#and probably some lore logic too

[girasolka]

what I think is great (although it’s also terribly sorrowful and heartbreaking) about the dynamic between the boys is how their age gap is handled

I mean sure they both are portrayed as actual silly teens and if they died at the age of 16 their brains hadn’t fully developed and all that crap about hormones and body chemistry yeah BUT during these years together they have been gaining more and more experience and they process it and they surely are shaped by it and can’t be considered 16 anymore whenever they want it or not

and what I wanted to say is that despite all these afterlife years count more or less as actual years there is absolutely nothing creepy about Edwin being more than 70 years older than Charles because he didn’t have a chance to gain this experience and develop during his years in hell since there were no social interactions no academy studying not even time to calmly think about anything other than how to be safe and get out of there. these 70 years must have felt as eternity but at the same time it was all the same (fear and pain and despair) so it didn’t give Edwin the possibility to develop mentally but on the contrary conserved him in his 16-year old self

so when he meets Charles (I think it being some time after escaping the hell but no more than a couple of months) they get an opportunity to grow up mentally together and they are equals in this growth

[danidoesathing]

Actually I have a theory as to why Hextech went so wrong:

The Hexgates.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of Arcane gemstones all in one place at once, all active at the same time, using massive bursts of the Arcane. And they were there for years.

(...In hindsight, it feels so obvious. There was always so much emphasis put on the Hexgates and how important they became to Piltover-so of course they're what screws everyone over. They're a literal monument of hubris, reaching up into the sky Like Antennas To Heaven-and the heavens (AKA the Arcane), infuriated by mankind's ego and belief that they could control it, retaliated. (To relate to the religious themes of S2, this would make the Hexgates Piltover's version of the Tower of Babel.))

(Worth noting: the Hexgates don't exist in League, and their Hextech is fine. If there's an Anomaly in that universe, it's probably a lot smaller (or maybe Ekko found it and harnessed it there too).)

true but they do have the the Sungates still, which from my understanding are just the Hexgates but for water based travel, and they've been around for a lot longer. Again there's more to be considered with the time loop, Mage Vik's interference in the timeline, the artificial crystal manufacturing they do in that verison of piltover, and the whole thing with the braken but still it can't solely be the concentration of hextech. Esp when League Piltover uses a fuck ton of Hextech devices and have for the past 200 years or so.

although i suppose it's possible the anomaly does exist in that universe, but it's dormant as Viktor never got blood on it or the hexcore.

(also you're so right looking back the hexgates were so obviously important to the story. between the fact teleportation was the thing that saved Jayce's life and Piltover's dependence on it for it's economy and it having some tower of babel shit going (the thing that was suppose to unite us is the thing that created more division). and that one shot of jayce reaching out towards the gates when it launching was so. god.)

[elaemae]

I would give my milk and cookies to anyone who makes a fic of this

Luo Binghe somehow finds out that his shizun and biological father had a tumble once (whether true or untrue, neither party confirms nor denies) and Luo Binghe comes to the realization that THIS is the true reason why his shizun hates him so! His biological father clearly chose a woman over shizun and to have Binghe instead - then there was the question of whether he cheated or officially left shizun to get married to a woman and-

[arolesbianism]

Was going to do some oni file digging but got too distracted playing the actual video game. Anyways look at her <3

[starsonablackboard]

managed to finish another decent ish piece so here's narinder's inutial design!! as always probably will change later

we're living by furry laws in this house so "head fur" aka hair is an option and im using it. period. another unpopular(??) choice is giving narinder a fur pattern, and don't get me wrong i love the pure black void nari, but as an artist i enjoy making up details to draw, so i indulged myself here. (but if i ever were to draw comics with him i would simplify it or just make him all-black, because repeating this every frame is a misery. fun for a one-off ref sheet tho)

not a lot of lore stuff for the guy since the idea of the au is still fresh and im figuring it all out, but there're design inspirations under the cut if you're interested!!

sooo lets go

i wanted narinder to have that dramatic sharp featured og cartoon villain look, so i took inspiration from oriental longhairs for the facial structure and from maine coons for fluffy dramatics. also i just love using maine coons as cat references. look at those things. marvellous.

from the very start (pretty much) my brain was consistently giving me images of narinder with hair, specifically dark long-ish straight-ish, so i tried to walk this mental image backwards to find the origins of it, and i think scar and ozai are my best bets. in my first sketches narinder had shoulder length hair with slight waves, but in the end i opted for long and straight. not really a reason to, just was vibing better to me

clothes are pretty standard narinder robes i think. i find it funny that fandom unanimously gave him basically a priest outfit, and i like it too, so i kept it. that red stripe gave me a little bit of a headache though, couldn't get it to look okay and not weird or tacky. i think i managed. i had to contain my urge to design him an intricate outfit with different textiles and embroidery and shit, but i try to keep it at least somewhat tied to logic and the au, and let's say that no-one was willing to do something this elaborate for narinder for quite some time

and some lore crumbs

• narinder is declawed (after his defeat that is).

see the narinder's claw relic and the whole do no evil motive. the most evil narinder directly did was the injures he inflicted on his siblings, and he did it by, quoting shamura, "such sharp claws". so yeah, that tracks. funfact i considered taking only one of his claws, from the left ring finger, because the relic is "narinder's claw" singular, but "callamar's ear" relic is also one ear and not two, so it didn't feel kike a good enough basis to take only one claw yk. so sorry big cat, all your claws are now gone

• lamb did kill narinder after defeating him. there's nothing on the pic that's tied to that fact, just thought it would be interesting to know

[really-burnt-toast]

Meet the disciples.

Here you see the lineup of Mellia's disciples!

Thyma, the nightly patrol. Thorantre, the first follower (mainly there to look pretty). Fena, the Loyalty enforcement. And Agana, the first baby from the cult and the Tax enforcement. They are totally all happy and there's TOTALLY no drama between everyone :)

You've already seen Fena and Thyma before, Fena having had her own post and Thyma being a npc from a NariLamb response.

(If you want close-ups and lore, look under cut.)

