon from some sort of monster. The cage was tossed sideways, skittering along the dirt ground as the poor mer creature inside flipped over violently, her dehydrated human form and lack of clothing sending her soft, nearly translucent skin into the square welds hard enough to form bruises. 

“Retrieve the asset!” 

“Don’t let her escape!” 

“Are you crazy?! Fuck the asset!” 

Around her, a flurry of mixed male voices shouted out contradictory directions. With only the setting sun for light, it was difficult to make out who had yelled what. 

Then came more growls in addition to all the shouting. Then the shouting turned into screaming. And a handful of those screams turned into cut-off cries followed by loud squelching. A flurry of slices and swings from blades and swords interrupted what must have been the creature's onslaught, but it would certainly not last long. There would be more torn flesh, and more final yells- a final symphony of bloodshed to follow. 

Kneeling into an upright position, the fair mer creature pushed and pulled frantically against the metal door of her cage. The hinges had warped in the fall, bending just so, that if enough force was applied…

With a metallic screech, the young water maiden could kick her cage door from its battered hinges. Fortunately enough for her, none of her captors seemed to notice her imminent freedom, the lot of them busy battling hideous creatures beyond any comprehensible amalgam or imagination. 

Unfortunately for her, her sudden movement did not go unnoticed by one such creature. 

A smaller, fiendish-looking thing, with the body of a lizard, but the head of a vulture, and the tail of a scorpion mawed loudly at her, its stinger striking warningly at the ground. 

Not needing to be told twice, the young maiden leaped up and made a mad dash for the treeline on the other side of the clearing, opposite the line of creatures. 

As she made it past the treeline she watched as one of her imprisoners struck successfully at the rear of the small fiendish creature with the sharp end of a spear. It cut roughly into the monster’s backside, turning the horrid thing’s attention away from her back onto her captors. 

Pausing for a mere second, she took one last look at the few men still alive, fighting for their lives against the horrible creatures. Even if they were to win the fight, she swore it would be the last time she saw them. Beasts or no beasts, she was never losing her freedom again. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The bottoms of her feet stung with every step, and her calves burned worse every time she jumped over branches, landing on uneven ground. Her thighs were practically numb from the midseason cold, and her time forced to rest on the cold metal bars of her prison certainly did not help. But she refused to stop running. Even if she was unfamiliar with the practice of traveling upright on two extremities, she perished the thought that her inexperience might slow her down. She could not fail. She could not yet rest. Whoever won the fight between her captors and the creatures was certain to follow after her once the battle was done. She could not waste precious time. So despite pain and exhaustion, she pushed onward. 

After what felt like an eternity, although, if she were to judge by the moon, it must have only been a few hours, she found her legs could no longer support her weight, as her knees buckled beneath her, slipping on the soft embankment ground. 

‘Embankment?’ The maiden, feeling a final surge of hope, strained her neck to get a better look. It did appear that she had made it to a river bank, although it was a rather small one at that. Still, the sight felt like a miracle. It had been too long since her body was submerged, snug, within her element’s embrace. And given the choice between breathing her last breaths on the cold dry forest ground, or under a river’s soft current, she’d choose the river, any day. 

Using her arms to pull herself into the cold water, she breathed one final breath of chilled night air before slinking into the river water. Closing her eyes, the young maiden had but one thought: 

‘If this is to be my final resting place, then so be it.’ 

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning started the same way all mornings do: the sun rose in the sky, the birds and bugs began their daily chirps, and a very forlorn-looking Adrian Tepes, known currently as Alucard, son of Dracula exited his castle in search for food, his usual basket in hand. Unusual however were the two corpses that greeted him as he passed the castle steps. 

Alucard paid the bodies no mind, he didn’t once glance in either of their directions. He kept his eyes forward, locked onto the foliage and wildlife hidden within the forest line choosing to pretend the bodies were no longer there. Yes, he knew they were there. Of course, he knew. He was the one to string them up after all. But if he were to acknowledge the corpses' presence, then he would also be required to acknowledge the circumstances that led them to be staked there, and that was something not even the great slayer of Dracula could do. So instead Alucard did what he could: he adjusted the basket in his arms and began mentally preparing the meal he would make. 

Coming to the river bank, Alucard felt something was off. He sensed another presence nearby. Kneeling down to the water, he kept his ears open for any movement within the trees but did not hear any. 

‘Odd.’ The dhampir waited for a spell before resuming his usual activities. He methodically removed his boots, before rolling up the ends of his pants, as he prepared to wade into the river. He had found a comfortable position, balanced on the river rocks below his feet when he noticed another oddity. 

“Where have all the fish gone?” 

The river, once teeming with fish, ones even brave enough to stick around as he waded into the water, were nowhere to be seen. Besides the rushing of water over the river bank, Alucard could not hear them swimming around within the water below. 

Turning his head, he found a single glint of scales reflecting the morning’s rays a few meters from where he had been standing. But just one fish? Or perhaps, a damn of some kind was preventing them from moving freely. Alucard made a move to investigate closer. But then, just as he turned to do so, what appeared to be an incredibly large fish leaped out of the river, and flopped onto the bank. It writhed around, flopping this way and that before rolling over to face him. It was at that moment Alucard realized why all the other fish had disappeared. There was no damn, no net. It was because of this… this creature. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The young mermaid awoke with a start, the deep echo of footsteps underwater had vibrated her awake. From where she lay, her vision was obscured, but she could make it out that the being was human in nature, standing on two legs, with only two arms to boot. It did not possess any claws or animal characteristics like any of the night creatures from the night before, nor did it appear to resemble any of the men who had taken her. 

The maiden stayed as still as stone, hoping this new strange human would grow bored of waiting for a meal to catch, turn around, and go home. But luck, as it had proven time and time again as of late, was not on her side. 

The man made a move towards her position, and she found she could not help the fear that bubbled up from inside her chest. The river was too small for her to swim through. More so, moving within the water would only create splashes to further catch this stranger’s attention. If she wanted to get away, she’d need to shift back to her human form and make yet another run for it on foot. 

Using the strength her long waterlogged rest had given her, she propelled her body out of the water, onto the river bank. As soon as her full body was on land, she writhed and wriggled, doing all she could to shake the excess water from her body. 

Her earlier set of legs had once again merged into a fishtail, strong and thick, with grooved fins to match. Her abdomen and chest were plated with scales all up the sides. And as she shook herself dry, several of those scales slid off her body into the dirt. Her ears, previously flesh and pointed more like an elf’s, had pulled back, with loose tentacle-like fins spouting out around their outer shell. In the daylight, she knew there was no mistaking what she was. But if she was to change her form quickly, it was a risk she needed to take. 

Despite the morning's warm sun, her body did not dry as fast as she had hoped. The maiden used her arms, and her now-clawed fingers to pull herself up further, finally gaining purchase on one bark of a tree, as she did her best to twist around and face this stranger head-on. 

Letting out a hiss, she bore her fangs at the strange blonde man standing before her. Only the man did not seem intimidated, nor shocked to see a creature such as herself. If anything, he appeared, at ease. Was this perhaps a trap? She hissed again but found herself on the side of surprise when the seemingly human man bared his own set of fangs and hissed back. 

✧ ✧ ✧

‘A mermaid?’ Alucard watched, amused, as the young creature did her best to appear menacing to him. If only she knew, how instead of fear, Alucard felt a rush of reassurance at the sight of her inhuman features. 

‘Humans,’ he thought bitterly. It was two humans who had hurt him most of all. Not even his own father’s war on humanity had harmed him the way those two did. His father left him for dead paled in comparison to the shame and torment he carried with him from that one night.  

Had a human shown their face on his property, he’d… Well, Alucard was not certain what he would do should they refuse his order to leave. But whatever he decided, it would not be a fate any would enjoy, that’s for certain. 

Thankfully, with the very distinct mer-features of this individual, that point was moot. He did not need to threaten disembowelment or an eternity of torture as a spawn, Alucard felt no such need to. 

He took a step closer, taking in her unique features. Her eyes were large and dark, almost pure pools of black. He could feel the pull luring him in closer the longer he looked into them. Her skin was almost opaque, despite its color. At certain angles, rays of the morning sun seemed to shine through her body, as opposed to around it. And her tail, no doubt the most impressive of her peculiarities, glinted impressively, making her an almost otherworldly mirage against the browns and greens of the surrounding greenery. 

Of course, no sooner than Alucard could admire such an ethereal sight, her tail began to lose some of its luminescence, growing duller by the second. The previously shiny scales that overlapped each other began to flake off, one by one. Down the middle of her tail, from where her belly button would have been on her abdomen had she been a human, what scaled skin remained began to crack, viscously, like a deep fissure that would not heal. The fissure continued to grow in depth and width as Alucard came within feet of her. 

She hissed for a second time at his forward movement, but Alucurd was undeterred. Smiling a sort of melancholy smile, he paused before opening up his maw, revealing his impressive fangs with a hiss of his own.

At his revelation, the creature’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the fear and hatred in her eyes, instead replaced by a much more benevolent wonder. 

She opened her mouth, the tentacles around her ears shriveling into themselves, her ears changing to a more elven point as they came to rest flatter against her head. Alucard watched as her fangs dissipated too, the sharp canine points rounding themselves down into very simple humanoid-looking teeth. The back of her throat opened and closed, but very little sound came out. If she was trying to communicate, it seemed a verbal conversation was currently off the table. 

“I am Alucard Tepes, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes.” Alucard spoke, taking the lead for her. “And I am not human.” 

The mermaid closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree bark, wincing once or twice as a very slime-covered, human-looking bottom half cracked free from the dried shell of her former tail. She used her hands to pull the husks away from her body, leaving every bit of her person on display. 

Alucard cleared his throat before deciding to remove his shirt and give it to her. He tossed the white shirt to the maiden who caught it in one hand. Bringing it in to smell, she sniffed it before looking back at him curiously. 

“If you wish to spend the walk back to my castle naked, I won’t stop you. But as I’m sure you’ve learned, people up here spend most of their life clothed.” 

She turned her head in the opposite direction as if to say, ‘So?’ before ultimately relenting, pulling the white top over her head. 

Making a move to stand, her legs wobbled, giving out underneath her. But before she could fall, by the grace of his vampiric speed, Alucard managed to catch her, one of his arms looping under hers around her shoulder. Upon noticing the sudden conflict, the mermaiden hissed again but made no move to shove him off. Making another choked-off sound, from the back of her throat, she tried speaking again. 

“Ghhank hou.” Frowning, she cleared her throat before trying again. “Thgank cou,” her voice was quiet, and yet deep and guttural at the same time as if she was holding back. 

“So you can speak,” Alucard commented as he helped her walk a distance, finding her balance. 

The young maiden nodded, before shaking her head. “Youg may naught want mee too.” She blinked her large, dark eyes at him, pointing to them, them down to her throat as she did so. “Sssighh-rhen.” 