Going from left to right;

Thyma, a maned Wolf - real name unknown - was the most recent addition to the disciples. Found during one of the first crusades after beating Narinder, the Lamb ran into them at Night. Upon arrival, Thyma introduced themselves as; "Just call me Thyma." And became the Night patrol. Oddly enough, Thyma claims to be afraid of the dark and feel paranoid at night; but that's exactly why they chose that job. Staying awake and alert all night to then sleep during the safe day - that was their plan. He was fiercely loyal from the start and quickly ranked up to discipleship, which came in handy due to the Lamb and other disciples being able to keep better tabs on him.

Thorantre, a Lama - the first ever follower of the Lamb. He had been caught by the old faith after spreading "sheep propaganda". He was about to be sacrificed as well, when the Lamb freed him after just having been sacrificed as well. He does all sorts of jobs, but mainly just does worship and maintenance things. That Lama is a diva through and through, but managed to become close with the Lamb - making him also the first ever disciple. He has caused lots of headaches and troubles and is only really allowed to stay because he's special to Mellia. Thorantre is a non-committal part of the discipleship, mainly there for drama.

Fena, an Elk - the first follower found during a crusade. She was separated from her family and was meant to be sacrificed to Leshy. When the Lamb saved her, she immediately became the most useful and powerful part of the cult. Strongest, wisest - the closest friend to Mellia. A family to come back to and someone to hold up the cult when they were gone. Everyone knew she'll become a disciple, and everyone knew she'll become the Loyalty enforcement and the Lamb's right hand. She had always been their favorite, rightfully so. She's well loved and respected, though she can be strict and harsh, as per job demands. Fena is the head of the disciples and considered "co-leader" in a way. If the Lamb is busy, go to her. Unfortunately, Fena is accidentally the source of most disciple drama due to her suspicion to newbies and her romantic ties to other disciples.

Agana, a Lemur - the first baby to be born within cult walls. The Lamb was immediately smitten and coddled the little kid. They grew up raised by both their parents and Mellia. The name was a play on both her parents. Striving to be a disciple since childhood, Agana quickly grew up to become one. Since they proved themselves to be very mature and logical, they were made Tax enforcement. They're probably the most unproblematic and chill of the disciples - friends with everyone and extremely trusting; bordering on naive. They love greeting new disciples in their lineup. Also the least dramatic of them all.

Here are some of the in game models! All disciples wear the Officer suits, aside from Thyma - who wears a Yeoman coat. He was given an Officer suit too, but kept his coat.

Thorantre has a golden skull too, but I took it away because... Reasons. But that doesn't matter rn. Also couldn't get a different pic for Fena, sorry.

Fun facts;

Originally, Thyma was the grey fox model, since he used to be a Fox-Wolf hybrid. I changed that into a Maned Wolf and thus Thema became a normal fox model.

Thyma's name is known to the Lamb, but only them.

Thyma is an insomniac, but still wears the moon necklace most days to be awake at day also. They have not yet received their golden skull and have yet to accept the possibility of owning one.

Thorantre has a canon body count (murders).

Fena and Thorantre were messy exes and had a kid. Fena and Agana have children as well. All children created are non-canon.

Fena is canonically a trans woman.

Fena is platonically married to the Lamb. (Not canon in my AU)

Thyma, Latra and Echo are all OCs created from preexisting concepts - Thyma having been a prior oc revamped to fit COTL.

All the disciples personas were based on the in game things I've witnessed from them.

[violetscanfly]

long post alert

Marleyan Hange au

I've wanted to try my hand at a Marley au for ages and well I have been doing it for ages too because this got way out of hand lmao, like this is part one out of at least three (that's how far I've drawn), probably more if I follow my plan to go over the whole canon in little vignettes like these.

| next part | animatic

There's a bit (a lot) of yapping about the au itself under the cut if you want some context:

First of all disclaimer this isn't like super thought out in the logic sense and when you spot plot holes just uh ignore them ig xD this whole thing started from me just wanting to draw a few specific scenes

So basically Hange is born and raised in Marley, trained into a warrior and sent to scout out Paradis a few years before the Marley kids in canon do. In the pic there's a little bit of their childhood, they and Zeke are friends and I gave them a little sister for reasons:)

Hange's parents are fanatically loyal to Marley and so were they before they actually were sent out to war as a warrior candidate and saw how Marley uses eldians as disposable weapons, which caused them to question how things were and become kind of disillusioned. They kept their true feelings to themself and continued going along with it, feeling that gaining honorary status for their family is the best thing they could do for them and it would give their sister Essie a peaceful life.

After they come back from the war they and Zeke are promoted to warriors, Zeke gets the beast titan and Hanged gets... Also the beast titan?? Or maybe jaw I really don't know XD (here's kinda the biggest plothole so if you're super attached to the canon lore and rules I'm sorry idgaf I'm just here to draw freaky titan and put blorbo in situations so there's an extra titan now) anyway it's based on a hyena, I also thought about a kangaroo but that felt too powerful, imagine that thing jumping super high and slamming down to cause an earthquake or something.

Anyway Hange is sent to Paradis to look for the coordinate. They immediately fall in love with odm-gear the minute they see it since they're still their ever curious scientist self. This leads them to join the military, though they justify it to themself by researching what the enemy can do. They find that they actually really like life on Paradis, not the least because they can be their true self and most people accept them as they are, whereas in Marley they had to assimilate to stricter gender roles.

Eventually a certain Levi is scouted into joining the survey corps and Hange's immediately interested in him (totally for research purposes, yeah) and it takes a while but suddenly they realise Levi is their closest friend and maybe not just a friend anymore, which seems mutual but they dance around the subject until Levi's had enough and just straight up kisses them. They get together and on the other hand Hange is the happiest they've ever been but on the other they're panicking inside cause they know this can't last and the guilt is eating them up

Canon happens pretty much as it does, Reiner & co are sent to Paradis cause Hange has taken too long without presenting results. Once the kids are in the military Hange makes sure they don't blow Hange's cover even when the kids are revealed to be titans. The Marley kids are shocked when they realise Hange is in a relationship with Levi and have differing opinions on it, but Hange can be scary when they want to to shut their questions down

Shit has been going down, it's the night before they'll leave for Shiganshina and Hange knows this is the last peaceful time they're going to spend with Levi, because tomorrow they're going to have to go back to their old life and fulfill their mission.

[bantersnatch]

vianca makes me feel So So So ill why the Fuck did Real Life Vic Michaelis and Their Legendary Director Tamar Levine and whoever else deliberately make bianca—FORMERLY JUST KIND OF A JOKE CHARACTER—have a surname alluding to LITERALLY OEDIPUS and meanwhile we dont even have the finale yet and lisa looks diabolical How the fuck do u think lore will pop up from that Whta the fuck i think i need to go lie down?

all i ever do is warn people not to go near vianca because it's the worst ship ever and terrible and it will ruin you but noooooo everyone touches the cursed amulet and now look at where we are. i hope you're all happy.

it's . uhh. yeah it's So rough out here i keep oscillating between Fear and like . weird numbness. this show is so scary because in like one or two lines of casually dropped lore it can drop absolute nuclear bombs on you and you just have to Deal with that like it's fine. real ones remember how earth-shattering the "bianca and vic are the same age" reveal was. sent me into over a year of spiraling i (quite evidently) have yet to recover from.

so. it's really hard to speculate about what the finale might look like. let's see what we have to work with.

what we know about plot direction:

(generally, the meta plot of vip is just about the host's personal life, which is to say, their relationship with david and bianca. this has been more true in season 2 than ever, and if the finale provides plot progression it will be in the form of stepfamily nonsense of some flavor.)

the host plans to seek a divorce with their husband, david. this resolution seems to have had a liberating effect on them.

bianca's last name is, to me, a red glowing neon sign pointing at bianca and vic and telling us they are psychosexually entwined. we Know they went to college together, and the guiding light of the childhood friends theory has yet to lead us astray.

the vianca speculation paradigm is, in my humble (not humble) opinion, defined by two main options: they are college exes, or they are childhood friends who never escaped the codependent homoerotic teenage friendship bond. i have consistently believed the second of the two is more likely. did i also write dozens of thousands of words about the first option? why! yes. because it makes me want to gouge my eyes out less! yay.

it seems the host was repressing their sexuality so hard that it took putting their childhood hero in . ahem. what was the term people were using after that episode aired

ah yes.

It Seems The Host Was Repressing Their Sexuality So Hard That It Took Them Putting Their Childhood Hero In A Mating Press To Realize They Are, Perchance, Gay.

okay so "jocasta" tells us, to be crass, that vianca either have fucked or they're gonna fuck. and that it'll be weird and terrible yayyyy. given the host's profound repression, i think the future option is more likely. so uhhhhhhhh. that's my . that's my prediction. is that at some point they'll. yeah. not on-screen. probably. but the wrestling episode showed us that apparently dropout will let Anything air as long as everyone keeps their clothes mostly on.

.

uh. where was i going with this.

what we know about the finale:

lisa is probably the scariest person in the dropout pantheon.

lisa and vic are long-time collaborators, know each other well, and are obsessed with each other (in the way many of these la improvisors are obsessed with each other).

lisa will look like this:

when this character was described as a "sleep paralysis demon" to tamar, she said this wasn't too far off. she also said the team knew this episode would be the season finale within the first five minutes of shooting.

our season 1 finale was a prolonged dream sequence and character study of the host, characterized by massive lore dumps twisted through the lens of dream logic, and the world may never be the same. i think our season 2 finale will be even worse. somehow.

bianca cameos as setup:

casting bianca, giving her a face, is a chekhov's gun. it's a promise of some kind of payoff. so far we've gotten reaction shots, a cursing, and an argument, but no sense of closure or moment of revelation as to what the hell her deal is.

that gun is going to fire at some point. at Me.

at this stage we have two options: either we get some form of bianca closure in the finale, or our bianca moments in season 2 have been setup for future seasons. my personal sense of narrative is that we need some big thing from bianca in the finale -- but this is improv, so perfect narrative cleanliness shouldn't be expected, and i'm also hugely biased. in that i'm obsessed with bianca. so.

i'm going to be bold and predict that we'll get bianca dialogue in the finale, which would be huge for me. i miss her so very much. however, i am (again) catastrophically biased, and i'm also trying not to get my hopes up too high.

whatever is to come, i can't wait to watch it unfold! and i'm hoping we get a "cut for time" episode this season like we did last time, which might have even more tasty tasty lore nuggets hiding inside. it's going to be a crazy ride, friends. but they can never take "jocasta" away from us.

[supremefloof]

tbhx pokemon AU, pt. 4 - Enlighter/God Eye, Miss J

More Yap, explanations, extra imgs below cut

"A constant collector of information, this Pokémon is very smart. Very strong is what it isn’t." - Blipbug, SwSh pokedex

I went into this with the idea that most people, especially people in cities, just logically can't deal with a full six creatures. This is different for Heroes of course since battling is more important for them.

However, even Heroes often keep unevolved pokémon with them/don't have a full team. NOBODY ON THE PLANET in this AU will EVER see a standard meta VGC team for as long as I breath, I promise. No, Not Even X.

funnily enough, these two were the easiest to decide on for some reason. Qi Shi could've easily had a full team!

Qi Shi's pokemon, as seen here: Rotom, Inkay, Blipbug -> Orbeetle, Seviper. The little black critters are not pokemon but the Spotlight Org's drones! I really liked the idea that the robots in ep.4 look like miniature Rolycoly! there's no reason for this it just sounded like fun. look at it :D

Miss J: Meowstic-F, Klefki! she keeps them in Luxury Balls; she seems like she puts a lot of effort into her appearance. Klefki is always polished and Meowstic is always groomed!

all her underlings are terrified of that Meowstic.