Alucard paused his walking, staring his golden orbs back at her. In the light, the mermaid watched as they glittered and shined, an almost metallic color, reminiscent of pirates’ gold, lulling her into a sense of security. She gave off a warning growl, having caught on to the fact that she was not the only one with influential abilities. Alucard blinked twice, breaking off the trance. 

“As I said before,” he reiterated, leading the way back to his castle, “I am not human.” 

The mermaiden watched him, as an almost smirk graced her inhumanely beautiful face. “Gooodd,” she hissed out. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“That is how the castle came to be in my possession.” 

Alucard led the young mermaiden down the many hallways and corridors of the castle, telling her the story of how he, along with Belmont and Sypha, were tasked with defeating Dracula. He stopped to point out various rooms along the way, the ones he was the most familiar with, anyway. There was still much of the castle that felt foreign to him. It was as if he walked the rows of a graveyard, rarely stopping to notice yet another name on a tombstone. How many hands had helped build this place? How much of their blood was shed to gather all the infinite knowledge and wealth that was kept here? Alucard did not know. Nor was he certain he wanted to know. 

Walking past the various debris and carnage still left from their battle with Dracula, Alucard ushered her into his father’s former study, now his study. In the middle of the room sat one large rather ornate chair, placed before a cracked fireplace. In the chair was a crumbled blanket and pillow. On the small table next to it, a cold long-forgotten cup of tea. The items together suggested this chair was used in recent days for sleeping, not for sitting and reading or studying of any sort. 

The mermaiden narrowed her eyes at that. Surely, even with this battle, Alucard claimed had taken place within his home, there were bedrooms and living quarters left unbothered. Why would someone in possession of such a grand and luxurious home sleep sitting up in a chair? Or perhaps, was it a question of biology, not psychology? Did a being like Alucard require sleep at all? 

As the mermaiden contemplated, Alucard kneeled down to start a fire, but not before vaguely gesturing at the crack that ran up the front brick of the fireplace. “As you can see, the fight was not limited to one area or room.” 

“Bprokeghn,” the mermaid nodded before gesturing herself to the chair and blanket set-up. “Behd?” 

Alucard cleared his throat, as he stoked the beginning flames of the fire. “My room was… damaged, yes.” 

Seemingly content with that answer, the mermaiden turned her attention to other parts of the room. 

Off to the right there were various bookshelves and texts. And on the left? A modest oak desk sat under a large painting of a beautiful woman. Her hair was golden, almost appearing to glow under the warm hue of the fire’s dancing light. Her eyes were large and hopeful, and her size petite but strong. In her hand, she held a white flower, although its beauty paled in comparison to hers, it was a lovely touch against the dark maroon dress she was wearing. 

“Prehty,” she said, stopping to admire the woman in the painting. 

Upon hearing her words, Alucard looked up, a soft smile having formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “She was beautiful.” 

Glancing back at the man, the mer creature noticed his hair was blonde and rather lovely as well. Not as gorgeous as her own siren’s locks of course, but that was understandable. She pointed to the hair of the woman in the painting before pointing to her own, and then finally, to his. “Prehty too.” 

✧ ✧ ✧

From where he stood in the kitchen, Alucard watched amusedly as the young woman tried taking a bite of her grossly undercooked fish using a knife and fork, stifling a laugh every time she would manage to grip one utensil only to drop the other. Her less-than-human approach to everyday things made Alucard feel at ease. She was not a lying, conniving human he had to watch out for, she was not biding her time waiting to stab him in the back. Quite the contrary: she was blunt and rather oblivious to human social conventions. 

She had very little reservations when it came to nudity, Alucard had come to discover. If it wasn’t for his polite, insistence, she would have continued to roam the castle naked. Dwelling deep underwater made her rather immune to things like catching a chill. Alucard was similar, he did not feel the cold the way humans did, although he was not entirely immune to it. He would surely suffer frostbite should he choose to venture outside in the dead of winter without any clothes on his back. However, unlike a human, and more like a vampire, it would take more than freezing exposure to do him in. 

It was almost comforting in a way, to share the castle with someone who’s biology was surprisingly close to his. She was more unhuman than human most days, her residual scales and sharp claw-like nails coming back once her body had returned to full-health. Her teeth had also increased in length, although Alucard suspected she could control their sharpness at will to some degree, her opting to keep her incisors short and squared, more human-like, whenever the two would talk walks around outside the castle. 

The mermaiden also had an interesting diet. She preferred her food cold, if not raw. Even things like fish and other meats, she refused to eat properly cooked. Alucard briefly recalled the first time he had tried to offer her dinner. He steamed her fish the same way he steamed his, and presented it to her, expecting gratitude. It was humourous now, but back then he recalled being rather dissatisfied with her indignant reaction. She hissed, and berated him for serving her something ‘burnt’, or ‘burrrnt’ as she had called it. 

Alucard discovered it was less of a preference and more of a requirement when he found her eagerly licking the blood from a freshly killed and skinned hare he had fetched for dinner. It seemed that she, like him, and like the many other supernatural creatures, had a penchant for blood that was born out of a necessity, and not mere cruelty. With her diet of raw and bloody food, her skin appeared healthier- still as shiny and translucent, but less gray. Her human form’s skin was less cakey and dry, and when she did change back into her tailed form, which was rather often given how much she enjoyed lounging in one of the castle’s large communal baths, her scales shed much less than they had when they first met. Upon her initial arrival at the castle, Alucard found she’d leave scales behind her wherever she walked, the same way a lover might lay out a trail of rose petals. Of course in this case, there was no intimate surprise waiting for him behind closed doors (not that he’d want one given his past circumstances, anyway), but a very brash and temperamental half-siren, usually impatiently awaiting yet another “useless” lesson in human conventions. 

“Naught fun-ie,” she hissed, under her breath, well aware of Alucard’s amusement. “No need for toools underwater.” She dropped both her knife and fork unceremoniously onto her plate before crossing her arms, looking like a wilful toddler. 

“There’s no one to impress here,” Alucard assured her. “Besides, even without a fork and knife I’m sure you eat like a magistrate compared to Belmont. The rodents outside have more manners.” 

“Belmonnt,” the fair maiden repeated, picking up her fish with her bare hands. “Frrend.” 

“Yes. Although, I haven’t seen him or Sypha for quite some time.” Alucard answered, just a hint of loneliness creeping into his voice. 

“Hadd frend wonss.” Biting into her fish, she tore a chunk of flesh off with her teeth, a satisfied groan leaving her body as some of the excess moisture dribbled down her chin. “Huumann too.” She swallowed her bite of fish down, not bothering to chew much at all. “Dyed.” She licked her lips in satisfaction. “Beectraaid.” 

“Wherever humans are concerned, such possibilities are never in short supply.” Alucard agreed, handing her a cloth napkin to wipe her chin. “It is their nature.” 

Choking down the rest of her fish, the mermaiden swallowed harshly again before asking, “Owtsighed?” Of course, the two giant stakes housing decayed corpses had not escaped her notice on their way inside. 

Alucard retrieved her empty plate, moving to place it in the sink. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to remember the feel of the silver cords burning his skin, the way he suffocating under Taka and Sumi’s gaze, how if it were not for his sword and the magical component of it, it’d be his body flayed and strung up outside instead of theirs. Despite not having had anything to chew or eat, Alucard swallowed hard as well. 

“Yes,” he finally said.  

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where are wee going?” The mermaiden asked, her vocabulary and annunciation having improved much over the last couple of weeks. 

Dressed in a relatively sheer nightgown and robe, the young woman begrudgingly followed Alucard, already dressed for the day, as he led her over to the remains of the Belmont hold. Upon reaching the cleverly designed pulley system, Alucard lifted the safety bar of the lift and gestured for her to get in. 

The young mer woman bared her teeth but did not hiss, a vast improvement of manners and trust on her part. 

“You may recall in the past, I’ve mentioned a man named Belmont, Trevor Belmont.” Alucard set the bar back down, clicking it into place, before pulling one of the levers to begin their descent. 

She nodded. “Friend. Miss him.” 

Alucard furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I’ve once said I missed his company.” 

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, a form of nonverbal human communication she had recently picked up on. “Still,” she wagged a finger, disapprovingly. “Can tell. No want to be alone.” 

Having reached the bottom of the lift, Alucard secured the platform before exiting, seemingly eager to remove himself from their current conversation. “I speak his name frequently because he has gifted me a rather large piece of his family’s inheritance for safekeeping. Without my permission, I might add.” 

Flicking a large switch on the wall, the mermaiden watched in awe as hundreds of blue flames suddenly sparked alight, illuminating an expansive cavern of towered rows and rows of books and other meticulously organized collections. 

“This,” Alucard extended his arm out, showcasing the vastness of the space before them, “Is the Belmont Hold. It possesses all the knowledge the Belmonts learned on creatures of the night, the collection starting generations ago. Everything any Belmont learned has been recorded onto paper, and stored somewhere within these tomes.” 

Temporarily blindsided by excitement, the mermaiden found herself quickly making her way down several sets of stairs, her balance thankfully having improved tenfold, as she ignored the darker implications of Alucard’s words. 

“So much boooks!” She cried out, settling on entering a random upper row of tomes, pulling one out of the shelf. “So much papper!” 

Alucard nodded, coming to join her. “I take it your people do not have much use for such records underwater?” 

The young mer woman nodded, running her clawed fingers delicately over the inked pages. “Runes. Maghik. No paper.” 

Carefully, Alucard took the book from her hands and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. Before the mermaiden could bare her teeth or hiss at him in irritation he had already begun climbing down a nearby ladder, calling for her to follow. “Come. The books are impressive, but they are not what I wish to show you.” 

Reaching the lowest level before her, Alucard smiled softly as his eyes were met with the familiar scene of a magic mirror, and open chest. How strange to think he and his friends stood on this very ground when Sypha successfully managed to summon the castle. How strange to think right there, under his feet, was where Adrian Tepes died and Alucard of Wallachia truly began. 

There was a time when Alucard believed he and he alone would be the one to ever stand upon this, practically hallowed ground. Belmont was not yet sure if he wished to resume the responsibilities of his namesake. And Sypha, well, Sypha had chosen to follow Belmont in whatever trouble he managed to get himself into. Who knows if they would be back, if they ever intended on coming back? At the end of their journey, there was Alucard, left alone to shoulder the burden of both their families’ legacies. 

Trevor had told him not to make the castle his grave, but to use it and the hold to… help people. Such a task seemed near impossible when you were one dhampir, isolated far away from the rest of the world. But then, Alucard reflected, along came Taka and Sumi, and perhaps, he had once thought, he would no longer have to be alone. 

They were so eager to learn, but they were also so eager to leave. They did not come intending to stay, Alucard knew this, and yet, he could not help the way he drew their lessons out, making sure to be as detailed as possible. If they must go, he supposed, he could make it so they did not leave for a while. It was foolish to think his desires would go unnoticed by the two humans. More foolish perhaps, to expect them to understand. Alucard had been wrong. 