Meowstic, Seviper, Inkay courtesy of @cedarwrought

Enlighter probably starts off with Rotom and Blipbug. picks up Inkay somewhere along the way, and Seviper around when he starts getting obsessed with investigating Nice. (he's different in ep.6... something happened to him in those 5 years...)

oh and blipbug -> dottler -> orbeetle

Rotom helps with all those techy things! Orbeetle and Rotom together are responsible for the Moon decoy.

idk if he should bring Inkay to the episode 4 fight, it just seems a bit too cute. However, a Malamar would eat him alive 😭he is never evolving that thing

maybe Spotlight pretends to be his Inkay instead of an octopus

I had an idea about the Spotlight Organization controlling Zygarde to some extent. not the whole thing, just a chunk of it?

dunno about this, thematically for SO and Enlighter it doesn't make sense - the only thing I could think of that's related is that Zygarde is meant to bring balance. so maybe if SO is balancing Trust with Fear or something. but its also like, about the environment, which SO is def not about. However, the point of this idea is that they can lend Enlighter a Zygarde 10%!

the color scheme matches perfectlyyyy. im a sucker for matching colors...

Zygarde 10% also breaks apart after a short while, like how Qi Shi's new drip stopped working for some reason. so that would be the random bs that lets Lin Ling win (+ GE's seviper getting... sidetracked), although it would be stacked against him anyways.

unrelated notes:

pleaseeee new episodes make genesect for yang cheng make sense some how im weirdly invested into the "reasonability" of the pokemon in this au. like i could just stick him with pikachu and call it a day but noooo the lore has to fit and stuff. my brain demands it.

for the first time in a while I used over half of my webglazes in a week? I've been super focused on drawing stuff lately because of tbhx and the amazing tumblr community <3. glaze your artworks!

what is up with pokemon sizes. you're telling me blipbug and orbeetle are the same size? why is seviper over EIGHT feet tall??

prev next

[bokettochild]

Okay! Theory time!!!!

Considering what we've seen so far of the dungeon, it's quite likely it is a Downfall Timeline style dungeon, or at the very least, as Legend said, the puzzles and manners of this dungeon are the kind you'd find in the earliest Zelda games. I have no clue about latter games, but as a player of the early ones, this is in line.

That in mind! Here's how I see it going from here:

The four doors Twilight is checking may or may not actually have the shadow lizalfoes within, but by dungeon logic, each one needs to be explored to gather a tool/key to progress past that main room that they've just entered into. Most likely, that statue gate thing Wind and Sky pointed out will only be activated by getting a tool/finishing a puzzle, and they'll need to get at all four rooms for that.

To save time, and also because it's been mentioned at the start of this arc, I think this is where we'll see the boys split off. There are four rooms, so groups of 2 are most likely, with one extra hero joining a different team (probably Wars or Wild being the extra since they are less experienced).

If I had to guess, the boss for the dungeon will probably be infected by the black blood, and we may or may not learn more about the nature of that (it would be nice, and from a writer's perspective it's a perfect opportunity) or even the source of the mysterious ringing that some of the boys have been hearing. I feel like whatever happens, it's going to involve some more lore for the story, in some way, and also, I really, really think this is where they'll all be split up :)

(Side note: if Four splits, they'll have 12 bodies total and thus teams of three all around, with no extras, so that could be fun too!)

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: ANBU

AHHHH!!!! I love ANBU fics, especially when they involve Sakura. It was such a cool concept, which was unfortunately never fully expanded upon. However, our lack of knowledge regarding the shadow corps allows for some really cool fic ideas since authors can take creative liberty on the structure and workings of the division.

In my opinion, Sakura had the most potential out of team 7 to join ANBU (at least more than Naruto). It's all about being discreet and efficient and although she wasn't strong during og, she possessed abilities that would be valuable for this. Her clever mind, chakra control, and genjutsu potential would've made her a good fit. Naruto was too flamboyant and Sasuke was too reckless and cocky, but this is just my take. However, with her new skill set from her training with Tsunade, I don't think she would be able to go down that path anymore.

Also, try out my ANBU ROOT list (some overlap).

Started: 2024.08.06

Last Updated: 2024.08.29

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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Masks by mads999 || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergent || complete

1. Sakura's Inner is far more diabolical than anyone ever expected 2. Crows prove to be cruel mentors 3. Sakura comes to learn exactly how much she hates Kakashi (as well as how alike they are, in the most terrible of ways)

Kakashi is a hateful turd and Sakura is spiteful! One of the best character developments I've read for Sakura and she certainly becomes of force to be reconned with. The ANBU lore in Masks is absolutely phenomenal and I love the whole system that is put into place as it adds for some drama (lol). Also, can we talk about how awesome crow summons are????

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Five Kingdoms for the Dead - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || M || canon divergence || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

It's been a while since I've read Five Kingdoms for the Dead, but I just remember it being absolutely great! I'll be honest, I found a lot of the mind stuff pretty confusing at times, but it was still enjoyable. Also, some great characters are utilized in this fic such as Neji, Sai, and Itachi. Makes me really wish that we saw more of Sakura and Neji working together in Naruto since I think they compliment each other quite well.

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Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

Trials of Change is actually apart of a time travel series and I have to say that it is probably one of the best of the genre! Now, Sakura is not in ANBU here, but she works very closely with team Ro (Kakashi's ANBU team) and it's a huge part of the story, so I'm choosing to count it anyway. I really adore all of the worldbuilding and backstories going on here in addition to the fact that there are breaks. Yes, the story keeps moving, but there are other things going on, like playdates, and not just Sakura trying to save the world. Also, if you love Shisui then definitely check this out since he has a huge role and his and Sakura's friendship is just so precious.

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bite me and see, said the fly to the spider - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || itasaku || T || non-massacre AU || ongoing

In which Sakura is not initially a part of Team 7. In which she wears her failures like armor and brandishes her fears like her most trusted weapons. In which I do what hundreds of other authors have done before me, and rewrite Sakura's story. Non-massacre AU. Canon Divergent. Slow-burn.