They sensed he was less than forthcoming, Alucard could not deny that was true. But he never lied, not once to them. But in their humanity, in their hurt and in their pain and guilt and anger they felt they were deceived. Perhaps deception was so readily on their mind because they had arrived with a plan to play him for a fool all along. 

Either way, it was fatal on their part. Alucard may have wanted them to stay, but he did not need them. They alleviated his loneliness, but they were not necessary companions, not like Trevor or Sypha. They were far too different, far too divested from the line of existence Alucard walked to ever truly understand him. Being human, they ignorantly believed themselves to possess so many options of their own, but as fate had proven: they too were wrong. 

But this young woman, this siren, this mermaid, she was different. She did not come seeking him, rather their meeting was entirely accidental. And this time, the playing field was even: she needed him just as much, if not more, than Alucard wanted her. It was different this time. Here, within the Belmont hold and his castle, she was the outsider. And no matter how long she stayed with him, no matter how hard she tried, she would remain less human than Alucard. Next to her, he was not a monster or a beast, no. 

At her side, he appeared solely as Wallachia’s savior, Alucard, and he was neither human nor monster. 

Coming back to the present moment, Alucard watched silently as the mermaiden approached the glass display case of vampire skulls. He watched as her eyes widened, and her fists clenched, before she spun around, her fangs bared. “Exsplain, now!” 

“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries. They came to Wallachia hunting Dracula and his army of vampires.” 

“You said Belmont friend!” 

“He is- was. As I have said to you before, he aided me in my journey to defeat my Father Dracula, to prevent him from securing the extinction of the human race.” 

The mermaiden tilted her head to the side. “Buut why? You vampire.” 

“Not entirely,” Alucard countered. 

The mermaiden’s eyes squinted. “What?”

“The woman in portraits you’ve so admired within the castle, she was my mother, Lisa Tepes, and she was human.” 

Enraged, the mermaiden’s face contorted into an expression of anger, her nostrils flaring with every huff of air she took. “Liar!” She accused him, making her way around the side of the cabinet, trying to move past the dhampir without encountering him directly. “You said humans betrayed! You said not like them! You lie!” 

“I did not lie. I never told you I was wholly vampire, nor did I once say I was not part human.” Alucard mirrored her movement, cutting her off before she could reach the stairs. “I aided humanity only to be betrayed by humans. I do not belong in their world, nor do they belong in mine.” 

“Nor in minesss!” She snarled. “You human. Not friend. Not anymoresss.” Shoving past Alucard she began up the stairs before she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Alucard, his expression angry, his fangs elongated and on clear display. 

“And where will you go? Your human charade may not disturb me but it is bound to alert others. There is no city, no town where you could travel that they would believe you to be one of their own.” His voice was deep, dark, and full of disdain. 

“Then I go home,” she retorted. “With othersss like mee.” 

“Do you think they will accept you now you’ve lived with a human, lain with a human?” 

“Half,” she spit into his face before sneering: “Half huumannn.” 

Alucard did not even flinch, entirely unphased by her vulgar action. “Human nonetheless,” he said, the ice in his veins offset only by the golden fire in his eyes. “Not even they would welcome you back now. There is nowhere you can go, no one who would welcome you. I,” he spoke, baring his fangs, “am all you have left. I am the only one who understands.” 

The mermaiden opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. She closed her mouth before opening it again, still hesitant on how to respond. If it was not as serious of a moment, Alucard would have laughed: she truly looked like a fish out of water. 

Careful as not to spook her, he slowly raised one hand, using it to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. How strange a sight to see a siren crying, awful yet beautiful at the same time. Like him, Alucard thought. 

“You are the only one who could possibly understand me. You need not ever leave.” Alucard used his other hand to take one of her own, and guide it, resting it atop his chest. “I do not wish to be alone anymore.” 

The maiden choked back more tears, shocked she was shedding them in the first place in Alucard’s presence. 

Prior to those horrible humans taking her, tears were not something the mermaiden had ever experienced. Living underwater, she was surrounded by saltwater. Even on the occasions she was consumed by great emotion, her eyes behaved no different, felt no different than they did being in their usual full-contact with water as they were everyday. But after she was taken, she found the ability to cry, something she despised. It burned the skin of her cheeks with hot shame, her throat felt too tight for air: the process of crying was foreign, and undeniably painful. She prayed it would not become a normal occurrence for her. She swore the moment she was free of her captors, she would never shed a tear again. And then she met Alucard. And he was…

Sweet. He was kind. He was not an ignorant, vengeful human. Surely, he would not give her reason to cry. They were of the same kind, she and him. He would harbor no hate for her in his heart. 

How foolish of the girl to think hatred was the only feeling capable of creating pain, of making remorse. Afterall, ‘love’ was just as powerful. ‘Love’ was just as dangerous. 

Deep down, the young siren knew the dhampir’s words were true: there was nowhere else she could go, there was no one else who would understand her, and care for her the way he did. 

In fairness, he was not fully human, he was half vampire, and his father was the great Lord Dracula to boot. He was not simple in the way other humans were. He was not stupid in the way people were. He was educated and well-aware of the fragility of egos, the slow passing of time… He did not look at the world through a mortal lens. The mermaiden knew she could do worse, in choosing someone to trust, in picking someone to rely on. 

Then again, he was half-human. She was wise to fear him, to doubt him. He may have meant what he said, when he told her she need not leave, but that did not mean she needn’t want to. But she was so far from home, so far from more of her own kind. Who else left in this region ravaged by night creatures and monsters would open their home to her the way he had? Perhaps it was wiser to stay. 

Did she even possess a choice in the matter?

Even withIn the arms of that former stranger, she felt more forsaken than she had when those evil traders first captured her. She felt so alone… Gods… 

She, too, wished not to be alone anymore. 

“Ssstay.” 

“What?” Alucard’s head snapped up at the sound of her words. “Truly?” He could not help the hope that seeped into his voice. “You wish to stay with me?” 

Before him, the mermaiden nodded, yet another human expression she had come to love over the past few weeks. “Yessss,” she hissed out, her voice still nasally from her earlier tears. “I ssstay.” 

A/N: Holy shit! Almost 8,000 words here. And to think I did it all while fighting the worst virus of my life! (See, THAT just goes to show you how strong my love for Alucard is. 

Don’t forget to Like & REBLOG!!!

And if you enjoyed it, feel free to Tip Me on Kofi! 

[wangxianficrecs]

places under the sky by narie

🔒 places under the sky

by narie

T, 17k, Wei Wuxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian braces himself for what might come next, the story of how this man died by the Yiling Patriarch's hand—at Nightless City, at the Burial Mounds, as the rest of the sects tried to bring that great villain to account. "What was his name?" Uncle Gan sits back, twiddles his thumbs as he thinks. "Well, it'd be Wei something, of course." "Wei Changze, wasn't it?" chimes in a new person, and if anyone agrees or disagrees, Wei Wuxian does not hear them. His wine bowl slips from his grip and the sudden clatter of it barely registers over the unexpected sounds of his father's name. Wei Changze, slipping so careless from a stranger's mouth here in small Taozi, here of all places under the open sky. Wei Changze. - Wei Wuxian meets his grandmother. No, not the immortal one. The other one. Kay's comments: The first comment under this story just read "Oh. Oh. This was heart breaking" and yeah. I couldn't have said it better. Absolutely heart-breaking, devastating and sad, but like in the best way possible. Not a happy story at all, but instead one that leaves you feeling as if your heart has been clawed open. The Untamed canon where Wei Wuxian accidently meets his grandmother, on his father's side of the family, during his post-canon travels, while he pines away for Lan Zhan. Surprise grandma, but he can't bring himself to burden her with the truth of who he is and so simply introduces himself as Mo Xuanyu. Excerpt: "Did your sect know they had a son? He was born here, in this house. Little a'Ying," she adds, effortlessly, thoughtlessly, smiling at him. The name in her mouth is unfamiliar, a warped version of those that have claimed him before. A'Ying is a child's name, the most childish of them, and although of course it's supposed to be his, he doesn't recall ever having been that. He's been a'Xian to shijie, to Uncle Fengmian sometimes, and he is Wei Ying to Lan Zhan now, nothing else. It's not a name he owns, and he does not like the way it lingers in the small space between them: innocent, untroubled, unaware, reaching for him and offering to tie him to this place. It's instinct to look away to avoid it, to busy his hands and his gaze with his teacup, to reach for the final cake. Yet he can't stop his hearing from betraying him, he can't not hear Zhang Rufen as she continues, "They always took him with them when they went wandering, all three of them were very stubborn. I used to tell Chang'er to leave the boy here with us, but neither he nor his wife would hear of it. He would not have been so much to feed, and we were doing better by then, we could have used another pair of hands to help with the orchards as he grew up." There it is again, this possibility, this other life, offered to him with fully unhesitant regard. He tries to avoid it, but it unspools in front of him, so bright and clear, almost tempting: the seasons, the harvest, the river, the cool moist soil settling under his nails and around them, working its indelible way into every groove of his fingers, a different sort of ink. Tending life, instead of rending it. A good life. Maybe it would have suited a'Ying, whoever that boy would have become.

pov wei wuxian, post-canon, the untamed compliant, the untamed, rogue cultivator wei wuxian, canonical character death, grief/mourning, closure, sad wei wuxian, wei wuxian has a family, funerary rites, family dynamics

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[wroteclassicaly]

All these people in the gator and fargo tag complaining of people thirsting over gator, calling him a nazi and how dare people find the humanity in him but praising joe for his great job like he didnt find the humanity in this character and played him to be someone you feel for. 🤡

Then being pro munch like he doesnt have problematic traditional values either

Honestly so tired of these people virtue signaling and having no nuance or media literacy for the sake of internet points, its exhausting and they just look annoying and stupid

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to answer this, because I’m trying to stay out of things. But I’ve gotten several messages like this, and I’m writing for Gator, so I feel like I owe my take on him, which had a major influence on my choice to continue.

TW below the cut, discussing Gator and his issues:

I live in a Midwestern, republican town. Everyone here owns flags like Gator’s, has blue lives matter flags, etc. If you’re raised into that life and it’s all your family knows/the people around you know - you will likely adapt to that way of thinking as well. I was fortunate enough to be able to break away from how the people around me thought and felt, forming my own opinions and expressing my disgust for the blue lives matter crap and the flag, etc. My parents are heavily republican (carry all that side’s beliefs) and so is my brother.

It’s an incredibly suffocating and confusing environment to grow up in, especially if you have no way to safely think and form your own opinions. Again, I’m grateful I could break away and think for myself!!!!

Now, discussing Gator. I just want to say that it never said he was a Nazi! Roy was. Gator was misogynistic and racist.