After Sakura's first team, consisting of the graduating class's "expendables," dies, she joins team 7 and faces backlash along her shinobi journey. Sakura doesn't join ANBU until the later chapters so fair warning that there isn't too much content in that regards (unless it updates). Nonetheless, Sakura views ANBU as vital to her career as it offers her the highest clearance she can get. Gaining her opportunities for information her civilian-born status didn't allow her privy to.

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The Sixth Shadow - thinknicht || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent - eventual time travel AU || ongoing

No one seemed to find it odd when little Haruno Sakura threw herself smack dab in front of a Chidori and Rasengan. Not even Kakashi stopped to wonder.(He really should have.)

The story of how Sakura came to be the sixth hogake despite all of the challenges thrown her way. I especially love Sakura's drive in addition to the political aspects. However, be warned that Kakashi is an absolute HATER (in the beginning), but he gets better! The Sixth Shadow is extremely long and I only just recently got to Sakura's introduction to ANBU, so I can't say too much in that regard.

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Daughter of Fire - justjstuff || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergence || incomplete (maybe ongoing)

Sakura got up and didn’t bother brushing the dirt from her dress. She had a feeling she was about to get even dirtier.She looked at the memorial stone one last time, memorizing the characters without even realizing she was doing it. It would serve from that moment on as a reminder of her determination. She wouldn’t let Naruto and Sasuke join the names carved on that stone.That was her nindo.

Sakura's growth throughout Daughter of Fire is great and realistic all while pointing out aspects from the original series which were flawed and dare I say misogynistic. I struggled a bit in the beginning to justify her abilities, but overall the story is really well done and the ANBU aspects are quite intriguing.

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cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || complete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Such a unique take on a time travel AU and Cut the Head Off the Snake executes it perfectly. Sakura decides that her first order of business is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

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Flowers - Idunmy || ao3 || E || kakasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Flowers only bloom just before they wilt When Sakura loses her fight against Ino in her Chuunin exams, she questions her ability to ever become a kunoichi, too weak to protect herself, let alone her village One wrongful promotion later and Sakura gets a second chance in the shape of a mysterious new teacher who against all odds is willing to put her faith in a young girl with potential and a willingness to fight. Or- a fix-it inspired fic where Sakura grows to be the powerhouse she was destined to become.

Flowers is a newer series (which has recent updates) and I love it! Critiques are made towards the medical ninja training, which I believe needed to be discussed and it's refreshing to see. In most ANBU fics I've read, Sakura is immediately put onto the strongest team, but here it's a bit different. She begins on a demolition squad, which not only suits her skill set quite well, but is a realistic approach to how she would be introduced to the corps. Anyway, it's one of my favorite reads at the moment and I really like where the story is going.

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names. - waterpllar || ao3 || T || gen || canon divergence || complete

There are no names or faces in ANBU. Everything is designed to be strictly formal, efficient and professional. A recently orphaned Sakura, however, learns that some regulations aren't meant to be followed, and finds a place in Team Ro after being shunned from her former teammates. (fic prompt from anon on tumblr: orphaned sakura in anbu with yamato, genma, and team ro.)

AHHHH poor Sakura. After her parents' death Sakura seeks Tsunade's help out of desperation to become useful. Under recommendation, Sakura's new goal is to make it into ANBU.

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Equinox - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || anbu AU || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Climbing through the ranks of Konoha, Sakura finds herself with the invitation to join ANBU and a chance to learn from one of the most renowned and legendary ninja in the world. Despite her efforts to grow stronger however, she finds the world isn't as black and white as it looks and that some truths are easier to hide than others.

I don't remember Equinox very well, but I love most works by this author sooo. Anyway, Itachi stays in Konoha and instead it's Sasuke that goes rougue. Sakura, Naruto, and Shikamaru are newly joined ANBU members and all placed on a team with Itachi and things go from there.

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stars in our eyes as we dream of the heavens (the gods walk among us, sweet child, do not forget) - snickiebear || ao3 || kakasaku || T || age-swap AU || oneshot complete

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto whispered, staring at his teacher, horror plain on his face. “You’re married?” Lazily, Kakashi looked down at his gloveless hand where his ring rested, “It would appear so.”

Sakura is born in the same generation as Kakashi and turns out as a badass ANBU married to him. This is super wholesome as it's a lot of the two of them bonding with Kakashi's genin team (Sai makes three) in an effort to help them out. It's a series so you can read more of the events taking place prior to the fic.

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Anachronistic Drift  - Elesrea  || ffn || gen || T || time travel AU || incomplete

Her plan was flawless. Save Shisui. Save the world. Time-travel, Sakura-centric AU

Sakura spends years training to be sent back in time and save the world from Sasuke. She isn't in ANBU, but rather poses as one in order to keep an anonymous status on her doings both in and out of the village.

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Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

Sakura is probably one of my all time favorite fics because the emotions are just spectacular. The story is pretty heavy on ANBU and ROOT aspects, which I always enjoy, but I wouldn't say it's a major focus. However, there is an emphasis on the unfair treatment towards kunoichi. Anyway, the characterizations and storytelling are beautifully done. Please share this author some love.

Check TWs before hand!!

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Hope y'all enjoy these recs, and please feel free to send me some if you have any!!!! I really appreciate when you do :)

[sopuu]

Imma be real for a second and say I love the way Jesse has scars on your art??? Love it when someone gives a character who's been through a lot of physical (and mental) trauma some kind of scar. It just emphasizes to me that they went through that. And the effects of that stay with them.

Sorry I'm rambling

Tldr mmm scar art prettyyyy

exactly!! jesse’s gone through so much that i’d be surprised if he didn’t have any scars. and i like to think he’s confident enough to show them off not as injuries to his body but as a part of who he is, like a collection of experiences and battles he’s overcome. hence why i have his sleeves rolled up most of the time (and also rolled sleeves…so gender…)

he’s got a bunch of other scars i never get to show off so here’s some scar headcanons as a treat! i wanted to give each major one a backstory so it’s not just there for aesthetics. the others are normal battle scars tho

ramblings about the f-bomb scar and the face scar under the cut bc there’s a lot oops. ty for the ask!

can we talk about the damage the f-bomb did to him in game. or the lack of damage even. because there’s no way this man got out of a close explosion from the strongest bomb with ONLY ringing ears for a few seconds?? not that im complaining i’m glad he’s okay bfjkfh

either the order’s armour is made of impressively strong cloth and metal or minecraft block people are very tolerant to damage. although the logical explanation would probably be the damage can’t be shown realistically within the limitations of a minecraft game (not just on the pg side of things but also they are. made of a few pixels) idk it’s something interesting to think about lore/game development wise

if it weren’t for canon depictions i’d probably have the scar cover half of his body,, but i like keeping designs close to canon depictions so a big shoulder scar it is! i had it cover more of his back since he turns when being fished down to try and shield himself

as for the face scar! i’ve debated for a long time whether to have that as the origin bc i thought it was too cruel but it stayed in the end- it’s probably the hardest one he’s had to overcome despite it being the smallest major scar. every time he looks in the mirror he’s reminded of how he failed reuben. how can it be that he only gets a small scrape while his best friend loses his life? all because of jesse’s mistakes?

some OLD art incoming so shield your eyes but these are a few doodles exploring that! i was also testing the f-bomb scar on the face for funsies

eventually though, as he learns to accept his many scars he comes to see this one as a mark of the turning point of his life, both the good and the bad, and how much reuben and jesse meant to each other that they faced the world’s end together, knowing full well of the consequences. in a sense he carries reuben’s memory through that scar :]

anyways this is so long i’ll shut up now LOL

[bamboozledbird]

IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU // Chapter 1 / Next

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Reader (You) Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), descriptions of burning, depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. For years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because you feel like something halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter. 

You can’t wash the smell of hospital out of clothes, not really. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Scott’s new-found abilities and the murky world they’ve been dragged into is making it pretty damn hard to keep his promise. 

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real and old family skeletons rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive? 

Maybe, the real question is how long will they want to? Chapter Summary: After your annual interrogation with Sheriff Stilinski, you meet his son who turns out to be very handy with jumper cables and incoherent babbling.

A/N: Does this look familiar? It should lmao. I gave into the peer pressure. All the messages and requests were too powerful. Here is a reader version of my ofc season 1 fic. Obviously some things have been removed to get rid of specific names/descriptions, so you want to read the full thing you can read the og version and check me out on ao3 (dork_knight)! For the sake of not clogging tags, I'll probably just do my reader version on tumblr and the full oc lore version on ao3 from now on. xx

Some say the world will end in fire. Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire.

Before your mother’s death, you would have picked fire. Every single time. 

You never liked the cold; never really had to get used to it growing up in central California—but the crux of your argument, the twisted logic behind it all, was that most burn victims died from suffocation before they felt the flames. A small mercy, really, in the face of unspeakable tragedy. 

In the end, however, statistics were just numbers, your mother didn't die from smoke inhalation, and there was no mercy in burying a parent before you were old enough to have children of your own. Nothing ever ended poetically off the page. Death was just death, and it was always ugly. Someone should really tell that to Robert Frost, you mused, biting at a raw hangnail.

The medical examiner said the actual cause of death was pulmonary edema; at least, that was his best guess based on the state of the body. He didn’t say that she felt everything, her skin peeling back into her flesh, her flesh liquefying into fuel, her joints flexing into contorted pleas until the fire incinerated her last nerve ending. He didn’t have to; you connected those dots all on your own. You’d been twelve at the time, not an imbecile. 

“I’m sorry to drag you through this all again.”

You flitted your eyes away from the flickering lightbulb above Sheriff Stilinski’s head and met his gaze; it was nauseatingly sympathetic. Your responding shrug was a small, little thing—more like a twitch in practice, “Not your fault.” 

Your yearly visits to Sheriff Stilinski’s office were solely your father’s doing, even if no one wanted to admit it to your face. Most mayors would use their political power to get their child out of a police station, not into it, but perhaps he stopped being your dad somewhere between the funeral and now. 

“If you could start—”

“From the beginning,” you smoothed your thumb in small circles over the armrest of your chair, attentively tracing patterns into the polished wood, “I know.” This was, after all, the fourth anniversary of your first interrogation. You’d become somewhat of an expert at being a useless witness. You picked at your uneven cuticles before continuing, “Mom put me to bed around 10:00—which was kind of late for a school night, honestly, but she let me stay up to finish another chapter anyway.” The right corner of your mouth twitched for a brief moment, “Nancy Drew: Password to Larkspur Lane. I told her that forcing someone to go to sleep in the middle of a mystery was specifically forbidden in Geneva Protocol II.” Your mom had been far too indulgent of your lip on most occasions, but that night she didn’t smile at your snarky aside. She let you finish the chapter because she was too tired to argue; you could tell. At the time, you saw it as a victory. Now, it kept you up at night, the drooping lines of your mother’s mouth spilling over the pages of whatever book you were trying to read.

You bit down on your tongue when a stray splinter snagged against the soft pad of your thumb, “Dad was out of town, so it was just the two of us. Mom always put me to bed when Dad was gone; said it was the only way she could get to sleep. Had to make sure my window was locked.” You paused for a long moment: everything went dark after this. Your mother kissed the top of your head, murmured, ‘Love you,’ turned out the light, and then that was it. You woke up in the hospital, and your mom was dead. 

A bead of sweat dripped onto your top lip. The air in the Beacon Hills police station was, without fail, sticky with heat and body odor—and it wasn’t just the oppressive Californian sun. Even in the winter, a person could choke on the stifling warmth. Idly, you wondered if it was a matter of interrogatory tactics or budgetary constraints. 

“And then,” Sheriff Stilinski prompted gently, though you both knew how the story went from here. You had told it to him and a dozen other officials at least a hundred times in the last four years. 

You bit down on your thumbnail and winced when your teeth snagged on the tender nail bed, “And then nothing. I opened my eyes, and a nurse said that you found me on the front lawn.” 

“You don’t remember how you got outside?” 

You shook your head, staring past the Sheriff's shoulder. Large pieces of dust floated through the air, highlighted by the slivers of light trickling through the blinds. Suddenly, you had a newfound appreciation for the lack of fans in the room. 