I’m going to compare Gator to a character called Mickey Milkovich (now this will probably upset people, due to Mickey’s character being a gay man), but I’m mostly comparing fathers/environments. Mickey and Gator were raised by two dangerous and horrific men, who beat and brain washed their sons into one way of thinking - theirs. Products of their environment, (Mickey used slurs, had flags like Gator, weapons, drugs, and even had nazi items on his wall) and what is called ‘learned racism’. They have no safe way to think for themselves, no other people around to show them love or kindness, help lead them towards a different way. Mickey found that with Ian and was able to develop and fully nurture the kindness/goodness that was in him, and he had over ten seasons to grow!

Gator only had Nadine and 10 episodes. When she left he began to let his warped devotion to the only person he had a blood connection with - flood him, outweigh his own personal goodness. Dot said it herself when she said his need to be like Roy outweighed the goodness inside. He was a product of the father and the environment. He didn’t have his own way of thinking, not really, he clung to what was beat and brainwashed into him, trying to find love and approval from his abuser/only blood relative/only person he was around (very common).

Am I excusing that? Absolutely not! Gator was not entirely a good person, and he knew that as well! He made choices he knew were wrong, to impress and gain affection from a sociopathic, demonic man. Gator was responsible for what he did, so this is not me trying to excuse or argue that!!

The only way for him to become free of who he was molded to be (he has no clue who he is, just a weak prototype of what he tried to be, hardly anything that is his own), was for him to become blind in order to see, and start serving his time. They left his ending open, which is a great way for those of us who choose to write for him - to explore his mental freedom and further nurture the soft/good side of him!

We don’t know how Gator would act or think (he was immediately apologetic to Dot and didn’t hesitate to give Roy up when he saw he wasn’t loved or cared for, so he didn’t need to protect his father), now that he is away from the environment and the man that molded him into the character he was on the show.

Gator was still a child trapped in a man’s body in some aspects; his temper tantrums, his knee jerk reactions, his hot headed plans without thought, his bedroom items (the toy cars, the sneakers, etc), his blinding anger towards Dot for leaving him behind (not even faulting her, because baby girl needed to get out and I’m glad she did). The show also alluded to the fact that he might have been addicted to some kind of substance he was stealing, as well.

Feelings on Munch are that he’s got just as much issues, lol. And we hardly knew much on him, tbh? What he did in the past, other than what he said.

Anyways, that’s my take on Gator.

We all have the right to feel how we feel!! Hate or love Gator, see his humanity or not. Some of the things his character represented effect a whole lot of people, so they have a right to be upset! There’s a lot of different factors and feelings involved!! I only look sideways at you if you thought his torture and eyes getting burnt/cut was what he deserved, because that’s just gross!

But at the end of the day, none of us who do love Gator/write for him — condone Gator’s actions! Seeing the layers and humanity in a character Joe put his all into, is perfectly normal/okay!

Sometimes there’s areas in between, and it’s not just either/or.

But I will say that not everyone who feels this way is just doing it for internet points! A lot of people have valid points/feelings about the dislike of Gator, to which I will not/have no business arguing, you know? There’s also other people that make callout posts for clout and false superiority, without even recognizing what Gator actually did and they just pull stuff outta their ass, lol.

If you don’t like Gator fans or writers, then just scroll!! It’s easy, I promise! No one is hurting anyone or being malicious!! ❤️

[kingofthering]

A collection of fully unhinged quotes from Chapter 8 of Being Marquez : This is How I Win My Race :

“Of course there are a few crashes in my life I would rather have avoided. Going beyond the limit too often at the start of the 2011 season, regularly ending up flat on my face and losing all-important points to Bradl was my decision and my mistake, so not a problem. The crash in Sepang, when we came to an impassable, dangerous spot with no warning, was bad luck. But I had been incredibly lucky that year just the race before, and in a situation I was solely responsible for screwing up.”

“When we riders see the slightest chance of being able to compete in the race, we take it. You couldn't think any other way. At least, I couldn't. I really turn into an animal that no power in the world could restrain.

If it turns out in the course of a race that I'm actually not up to it, then I can deal with that. But I wouldn't be able to sleep if I hadn't tried.

But I'm not naive either. That time, I had to be sure my humerus would hold. "Definitely," the doctors said. "We've put a titanium plate in for you." Marc the cyborg... I kind of liked that.”

“Dr Sanchez-Sotelo didn't know me or what I did for a living when he said that you can't even clean windows with an upper arm twisted through 34°. I told him I rode motorbikes, but pretty miserably at the moment.”

“In the US, they severed my humerus and rotated it outwards back into its original position. The mechanical problem which had limited my mobility and that, obviously, no amount of physiotherapy was going to cure, was now resolved. The improvement in function was noticeable immediately. If I'd wanted to drink a glass of water beforehand, I had to stretch out my entire arm. It was the same thing with eating. My mechanics really noticed it of an evening. No one wanted to sit on my right anymore because they knew they'd get my elbow in their face! I only realised how warped and screwed up the whole thing was by getting feedback from others, because if the hands are basically where they are meant to be, you don't notice how far off the rest of the arm is.”

“My character changes depending on whether I can ride a motorbike or not. I need the adrenaline. Desperately. If I don't get it, like in the winter of 2022/23, when I gave my arm all the time in the world to heal completely and made sure just to get it back to where it had been, I become completely unbearable. It ended up with my brother, Álex, telling me to go out and find a girlfriend, or do something else to keep myself busy, because I was unbearable. I was like a caged tiger.”

“Your willingness to take risks is different depending on whether you're 20 or 30. But my willingness to take maximum risk, if I have to, remains unchanged. Now I think about things more precisely when I take it to the max. I used to think my body was made for racing. Now I say if I don't look after my body, I won't be able to race. It's a small but crucial difference. Risk management is new to the Marc Marquez system.”

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Warp and Weft

After the failed Apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley slowly take their relationship to the next level, including the prospect of marriage and sharing a home. Along the way, they must learn how to open up to each other and reveal centuries-old secrets. Heaven and Hell remain a threat—but what does the Almighty have to say?

Length: 105,497 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Romance, Fluff, Pick-Me-Up

Triggers: Brief Violence

Read it here, fic by amaruuk

*Minor Spoilers* I devoured this story incredibly fast; I still can't believe it was 100K words. I finished it in under 4 hours, and it felt like no time had passed at all. Reading it was so effortless! The prose is descriptive and insightful, yet light. I never had to reread passages to understand what was being said.

This story will definitely put a smile on your face! It's pure romance and domesticity. We start with them trying to decipher Agnes' final prophecy. Then follow them as they move into their South Downs Cottage and plan their wedding. The romance depicted here is lovely. Having read hundreds by now, the simplicity here was refreshing. It's not desperation, it's a gentle, "I'm going to kiss you." Oh my heart. Yes, I teared up at their ceremony. The attention to little details, their interactions, historical reminiscing, and anticipation of each other's needs are phenomenal. It's not that they don't talk about their feelings, they actually do make it a point to learn to be honest and open with each other, but they know they are loved and nothing is going to change that. Neither of them are plagued with self deprecation/doubt over their relationship.

The Millhouse they move into becomes a character in its own right, described beautifully. Their process of settling in, despite seeming mundane—like buying furniture and making wedding arrangements—kept me entirely engaged. It was the happy narrative I needed.

Anathema, Newt, Adam, Gabriel, and Beelzebub show up to wrap things off. We get a clever use of Agnes' second book of prophecies, and a satisfying conclusion to the events. Definitely in that Pre-Season 2 bliss. This story has one of my favorite moments with Newt, and frankly I'm surprised I haven't seen that before. There's a couple human characters that I really enjoyed as well! And shout out to Crowley and his generous tipping. Like, sure they may use miracles so you don't notice all the weird stuff happening around you, but you will be paid for it.

Mostly safe in public, it does contain sex scenes, by they are brief and not very graphic. I really loved this story! I think it was excellently characterized, domestic, and warm. You could take your time with this one, but it makes for a great binge read too!

Read it here, fic by amaruuk

[sisterdivinium]

It’s the questions that keep us going, that taunt us so we’ll come back again and again, whether we’re given any “definitive” answers which we might each interpret differently or left to wonder and imagine possibilities all on our own.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Doesn’t this line invite us to ask who Adriel might be talking to, exactly?

Of course Ava currently occupies the rank of warrior nun that gives the show its name… But we also know Ava is not a nun and that her qualification as a warrior is recent (setting aside the psychological fortitude she surely possesses as a survivor of the traumas that have shaped her past, to be sure). Even from his prison, Adriel was aware of the happenings in the outside world, be it from his connection to the divinium once used in his armour, be it thanks to informants such as Vincent in whatever modes of communication they might have had between them — so Adriel knows this, he knows of how unconventional it is for Ava to be the warrior nun. Isn’t it possible that, in this moment, he’s not talking to her, at least not as Ava Silva, the individual?

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Only a couple of months have elapsed since Adriel has been freed of his tomb and made Ava’s direct acquaintance. Why would he make a reference to the millennium spent beneath the Vatican to her while calling her by her title rather than her name? It certainly cannot be a mention of those two months, as those are negligible in the conscience of an immortal being who has already waited a thousand years for reckoning.

He isn’t hinting at a vengeance against Ava Silva, as herself, even if she is the one standing in front of him in flesh and blood; he’s orchestrating a vengeance against “the warrior nun”, the abstract class of those responsible for his captivity in the first place.

It’s hard to say he necessarily sees Areala in Ava when he says “warrior nun”. Perhaps so, perhaps not. But he does seem to see in the current halo bearer an avatar of someone (or multiple “someones”) he intends to defeat, the echoes of the past embodied in a single woman, a vessel through which their voices may yet ring after they are long gone. Perhaps he can see more than any of us can — just as he sees the wraith demons and passes the ability on to Lilith, might it not be possible for him to see something else when he looks at Ava or, at least, in the direction of the halo?

Could the halo, as once suggested to me by @ghostofcatscradle, carry some of its previous bearers’ “essence” — providing one explanation to Ava’s “meetings” with Shannon or Areala in season one — preserving some portion of them even as it inhabits another woman’s flesh? Could that be readily visible to a being of Adriel’s species and provenance, as the wraiths are?

Or could he think he saw something? Adriel is posed as a much more powerful creature than a human, with much more knowledge at his disposal. He mentions how no human can carry the halo for long before becoming somehow twisted — but what if there is truth in the reversed idea as well and his own long stay on Earth has warped him? Sometimes we find that those deemed “mad” are the most lucid, but would it be such a strange inversion to consider that this amazing being who boasts of his greater lucidity might be the greatest madman himself? He barely attempts to solve the contradictions so clear to Ava when she points out how his discourse of wanting to save the world from Reya's oppression is unaligned with his own forceful, violent methods of combat which cause suffering to the same creatures he claims to champion. Perhaps he comes from a pre- or post- logic realm. Perhaps he is insane. Maybe he is just a power-hungry sophist who will use whatever justification is at hand to legitimate his own selfish cause.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, warrior nun.” Vindication, yes, but in what form? At the end of season one, Adriel sought to seize the halo, yank it out of Ava and be done with it. In season two, he wants a fight instead of just trying to reach for it and accomplish his goals. Yes, his plans concerning Reya had just been spoiled… But if he had been “waiting a long time”, then this battle is not about what just happened in regards to Reya and the ark. It’s ancient, it’s personal. It’s not just the halo anymore — was it ever?

When Ava resurrects, is that the halo’s doing? When Mother Superion is brought back to life, is that the halo’s handiwork? Could it be sentient as some like to hypothesise it is? Or, as an object said to have been stolen from Reya, is it accomplishing her mysterious will by manifesting such powers? Or could it be that the equivalence between Reya and God made by Michael after a lifetime under the former’s spell is not as true as he was led to believe and there might be another, grander, perhaps even will-less entity pulling the strings?

Or could it be that the miracle is not divine, but Ava’s? Perhaps not even just hers, but something available only to humans, that Suzanne might carry as well, something that recognised her as it recognised Ava while she was brought back. There are no records of the halo resurrecting people…

… But it is said to give different bearers different powers. How or when does a bearer develop a new ability? Is there a limit to how many she can find and use? Might they not overlap sometimes?

Moreover, in an environment that firmly believes the halo is a weapon against its enemies, did anyone ever bother to ask whether it could do the opposite of slaughter, if it could be used for purposes unrelated to war against so-called Hell? It takes Jillian, an outsider to the Order, to voice that curiosity.

For each possibility listed above as far as who is behind performing miracles, what accompanying conclusions might there be?

The halo as a sentient object seems to open less interesting consequences than a world where a higher force has confusing aims or is truly neutral and both favours and hampers the living; or one where even common people, even “freaks”, as Ava calls herself more than once, are capable of miracles, of changing their world given the right support and tools.

We don’t actually need hard, official answers.

It’s the suggestions, the maybes, the could bes that really hook us in — is it any wonder that the more dedicated avatrice shippers are so focused on the potential for that time period spent in Switzerland, off-camera, which we did not witness?

The questions are inexhaustible — even with just eighteen total episodes, even when there was yet so much to see. If we can keep asking questions, if we see the beauty in them and how much more enticing they can be compared to a creator’s answers or incomplete plans (Mary taking vows and replacing Superion, really?!), we’ll have perhaps even more on our plates than another season would have given us. Which isn’t to say we shouldn’t mourn the loss of a continuation but merely to duly cherish what we have effectively received and give it its due attention.

It’s what’s left unsaid or unexplained, it’s what even creators might say isn’t set in stone and still open for debate (such as the halo being sentient or not); the blanks, the doubts and possibilities are where we come in with our understanding or our own stories. Why? How? What if?

Keep finding questions to ask... And Warrior Nun lives on.

[fitzs-space]

Some more moblin/hybrid headcanons if it is no trouble please

I wanna talk about Creepers I wanna talk about Creepers!!!

I like making these lil fuckers very diverse. their the overworlds little love. originally made as protectors of ancient temples of the original builders, but left forgotten only for the world around to give them back love and life. let them adapt to their environments and all that, let their bones of sandstone become covered in mosses or crystals, let them become something that can survive.

Love the lil guys.

Alright but the creepers themselves? they always look a lot different then most of the Creeper moblins you'd find right? always feel a lot more aggressive or more willing to attack players? what makes these Wild creepers so different from their moblin counterparts?

ITS CAUSE THEY ARE JUST BABYS let them be! they just are trying to survive and haven't learned of life yet. Kinda like how most mandred baby's need a few years before they actually form memory's and all that, it takes a bit before some moblins form the proper code to become players. So for a while these little creeper pups will wander the wild near half blind as all of their scenes still develop. Their eyes as babys see only one colour and in high contrast, not the most optimal for surviual (more or less what you see when you spectate as a creeper in game you know?) So a lot of their instincts are keyed up so they actually survive. They are just lil guys with no arms, so they just kinda explode as a defense. Creeper pups that are born within actual packs are a lot less aggressive, cause they don't need to live the start of life fighting for survival. Not to say wild creeper pups wont be able to survive outside of packs,, its just rare, even rarer for them to become players.

So the main thing that makes creeper mobs different from moblins is mainly age. And that's also why, while most creepers are relatively only kinda 3-4 feet ish, creeper moblins are just, Huge.

But the moblins are just very diverse! lot of variation to be expected, want a centaur? got em, many arms? all for hugs. horns, long tails, short tails, big floppy ears, no visible outer ear, pig shaped, cat shaped, you want em they are there. lot like dogs they are.

They are a type that will completely adapt to their environment, part as a way of camouflage when they were pups, so you'll find as many creepers as there are biomes sometimes. Its more common to see a typical mossy green creeper, but its to be expected when so many biomes are just, green plants. depending on seasons there are creepers that are more orange/yellow// general autumnal colours. In the desert its common to creepers who look like cactuses due to how flat deserts will tend to be, easiest form of camouflage when in plain sight. There are still creepers who look more like sandstone in the desert too, as well as creepers who look more like stone itself when one goes far enough into caves. it's just more common to find creepers that match closer to plant life. So sometimes one will see stonelike creepers covered in mushroom's in place of the flowers what grow on most aboveground creepers.

then nether creepers! a lot more fire resistant and way less likely to explode. They will puff smoke a lot more in place of the exploding. territorial things they are, but that's to be expected with most nether moblins. Some match with the warped and crimson forest, with all the mushrooms and vines that grow on them, but Its rare to find crimson creepers due to that being the Piglins main territory. So most creepers live within in the wastes, very similar to netherrack and will glow much like magma blocks as means of warding off threats, or when they are about to explode! But its generally not super common to see nether creepers as is, due to them having lesser defenses and living in higher danger then the overworld.

Does any of this make sense? maybe not! I just like the idea of Creepers being creatures that were original created similar to that of iron golem sentinel types, made to protect temples made by the ancient builders, The ancient builders tried to make em look like pigs, because they themselves looked like pigs, but much like actual Creeper lore, they fucked up a lil But they eventual got reclaimed by nature kinda idea.

other random notes? -Doc's horns are actually natural for some creepers, they are more bone like, or are almost woodlike depending on the creeper. -the flowers//general foliage holds cultural significance depending on the pack. though most packs aren't very strict with the ideas. It used to be seen when a creeper lived without flowers they were more willing to fight, due to less flowers growing when a creeper produces more gunpowder. -the act of gifting flower crowns// placing flowers on a creeper IS however a very significant thing that many packs still practice, and has led to a few awkward conversations between Doc, Ren and Renbob a few times,,, -that very much is AwesomeDude that I drew with the four arms up there. -Python is a nether born creeper! one that lived in the wastes, that's why his texturing was all red/white like. -If you read my netherMutt Tango then you'll love to hear that one member of his pack was a creeper runt that was from the crimson forests. she was a centaur type and she would not hesitate to throw the angry flaming mutt baby into a bag on her saddle until he calmed his ass down /hj.

[their-destinys-writer]

Akuma Flashpoint - Chapter 1

Art by @carolgpr (thank you so much again for this fantastic work)

Rated: M

Chapters: 1/?

Summary: It was over. Gabriel was in jail, the butterfly miraculous had been recovered, Emelie was in recovery and the heroes knew their identities. All that was left was the sentencing of Gabriel, and they could finally, after eight years of superhero work, close that chapter of their lives. But when Gabriel escapes for one last hurrah, and akuma, things didn't resolve quickly. One ill-timed wish warps reality around Marinette, and she suddenly finds herself in a world where nothing is right, and Hawkmoth is winning.

Canon compliant up to Season 3, Episode 'Ladybug'. Miracle Queen never happened. Canon divergent from that point forward, but might borrow a few details from later seasons. Very loosely inspired by DC's Flashpoint Paradox (the animated movie). Updates on the last Monday of every month.

Ao3 | Wattpad

A/N: I'm super happy to be sharing this story, finally! For the record, I already have up to Chapter 10 of this story written, so it's not one that's going to suddenly be abandoned. I already have the end of it and everything, and if I manage to get a few chapters further ahead, I might consider posting more than once a month. But that will depend on how it goes. Enjoy what I hope becomes a wild ride for your feelings!

Next

Distorted Reality

It was over. After years of fighting, of struggling with knowing the truth, it was finally over. Hawkmoth was defeated. But at a price.

Team Miraculous never had intentions of releasing Hawkmoth’s identity to the public. Ladybug gave him the chance to quietly return the butterfly miraculous and let him move on with his life. But Gabriel Agreste was tougher than the smell of dog excrement under a person’s shoe. Even after Nathalie betrayed him and Adrien begged him to give up, the man refused. And soon enough, law enforcement intervened.

Gabriel was then arrested and made to wait for the justice system to do its work.

It was a bittersweet ending for the team, but it didn’t stop them from having a small get-together the day before he was convicted. Everyone arrived at Marinette and Adrien’s apartment as a team, for what they hoped would be the last time. There were kwamis flying about. Teammates who had never interacted befriended each other. But for Adrien, it was inevitable to hear forms of condolences, as if he had lost his father.

“It’s not like he was ever there,” Adrien complained at the end of the night, when the most trusted team members where the only ones left sitting around a coffee table. “How can you lose someone you never actually had in the first place?”

“They’re just saying what they think is respectful,” Luka sighed, pulling back the few bangs that had fallen down his brushed back hair. “They don’t know what else to say, and they don’t want to be rude to you by saying what they really think.”

“I’m sure that whatever they think, I’ve already thought of it.” Adrien took a sip of his glass of wine.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that,” Nino added, giving his best friend a light pat on the shoulder. “But what matters is that you know and helped put his stiff ass in jail.”

Adrien snorted.

“They have a point,” Marinette said, cozying up on his other side, holding a glass of her own with both hands. “Besides, we gave him a chance. It’s not your fault, or any of ours, that he didn’t take our offer.”

“Ridiculous,” Chloé said under her breath, before taking a swig of the bottle she was holding. “Utterly ridiculous.”

“How much of that have you had?” Alya asked, as she took the bottle from the blonde.

“Clearly, not enough, if I can still understand all of you.”

“Half of that bottle and two glasses earlier,” Kagami responded instead.

“Snitch,” Chloé scoffed. She tried stealing the bottle back, but Alya gave it to Nino to keep it away. She huffed before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Marinette sighed. “After eight years, I was starting to think we’d never get those miraculouses back.”

“Hear, hear.” Nino lifted the bottle.

“It’s only too bad he didn’t give it up willingly,” Adrien muttered, slightly sinking into the chair. “Would’ve been nice if he had shown at least one last shred of humanity before getting taken.”

“Screw your pops,” Nino said after taking a mouthful of wine. “He doesn’t deserve your pity or good wishes. You said it yourself when we found out his identity. The dude’s irredeemable.”

“Alya—”

“Got it.” Said woman pried the bottle away from her fiancé.

“Hey, I’m not Chloé level buzzed yet,” he complained, beanie slightly askew.

“Pah-lease,” the blonde in question said as she entered the room with a new bottle. “You wish you had my alcohol tolerance.”