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat and rubbed his hand over his jaw, “You don’t remember saying it was an angel?”

Blinking slowly, you looked at the grim line of the Sheriff’s mouth and gripped your knees tightly, digging your fingers into fragile skin until your wrist cracked, “I should, right? I was twelve. I should remember something—that’s what everyone thinks. That’s what my dad thinks.” Your eyelids fluttered to a tight close, and your voice went so quiet you could barely be heard over the hum of the copier outside the door, “He thinks it was me. That’s why he makes you question me every year.” Copper flooded your mouth as the soft lining of your cheek split under the brunt of your teeth, “He thinks you’ll finally figure out how I did it.” 

You were scared to open your eyes as the silence stretched between the two of you. You’d danced around the subject before, hinted and spun around the heart of it, but you’d never truly discussed how it looked from the outside. Sheriff Stilinski had been kind enough to give you a few different excuses over the years: trauma, head injury, oxygen deprivation, just plain ol’ grief—but whatever caused your temporary amnesia wasn’t so conveniently explained. In fact, currently, you had no explanation at all. When you finally peeked through your lashes, clumped together with frustrated tears, you couldn’t quite figure out what expression the Sheriff was making. He leaned back in his desk chair and frowned, “I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“He does,” you cut him off. Your eyes went flinty, irises darkening to something far more ashen with the resolve of your anger. You never had any trouble reading your father’s face; the disgust was thinly-veiled between the flickers of fear. 

Sheriff Stilinksi leaned forward so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes. They were kind—more tired than usual, but still kind. They always were. That was one thing you remembered from that day, waking up in the hospital to Sheriff Stilinski’s kind, watery blue eyes, just before the entire world fell apart. His voice was gentle, but firm, when he finally spoke, “I don’t.” 

You nodded numbly and pulled at a fraying string on the hem of your denim skirt until the thread snapped. 

“I mean it, kid. They couldn’t identify the source of the fire. They couldn’t even find an origin point; no twelve-year-old could pull that off.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Could anyone?”

Sheriff Stilinski’s brow furrowed, and his mouth screwed up into a crooked line, like he was chewing on his words and deciding if he should swallow them or spit them out. “I wish I had all the answers for you. I really do. Not knowing, it’s worse than any truth.”

You blinked up at him for a moment, once again taken aback by his raw sincerity, and swallowed hard. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to have the answers; he was the one who was supposed to ask the questions. There was one failure in his muggy office, and it wasn’t the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “Not your fault.”

He looked like he wanted to argue the point, but whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by the sharp ringing of the phone on his desk. “I have to take this, but if you remember something, or if you just need to talk—”

“My dad spends a small fortune on a psychiatrist and a behavioral therapist for that,” you stood up quickly, shouldering your bag. You forced the corners of your mouth into a small smile, tight at the edges like a sheet that had been stretched too thin, “But thank you. For everything.” 

The Sheriff’s gaze darted to a framed photo on his desk. You had seen it before, on one of your many visits to his office. It was of a boy—his son, you assumed—he looked like he was around five or six at the time. He was grinning, wide enough to show off his missing incisors, and his fingers and wrist were stained cotton-candy blue from a melting popsicle. You must’ve been that happy once, right? In the beginning, everyone was unencumbered by the weight of imminent mortality. Maybe that’s what Sheriff Stilinski was thinking, too. He looked away from the photo and gave you a small smile, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You gave a half-hearted wave before wrapping your fingers around the strap of your backpack and walking to the parking lot. 

Outside, the sky was grim, a mocking reflection of the dour expression on your face. The spite in your eyes hardened when big, fat raindrops splattered against the apples of your cheeks. For a moment, you just stood there, glaring at the rain and cursing the cosmos for their utterly unamusing sense of humor.

A jeep pulled into the parking lot, and the squealing engine startled you back into reality. The search for your car keys was, of course, a considerable endeavor. Nothing could be easy. Not here. Not today. Not ever, you thought. A bit melodramatic maybe, but the weather was certainly ripe for a bit of self-pity.

You stacked your textbooks and binders onto the hood of your sedan, haphazardly throwing your jacket on top of the pile to protect your painstakingly penned Kafka essay from the rain. By the time your fingertips brushed against the cool metal of your car keys, your hair was damp and curling at the ends. 

The momentary relief was short-lived when you pressed the unlock button five times and the accompanying beep didn’t sound, not even once. For an absurdly long minute, all you could do was rest your forehead against the driver’s side window, breathing heavily until condensation gathered next to your mouth and the drizzle speckled dots onto the sleeves of your thin cotton shirt.

“If you’re trying to charge the battery through osmosis, it’d probably be more effective to smash your head against the hood.”

You jumped, and then flinched again when your keys clattered against the ground. You caught a glimpse of the phantom speaker in the side-view mirror; bizarrely, he looked just as surprised as you felt. You turned around, trepidatiously—objects may be closer than they appear n’all—and tried to swallow your rapidly rising heart. 

“Sorry,” the boy pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down and had the decency to look contrite, “big mouth.” He rubbed a hand over his chapped lips. “It’s a real problem. It’s so big, actually, that my foot just slides right in there like…all the time,” he gestured animatedly with a flat hand, a quick sliding motion, like a fish through water.

You blinked at him, slowly, and bent down to reach for your keys, “Might wanna see someone about that. Sounds unsanitary.”

“Eh, it’s hardly the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” he said, eyes widening into horrified round circles the second he stopped talking. A faint flush creeped up his neck to his ears, and your heart dropped back into your chest. Slashers and ax murderers didn’t blush. Probably. You hadn’t ever met one, but it seemed like sound logic.

“Choking hazard,” you hummed, leaning back against your car. Your fingers traced a small dent in the door, the cause long forgotten, “It’s definitely still a choking hazard.”

The boy grinned before fixing his expression into something on the cusp of severity, “I’m about 95.7% sure that anything bigger than a fist is completely mouth-safe.” He held up his fist and nodded sharply, “Make that 98.3% sure.”