As if the universe wanted to contradict her statement, Chloé missed the sofa by an inch, her butt falling to the carpet instead. She cleared her throat and wiggled about, trying to play it off as if planned.

“Smooth,” Luka commented.

Kagami, on the other hand, rolled her eyes as she got up from her chair and took the new bottle away. Chloé protested, but her drunken state made her a pathetic fighter.

“The hearing is in less than twenty-four hours,” Kagami stated. “Do you all plan on being hungover tomorrow?”

“Maybe,” Nino shrugged.

“Guys, Kagami’s right,” Alya said dejectedly, placing her own glass on the coffee table. “We gotta be responsible for one more night. Marinette, I expected better from you.”

Marinette gasped. “How dare you. I’ve only had two glasses—”

“Two and a half,” Adrien corrected.

“Shh.” He chuckled at her antics. “I am the most responsible woman in this group. I am Ladybug: Queen of responsibility.”

“Until you become Lady Noire: Lady of puns.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m on the side of truth tonight. That’s Kagami’s.”

“Traitor.”

The rest of the group groaned as Marinette and Adrien playfully bickered. Although they were used to it, Marinette knew it was still slightly annoying for them. But she didn’t care. She enjoyed these moments with Adrien. It reminded her of all the reasons she said yes to his proposal. Of why she had moved in with him and often imagined just running off to city hall, instead of waiting for the wedding they were planning.

“I swear, if you two don’t stop—”

But Nino didn’t get to finish his sentence. There was a sudden collective emergency alarm resounding around the room, coming from all their phones. A sound that had not been heard for three months already. Everyone quietly checked their notifications, hoping that it was not what they thought it was. Only to be sorely disappointed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Adrien breathed.

Kagami was the first standing to grab the remote. When the television turned on, they were immediately greeted by Nadja Chamack on the streets, reporting their worst fear.

“Police suspect that Agreste had help in his escape from prison. Unfortunately, they’ve yet to find his whereabouts at this moment. In the meantime, an akuma calling herself The Genie has been terrorizing the city, demanding Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculouses—”

“TIKKI!” Marinette called towards the kitchen. It only took a second for seven kwamis to zip into the living room.

“We heard!” Tikki said, worried. “We have to stop and find him!”

“Wait!” Chloé intervened, struggling to stand up. “How are we supposed to stop him when we’re in this state?!”

“I’m-hic-with Chloé,” Nino hiccupped.

“Just when you think it’s safe to drink,” Adrien lamented.

“Okay, who drank the least?” Marinette asked. Kagami, Luka and Alya raised their hands. “Okay, you three and I will go on ahead. Adrien, you get these two something to lower the buzz and come as soon as you’re ready.”

“You really think that’s safe?”

“We have to move before he gets away,” Marinette reasoned. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Adrien’s features hardened, as he nodded in understanding. Several magic phrases later, Ladybug, Rena Rouge, Ryuko and Viperion were running through the balcony doors and jumping over the rooftops. After several blocks, they arrived at the source of the commotion.

From their vantage point on top of a building, what they saw could only be described as bizarre. Some people were running away from what looked like giant versions of cute things, like dogs, cats, hamsters, and a snake. Others seemed to be… happy crying? That, while holding either objects or people.

“I don’t understand,” Ryuko muttered, her eyes scanning across the street.

“Talk about weird,” Rena Rouge agreed.

“What’s our move, Boss?” Viperion turned to Ladybug.

“We need to find the akuma first. Let’s split up, and whomever finds it first, call the rest.”

The team nodded, immediately running to separate directions. Ladybug, on the other hand, couldn’t help but search in the direction of Master Fu’s massage parlor: where they had last seen the butterfly miraculous. She had to know if the old guardian was okay, if Gabriel hurt him in any way to get the miraculous back.

When she entered the building where his parlor was, the first thing she noticed was how the door was ajar. Ladybug took a deep breath, holding to her yoyo tightly as she neared the entrance. She slowly exhaled.

BAM

Ladybug kicked the door fully open, just as it was illuminated by lightning from the window. The place was a mess. There was dirt everywhere from the plants. But most importantly to her, at that time, was the small old man unconscious on the ground.

“Master Fu!” Ladybug slid to her knees and took him in her arms. There was a drip of blood flowing from his temple, seeming to be caused by a blunt object. “Please, wake up. Master!”

There was a low groan, allowing Ladybug to release a breath of relief.

“The box,” he croaked.

The superheroine frowned, her eyes quickly scanning the room. While the phonograph was splayed across the floor in two pieces, the compartment containing the miracle box seemed intact.

“The box is fine. Whoever did this didn’t—”

“No.” Master Fu started checking his pockets. “The box. With the butterfly miraculous. It’s gone. Nooroo is gone.”

It was true then. It really was Hawkmoth out there. Whoever broke in must’ve entered when Master Fu was in the middle of one of his therapy sessions with Nooroo. The poor little thing had been through so much.

“Do you remember who did this?” she asked. “Was it Gabriel?”

“I don’t—I don’t remember,” the old man said groggily. “I can’t think straight.”

Ladybug immediately opened her communicator and called emergency services, giving the address they needed to send an ambulance. While they waited, she took several blankets to rest his head. She looked around the room, hoping to find any clues on the perpetrator.

Had it been Gabriel, or whoever broke him out of jail? Or both? Who could have such a connection with him to want him free? It couldn’t be Nathalie. She had left for Tibet once her testimony was given to the authorities. She was in charge of overseeing Emelie’s recovery in the Guardians Temple, thus had no reason to help Gabriel.

Neither Mrs. Bourgeois nor Mrs. Tsurugi wanted anything to do with them, much less when they knew it could damage the strained relationships they already had with their daughters. The Gabriel company cut all ties with him, and none of his employees remained loyal. Who else knew him well enough to feel sympathy for him?

* * *

Ladybug was back swinging on the rooftops during light rain, after the ambulance took Master Fu to the hospital. Normally she would have gone with him, but Mr. Raincomprix of the Police Department promised to have guards keeping an eye on him. So, for the moment, Master Fu would be under the authorities care.

With one less problem to worry about, Ladybug was able to go back into the real battle. Following the tracking device in her communicator, she ran towards her team’s signals as fast as she could. She jumped down the building right next to Rena Rouge’s mark.

“I’m here!” she announced, turning to the fox heroine. “What’s the…status.”

Where a superheroine was supposed to be standing, instead there was a woman in a big, puffy wedding dress. Fighting off small dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous!” Rena Rouge complained, using a bouquet as if it was her flute. Petals flying everywhere. “Let,” swing, “me,” swing, “pass!”

Without skipping a beat, Ladybug used her yoyo to beat away the little critters. Meanwhile, Rena Rouge growled, as she tried to lift her pompous skirt.

“This akuma is annoying,” she said through gritted teeth.

“How did this happen?” Ladybug placed her weapon back on her waist.

“The Genie happened,” Rena huffed, kicking off a pair of high heels. “She showed up, and all she did was look at me and say: Your wish is my command. Next thing I know, I’m walking around in this.”

She gestured towards the dress. Ladybug tapped her lips with a finger.

“So, she probably grants wishes,” she thought out loud. “We need to find Ryuko and Viperion.”

“I think they were around the corner.”

With a nod, the two women ran in the direction they hoped their teammates would be. However, just as they turned the corner, several large toys invaded their path. Before Ladybug could do anything, they took Rena Rouge, yelling ‘Our Princess’ over and over. Ladybug was about to go after them, when she heard Viperion’s distinctive voice yelling reassurances.

She turned to see Ryuko floating upwards, as Viperion did his best to keep her grounded.

“Don’t let go, Viperion!” Ryuko yelled.

“I swear, I won’t!”

“I will kick your ass if you do!”

“I know!”

“What the hell is going on?” The voice of Chat Noir said beside her. Although she was relieved to hear his voice, her attention was on the floating heroine.

“They’re…getting wishes granted,” Ladybug answered absentmindedly, her head tilting.

“Ryuko wanted to float?”

Ladybug squinted.

“With her powers, that doesn’t make sense,” she thought out loud. She placed a hand on her chin. “Maybe it’s about how—”

“LOOK OUT!”

Chat Noir slammed his body against hers, sending them both several feet away from a dog shooting lasers out of their eyes.

“Why would anyone want a dog who shoots lasers?!” Ladybug yelped.

“Some kid out there has been watching too many cartoons,” Chat Noir commented.

“You okay, dudes?” Carapace’s voice said from above. Ladybug looked up, but instead of wearing the green hoodie outfit, he was dressed in a tuxedo of the same color.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “I was on my way here, and next thing I know, I’m dressed like I’m going to my wedding.”

“Wedding?” Ladybug scanned the area for Rena Rouge. It seemed she had gotten away from the giant toys and was now still trying to fight in the orange wedding dress, the bouquet looking more like a bunch of dying weeds. She looked back at Ryuko. And then back to Carapace. Her eyes widened. “The akuma is called Genie, right?”

“Yeah?” the men said in unison.

“And we can assume her power is granting wishes, right?”

“What are you getting at?” Carapace frowned.

“I don’t think Ryuko wished to float, and I’m a hundred percent sure the last thing Rena wants is to get married during a battle.”

“Meaning…?” Chat Noir squinted.

“We have to be careful what we wish for,” Ladybug concluded. “We can’t wish for anything. Not even in our minds, just in case.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Carapace shrugged.

“That’s what you think,” a voice behind them said.

In an instant, Ladybug and Chat Noir rose to their feet, making a battle pose. In front of them was what looked like a character from the animated Aladdin movie. Her skin was completely blue, and she wore a bustier with baggy pants. Her nose and mouth were covered by a belly dancer veil. Only her purple eyes were clearly visible under her bangs.

“I’m not a pushover, like other champions,” The Genie declared, slowly pulling her arms back. “I will get what I wish for, and not even you will stop me.”

“Isn’t there a rule that genies can’t grant wishes for themselves?” Chat Noir quipped.

“But I’m not a regular genie, now am I?” the villain then rested an elbow on her hand, fingers under her chin. “Once I have your miraculouses, I can get any wish a genie could want.”

“Miraculous wish?” Ladybug parroted. She and Chat Noir exchanged gazes, hoping they hadn’t arrived at the same hypothesis. Before they could say anything else, Carapace had placed a hand on her bicep.

“You’re not making any sense,” he said. Ladybug frowned, but noticed his eyes glimpsed to somewhere behind Genie. “I still don’t understand how your wish could come true with the two miraculouses.”

“It really isn’t clear,” she joined, trying not to give away Queen Bee sneaking behind the villain, ready to strike Venom.

“I think you’ve been given some false promises there, Genie,” Chat Noir mocked, using his staff like a cane and leaning forward on it.

“Hmph.” Genie closed her eyes. “You really think I’m that stupid.”

With a split-second movement, Genie was facing the other way, squeezing Queen Bee’s wrist. The superheroine screamed in pain, her weapon clattering on the floor.

“Bee!” Ladybug, Chat Noir and Carapace shouted in unison, as they ran to her aid. However, before they could get to her, Genie swung her towards them. All four landed painfully on the ground, as the villain vanished in swirling smoke.

“Where did she go?!” Ladybug panted, sitting up. Not a second later, a chilling laugh echoed in the air, with no point of origin.

“Bug,” Queen Bee grunted. “I think she broke my wrist.”

“That’s not good,” Chat Noir whispered, taking off his belt to wrap it around the injury.

“I can’t remember the last time one of use got seriously hurt in an attack,” Carapace commented, holding Queen Bee’s arm steady through her hissing.

“I shouldn’t have asked you two to come,” Ladybug lamented. “Not only are we a little rusty, but we’re clearly not in condition to be fighting.”

“This was my choice,” Queen Bee retorted, burning her eyes on their leader. “We had won. I am not letting stupid Gabriel get away with this. Not after everything we’ve been through. After everything we achieved. Everything I achieved…”

Ladybug’s face fell. “Chloé,” she said quietly, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder, “He’s not getting away with it. We beat him once. We can do it again.” She looked at Carapace. “Keep her safe, while Chat and I go after Genie.”

“Sure thing, Ma’am,” Carapace nodded, placing an arm around Queen Bee. “Kick that akuma’s ass for me.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Chat Noir gave his best friend a two-fingered salute.

The original duo stood up and walked together to the middle of the street, where they stood back to back. Alert, waiting to see where Genie would show up.

“Just like old times, huh?” Chat Noir commented, loud enough for his fiancé to hear.

“Don’t we always say that, every time it’s just the two of us again?” Ladybug quipped back, while scanning the area.

“And it never gets old, Bugaboo.”

Ladybug chuckled. “You always know how to break the tension, Chaton.”

“One of my many talents.”

“ENOUGH!” A voice echoed angrily in the air. There was a puff of blue smoke, and the next thing they knew, both were sent flying in opposite directions.

Ladybug landed hard on the concrete. Suddenly very thankful that the suit protected her from scrapping any skin against it. She raised her head, to see Genie standing where she and Chat Noir had been only a moment ago. On the other side of the street was her partner, almost on his feet.

Unfortunately, the second he was up, Genie disappeared from where she was, to reappear right behind him.

“Chat Noir!” Ladybug yelled. But it didn’t matter. He still got hit on the back of the head, with enough force to make him fall on his knees. Genie raised her arm again, but Ladybug swung and wrapped her yoyo just in time to stop her.

Gotcha, she thought triumphantly.

Genie’s head snapped towards Ladybug, sending a chill down her spine. Nevertheless, she kept her grip firm on the yoyo. The problem was that so did Genie. The villain grabbed the string and started pulling on it. Meanwhile, Ladybug did her best to stand her ground, but the akuma was surprisingly strong.

“Come here, Little Bug,” Genie hissed as she yanked the string hard enough to drag Ladybug several meters forward.

The superheroine gritted her teeth as she attempted to do the same to the akuma. With little success, only managing to anchor her feet where she was.

“You’re so annoying,” Genie huffed.

The next second, she was gone again, making Ladybug fall backwards. Chat Noir had regained his balance enough to run to her side, to make sure she was all right. He had just helped her back to her feet, when she was pulled back as if from an invisible rope around her stomach. Once again, sent flying across the street.

“Why don’t you fight us head on, you coward?!” Chat Noir yelled, any trace of playfulness gone.

A chilling chuckle resounded in the air.

“As you wish, pretty boy,” the disembodied voice of Genie said.

There was another puff of blue smoke, and the villain hit his chin upwards with the palm of her hand. Chat Noir staggered backwards, attempting to raise his staff. The next blow he managed to block with is weapon, but Genie immediately followed it with a hard kick to his stomach.

All the while, Ladybug slowly stood up, trying her best to ignore the pain on her ribs. This akuma was of the kind they rarely ever saw. It was almost like she had purposely allowed herself to be akumatized. Much like Catalyst on the first Heroes Day.

If there was anything she had learned from these type of akumas, it was that they were far more powerful than the regular brand. Mainly, because they weren’t aimless. Not only was their goal clear, but they collaborated with Hawkmoth to create a more coherent plan.

Ladybug breathed heavily, her arm over her torso. She looked around at her incapacitated team. Viperion had even turned back to Luka, for his five minutes were wasted as he kept his hold on Ryuko. How did it get this bad so fast? And why did it have to be Adrien fighting his father once again?

She could see it in Chat Noir’s eyes. Yes, he made jokes and insulted his father all the time, but he was still hurting. And at that very moment, his heart was simply not in it, if the way he was fighting was anything to go by. Why couldn’t Adrien be freed of such pain?

Genie puffed out again, to appear right in front of Ladybug. The heroine didn’t even get a chance to move, before a hand grabbed her neck and pushed her into the wall. Ladybug struggled, trying to both focus on the villain and on freeing herself.

“You’re so predictable,” Genie whispered, with a menacing grin.

Ladybug could feel her consciousness wavering, as her eyes focused on the glowing necklace on Genie’s chest.

“You’re wish is my command, Little Bug.”

And there was a glowing purple light…

* * *

Marinette’s eyes snapped open. Above her was a plain, white ceiling she didn’t recognize. With a gasp, she bolted into a sitting position. She gazed around the room, still not recognizing anything of it.

There was a desk topped with fabrics, a mannequin with several hats on it, papers scattered on the ground, a floor length mirror. And she was lying on a full-sized bed she didn’t recognize. Marinette shuffled out of the bed towards the mirror, hoping she hadn’t been transferred to someone else’s body.

To her relief, she was still her. And yet…not. Her hair was much longer than she originally had it. Gone was the pixie cut and now her hair almost reached her waist. Under her eyes were heavy bags she hadn’t seen in a long while. Like she hadn’t slept in days.

But what struck her most were the scars around her bare arms. When did she get those? Did she have them all over her body? Marinette dared to lift the shirt from her stomach, to see three more scars. As if leftovers of a battle.

From the reflection, she saw something move behind her. Marinette snapped her neck towards it, luckily to see a familiar little blob of red burying herself in the fabrics over the desk.

“Tikki,” she whispered called, scurrying towards the kwami. “Tikki! Wake up!”

“Shh,” the small being said.

Marinette’s brows furrowed. It wasn’t like Tikki to be lazy. With gruntled determination, the woman poked her little friend, calling her again.

“No,” Tikki responded.

“This is important,” Marinette whisper-yelled. “Something is really wrong, and I need your help to figure it out.”

“Talk to the tail,” Tikki mumbled, turning enough to point her tiny butt towards her charge.

Marinette gaped. “Since when are you this rude?”

“Since when do you not let me sleep in?”

“Are you really Tikki?”

“How much did you drink last night?” The kwami snapped back.

“You know very well I only had two glasses and a half.”

“And you know very well that I wasn’t there!” Tikki finally turned to Marinette, her eyes with a fury she had never seen.

“What are you talking about?” she said. “You were all in the kitchen. You were there when I divided up the team before going out to fight.”

Tikki looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“You’ve finally lost it.” With that, she turned and collapsed in the fabrics.

“Lost what?! I have no idea what’s going on or—” Marinette’s eyes widened. “Adrien.”

“Wait, what?”

“Of course!” The woman rummaged through the room until she found a cellphone, a jacket and a pair of pink flats to wear. “I need to find Adrien. I need to know if he’s okay, what happened to him, if Plagg is acting the same way—”

“Plagg?!”

“—maybe he’ll have answers. Hopefully he remembers what happened last night, when we fought The Genie.”

Ignoring Tikki’s sudden interest, Marinette yanked the door open and crossed what seemed to be a small living room to get to what she hoped would be the exit. Once in the hallway, she started inspecting the phone that luckily had no lock.

“Ugh.” She grimaced at the background picture of a ridiculously revealing dress. “Whosever phone this is, they have terrible taste in clothes.”

Marinette continued tapping on the screen, ignoring a mutter from Tikki nearby about the phone. Looking into the contacts, she had to admit surprise when she saw Alya almost at the top of the list. Without waiting any second longer, she called the number.

Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

“Dammit.” The voicemail came through the speaker. “Hey, Alya, it’s Marinette. I need you to call me to this number as soon as you can. Something very weird happened. Call me back, please!”

She hung up and continued scrolling through the contacts.

“Huh.” She tilted her head. “This phone is the same model as my old one.”

“You’ve had that phone for three years already,” Tikki said loudly. Marinette stopped on her tracks. She glanced at the kwami peering from under the jacket, and back at the phone.

“You’re not making any sense,” she resorted to say.

Yet her mind started racing as she ran down the stairs. The phone was clearly not hers, if it didn’t have the background picture of Adrien and her on their engagement party. Then again, things had been pretty bizarre already that morning.

Once in the ground floor, Marinette powerwalked towards the exit. Hopefully, she would find some answers once she stepped out of that door.

However, it wasn’t much help.

Stepping into the blinding sunlight, Marinette only realized she was an arrondissement away from her apartment. She was suddenly tempted to transform, to reach her home faster. But with Tikki’s mood, perhaps it was best to walk.

As the woman marched, she scanned her surroundings. From the looks of it, there was no sign of The Genie. As if it had never happened. No giant pets, no reanimated toys, nothing strange at all. She checked the phone again, which was very unhelpful when it barely had any contacts. Tikki said it was her phone, so if that was the case: where were Nino and Chloé? Was it even safe to try other numbers?

Marinette sighed, her head starting to hurt. Just as she looked up, she noticed a blond mop of hair she would recognize anywhere.

“Oh my gosh!” she breathed, breaking into a run, eyes trained on the man exiting a café. “ADRIEN!” she yelled.

Said man raised his head in bewilderment, almost apprehensive. She called several more times until he looked to her direction.

“Marinette?” He barely said her name, when she threw her arms around his neck, almost making him drop the brown bag in his hand.

“Adrien!” Marinette sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, I was worried something may have happened to you.”

“What?” the man questioned, brows furrowing.

“I’ve been so worried, and so confused,” she pulled back, grabbing on to his biceps. “I woke up this morning and I was in a strange apartment, and you weren’t there, and Tikki wasn’t talking to me, and I couldn’t get a hold of Alya, Nino or Chloé, and everything feels weird, and—”

“What are you doing?” Adrien cut in, shrugging his arms away from her. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Huh?” Marinette frowned. “W-well… I don’t know! Adrien, nothing feels—”

“Why are you talking to me?” he snapped when her hand had reached out again.

The woman slowly straightened, staring at her fiancé dumbfounded.

“Chaton?”

“Chaton?” Adrien parroted. “You really have lost it now, haven’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” Adrien rolled his eyes, before checking his watch. “Look, I don’t have time for this, I have things to do. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Wait, no!” Marinette grabbed his wrist desperately, only for him to roughly shake it off.

“Listen here,” he said, pointing at her menacingly. “I swear that if you come at me like this again, I will be forced to get a restraining order—”

“Restraining order?!”

 “—against you. I don’t want to, but you know very well I can’t be seen with you. Or do you forget I’m a public figure?”

“Why are you threatening me? Are you under an akuma spell?”

“Marinette, it’s been two years!” he shouted, rendering her quiet. He let out a defeated sigh. “And here I thought we were past this. Just… I’m with Lila now, so just deal with it.”

Without a second look, he walked past her shell-shocked form. The words slugging through her mind, wondering whether they had been real or not. Two years? Two years of what?! Since when would Adrien threaten her with a restraining order? Since when does he not recognize his own nickname?

But most importantly… Since when were they not together?

---

Next

[bracketsoffear]

Drosselmeyer (Princess Tutu) "Another name for The Web is "The Story Spinner", and Drosselmeyer is just that. A former author who was murdered by those who feared his reality-warping abilities through his writing, yet managed to continue his final story, The Prince and the Raven, from beyond the grave. How did he manage to do that? By writing the last of his story in his own blood and taking control of an entire town once his two main characters decided they had enough, escaping the story by going into the town he ended up controlling. He turned the town into his new setting and turned a duck into a human - the titular Princess Tutu (who was really a supporting character in his story) in an attempt to keep the story on track. In the first season, he has a puppet attendant named Edel who assists Ahiru/Princess Tutu and act as a narrator in his stead. Drosselmeyer is quite genre savvy and hates it when his "central characters" stray too far from their assigned role… or rebel against the narrative. Then again, these characters are real, three-dimensional people, but he does not care. As long as he's entertained and they give him a good story, he's all set."

The SQUIP (Be More Chill) "The SQUIP is a tiny supercomputer who helps its host become more socially aware. Problem is, as a computer, it has no regards for its host's actual feelings and relationships and finds individuality threatening to its goal of making its host popular. In the musical, the SQUIP becomes increasingly controlling and abusive. In “Upgrade,” it convinces Jeremy that he must do exactly as it tells him to get Christine by throwing away his old life and relationships, starting with literally blocking out his best friend Michael. At the Halloween Party, the SQUIP puppets Jeremy’s body to prevent him from leaving or resisting when Chloe drunkenly tries to have sex with him, then Rich burns down the house to try and stop the SQUIP while it tortures him. The SQUIP eventually tries to brainwash everybody in school, then on the planet, to become happy, mindless drones all connected through a "social network." It explains its motivations in “The Pitiful Children,” saying “Their operating system's obsolete / So let's complete the chains / And get inside those brains / Let's save the pitiful children.” The SQUIP is a quantum supercomputer, so it's frighteningly good at engineering favorable outcomes for itself. Just for starters, it gets Jeremy and Brooke together by having Jeremy first spark her interest through calculated praise, then accurately predicting (and possibly causing) the death of Eminem and manipulating Jeremy into convincing Brooke that he's a big Eminem fan so that she will try to comfort him, culminating in them making out behind the school. Had it not been for Michael and his obsession with 90s memorabilia, the SQUIP would have enslaved the entire school, and eventually the whole world, almost effortlessly. It has no consideration or care for Jeremy's emotions, or mental health, or that of those around him, and no qualms about causing horrible pain and stripping the students of their free-will. The end of the show implies it's not truly gone, just unable to outright control Jeremy anymore — which fits, given that it's a metaphor for societal pressure to fit in."

[go-to-two]

So I’ve been following the ratings at my job and it’s so disappointing and surprising to see that PD is making up the lack of live viewing in delayed viewing. It’s the top drama of the season (although 911 is right on its heels). I’m just so confused by this. I saw a tweet the other day that said fans of other shows don’t understand the misery I have to go through with PD, my favs got engaged in episode 3 and then didn’t have an actual conversation until episode 9. That’s so sad it’s almost funny. I mean they have made some HUGE mistakes, they’ve completely destroyed a legacy character, written him as out of character as possible and the remaining characters have seemed pretty stagnant to me in terms of growth. Do you think it’s just that other broadcast dramas are even worse (I find that hard to believe)? Or do you think it’s that fans are so loyal to this show and the franchise overall that they are sticking with it until the end or maybe those loyal viewers care more about the cases (which is obviously the focus of the show and has been for years) than the characters development?

I think a lot of it is routine and loyalty from the average viewer. We tend to get a warped sense of the show in online fandoms because everything we engage in is through the lens of a ship or character(s). I do the same thing. I watch what the show has become and wonder how so many people are content to still tune in every week, but then I see comments on some sites (Facebook, it's always Facebook) where viewers have watched for years and still don't know the characters' correct names or remember basic plot points. There is a reliable audience in people who will tune into the show out of habit or just enough engagement to turn it on, but not enough engagement to care to turn it off when the quality turned. Or (as you said) they tune in for the cases or police aspect, and they don't care so much what they do with the characters.

All that said, the ratings have dropped. It's not like it's remained steady for years, but everything is dropping so it's still a top performer. Procedurals are pretty evergreen in the sense that they can follow tropes and audiences know what they're signing up for, and newer shows aren't having the ability to build up quite the audience that older ones did when broadcast TV was stronger.

[etovest-archived]

I do want to hear about warren's emasculation please tell me more

CERTAINLY! i want to preface this by saying that all of what I'm about to say is just a personal interpretation of a character because I Love to read too much into anything but also. Everything Is There.

To explain more plainly I do think Warren has an extremely conflicted relationship with gender and masculinity. We know he was abused, we know his father was a sexual predator, we don't know the Extent of the abuse but we don't really need to. What we can infer from this is that the first role model he had for masculinity in his childhood was beyond fucked up, and therefore his own view of How A Man Should Act has been distorted. Now obviously he doesn't Want to be like his father, but these things leave their marks and more often than not they don't even scar, they remain open wounds. (I also don't think he's had much time to address this, the timeline regarding his time in prison is foggy at best, but Emily does imply that he ran away from home as soon as he could, so I really don't believe he's had Therapy, y'know.)

Then there's the whole "I wasn't hitting back not because I thought myself better, but because I thought myself weaker" that tells us also another thing regarding his bias as what a Manly Man is: whether it be physicality or character, he doesn't think he fits the right criteria, and we all know what bullies say to their victims, they often hit weak spots. Which leads me to believe that his perception of his own gender is somewhat deformed, warped. He Needs to be a man, because everything tells him he should, but he Doesn't Want to be one, or, let's say, he doesn't want to be the type of man that he's always known. Like, for example, Bryony says Warren told her he "felt emasculated" by the fact that she was the one paying all of their bills, so she let him pay for the broadband, and then he replies: actually I just wanted to get the movie package, which of course could be a lie told because he was embarrassed, but I believe he was genuine in this, and thus I also believe that he was Playing a character. Masculinity itself is highly performative, what with the whole western constructed way of societal norms and toxicity (I'm from Italy, we are the poster children for that), so it could be said that Everyone is playing a character regarding their gender, and that Everyone should address how fucked up that is, but Warren plays a character with clothes that don't fit. He's a man, he doesn't necessarily want to be, he just thinks he should.

Now, this is where my interpretation kind of takes the highway out of canon and becomes more Hypothesis and What Ifs, but I have the "I think of nothing. I simply am not" branded with fire on the folds of my brain, so I spend a considerable amount of time thinking about it. I'm a big fan of voids, and hole theory, and how nothingness itself is an oxymoron (how can Nothing exist? If its defining quality is the lack of something, does Something exist? or is it the lack of nothing that defines Something? Fun stuff) AND I also really like this piece by Audrey Wollen. Of course, Warren's desire for the total annihilation of self is deeply linked with his trauma and his cptsd, his general suicidal tendencies, but also. What If. What if he wants to be nothing because everything he's tried has sucked him dry, if the way he's lived so far was by being chained to the Conforming Way Of How A Man Should Be. It's just a single part of his character, of course, yet I find it extremely fascinating!! Warren wants to be nothing and then somewhere along the lines this changes, I can't wait to see How this is handled in season 3 I am going to pass out now.

[thechaseofspades]

An essay about the best Disney TVA shows today

So Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur is Disney TVA's newest hit. If you follow me, you know how much I love this show. There's so much good about it that I couldn't possibly cover all of it. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how similar it is to another relatively new DTVA show that just happens to be premiering its second season soon...

Now, I recognize the irony here. The LES and Brighton are probably the exact opposite settings. I should know. I live in a town just like Brighton. There's lots of corn here. Please help.

But beyond that surface level contrast, these shows hit a lot of the same concepts, but take them in different directions to fit the tone and setting. Let's discuss...

Spoilers for both shows. The spoilers start out light but by the end I'm just spilling all the beans. Please watch the shows.

continues under the break

1. Regular girl meets unlikely non-human best friend and that's literally the title of the show

Probably the most obvious comparison. Heck, you could probably boil down any Disney property ever to that description if you try hard enough.

But, the similarities between DD and Scratch might as well end there, as they bring completely different characters to the table. Still worth getting out of the way here. I promise the rest of this post has more substance. Wait where are you going come back

2. Human best friend(s)

I've talked already about how I'm a big fan of Casey. As far as I know, she's a completely original character not found anywhere in the comics. She might be an amalgamation of other comic characters but I'm not sure. Either way, huge props for nailing it with her and making her feel like a natural fit.

So what do we know about Casey? Her biggest fixation, something we see the second we meet her, is her social media savviness. While Lunella can invent an app that warps space and time, Casey works best with the apps that already exist. Remind you of anybody?

Now, I'm not on the Andrea bandwagon quite yet. She's definitely had her positive moments, namely the Christmas episode, but overall I don't categorize her in the "best friend" tier quite yet.

I bring her up because we can bring in another contrast between elements and how these sho was use similar concepts for different results. While Andrea's social media exploits are all about herself, Casey cares more about getting Moon Girl on the map, both helping out her best friend and doing a good deed. I'm glad we've gotten to a point where the social media savvy tween/teen can be a positive trait finally.

But I want to highlight the other side of Casey, and the part that makes it so intriguing to me that Lucase has been a central focus in this show. She may have the skills of Andrea, but she reminds me so much more of another of Molly's friends...

Who did Molly McGee meet to become her first real friend and de facto best friend who she then spent the rest of the show developing that friendship??

"Mazel Tov, Libby!" is my favorite episode of The Ghost and Molly McGee, and it's gonna be hard to top. Libby is my favorite character in that show and seeing her struggling and eventually breaking just hit me so hard. So when Molly and Libby came out of it better than ever, it proved how strong their bond truly was.

Casey blends Andrea's social media savviness with Libby's irl social awkwardness and difficulty at making friends. And Lunella to an even greater extent as seen in the sleepover. But together, Lucase bring out the best in each other, the same way that Molly and Libby do in their own show.

Also shoutout to Libby and Casey for being Jewish Latina DTVA girls with hyphenated last names and Bat Mitzvah centric episodes. Maybe should have led with that parallel.

To be continued in a reblog so don't go anywhere... (link to part 2 if it's not already attached to this post)