“98.3?” your brow arched.

“Maybe even 98.9.” 

The buzz of a lamp post hummed above your heads as you stared at each other with little smirks until the quiet made you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and big-mouth drum his fingers against his forearm. 

“So,” his sneakers squeaked against the slick asphalt as he shifted his weight, “you need a jump?”

You pursed your lips and ran your eyes over the front of your car, “I might give osmosis another shot. 30 seconds is hardly a fair trial.”

“Of course,” he hummed, “you gotta be fair.”

“We are in front of a police station.”

“Well,” he scratched his cheek, “it’s not a courthouse.”

“Technicality.” You were slightly horrified when you finally noticed that you were smiling. The sensation felt like it had escaped straight out of the uncanny valley and latched onto your face like a parasite in need of a host. It only took two weeks for muscles to atrophy; years must have completely decimated the fibers in your cheeks. “I guess I could use a jump. If your offer was an offer and not a hypothetical.” 

“Smart choice.” The boy rapped his knuckles against the hood of your car and said, “Steel’s probably pretty low on the permeability scale.”

“As opposed to a skull.”

He snorted and then nodded towards the large lump of books and papers covered by your freshly dampened jean jacket, “You should probably move your stuff. Y’know, ‘cause of the very un-permeable battery.”

“There’s that,” you sighed and started stuffing your things back into your backpack, shaking it violently until your notebook finally slid past your chemistry textbook, “and flunking English isn’t high on my list of things to do this weekend.”

His gaze flickered back and forth, rapidly cataloging every corner and crevice of your face. You tilted your head, brows pinched, and stared back at him with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. His eyes, you noticed, became a peculiar shade of brown in the yellow glow of the setting sun and the fluorescent light of the lamppost. More like honey, you realized, more like honey than irises. Something finally clicked behind them. "You,” he pointed aggressively, “you go to Beacon Hills.”

You pushed his finger away from your face with your own, “Safe bet, considering there’s exactly one option for the next 2,000 square miles.”

“You’re kind of a smartass, you know that,” he muttered. He struggled with the trunk of the jeep parked next to your car, cursing under his breath until he finally wrenched it open with an almost guttural grunt.

Your lips parted briefly, and then you grinned drolly. It was refreshing, not being treated like some fragile little creature who would buckle in the knees—or possibly set something on fire—at the slightest confrontation. “Kind of?”

“Total.” He nodded decisively before sticking his head and torso into the depths of his trunk. “Completely, entirely, and wholly a smartass.” There were various clanging sounds until he re-emerged with a pair of jumper cables, “Never noticed that in class. You don’t really…say anything.”

You bit back the snark poised on the tip of your tongue. When people looked at you, the only thing they saw was the worst thing that had ever happened to you. You were the daughter of the woman who burned to death on Cedar Street; your mom died, and you were there. It seemed like that was all you would ever be in Beacon Hills. 

In the grand scheme of things, it was better to be no one. 

High school had been your chance to slip into social obscurity—more kids, more drama, less discussion of homicide by arson—so you took it, wholeheartedly. You kept to the corners of classrooms, away from extracurriculars, and your mouth resolutely shut. 

“I try to exclusively bring the smart and leave the ass at home,” you finally replied.

The boy’s eyes drifted downwards for a moment, and his voice did a funny, squeaky thing when he said, “I should give that a go sometime.”

“10/10 would recommend. No one bugs you—and teachers never throw erasers at your face.”

“So you do remember me,” he grinned a little and rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt before unlatching the jeep’s hood and propping it open.

Slanting your head, you watched his profile. There were moles scattered across his cheek and neck, and his angular jaw clenched as he struggled with the knotted cords in his willowy fingers. “Vaguely,” you said faintly. It was coming back to you in pieces. That was life after twelve for you: bits and pieces. Everything was made up of the disquieting moments when you surfaced from the haze and into the present. It should’ve felt like a lungful of air, but it didn’t. It always felt like choking. 

He wiped his grease-smudged hand on his jeans and then extended it towards you, “Stiles.”

You took his hand, despite the strange formality, and shook it—mainly because of the black streaks staining his pants. “Y/N.”

His fingers twitched a few times when he connected the clamp to the coordinating battery terminal, and your eyes widened. You held your breath in your sternum until you registered that he hadn’t been electrocuted. He was just naturally tweaky, you concluded. It was either that, or he had jumped one-too-many engines in the last 24 hours…unless it was hidden option C, and he was actually tweaking. Unlikely, given he was on his way into a building teeming with cops, but far stranger things had happened in Beacon Hills.  

You sighed a little as you listened to the rain patter against the asphalt and the roof of your car, rubbing your palms over your arms until the goosebumps prickling along your biceps receded into your skin. Stiles looked back at you again, and his mouth wormed its way into a little frown. His head disappeared into his trunk, and after a moment a lumpy maroon mass hurtled towards your face. You caught it before it could smack into your nose, and you clutched at the soft material until you realized that the projectile missile was actually just a sweatshirt. 

Stiles was staring at you when you looked up from your hands. A small, unsure…something squirmed over his face, and you felt a little stupid, just standing there, hoodie limp in your arms. It happened a lot—more than it should after so many years. The invisible quicksand materialized in the strangest, most insignificant moments. You blinked, completely brainless, at simple questions, stared aimlessly into your closet until your second alarm startled you into snatching the first shirt you came across—clasped at a stranger’s hoodie until the rainwater pooled on your lashes dripped into your eyes.

Robotically, you thrust your arms through the sleeves and tugged it over your head, “Thanks.” The sweet scent of grass clung to the fabric, and there was something earthier underneath it, something like evergreen. You smiled slightly, combing your baby hairs behind your ears, “I guess I forgive you for attempting to blind me in the process.”

Stiles’s shoulders unwound as he scoffed, “That was an excellent throw. First-line material, honestly.”

You looked at him and tilted your head, eyebrows crawling towards your hairline, and Stiles sighed loudly, “Okay, so I’m not an ‘athlete’ or whatever—but I’m working on it. You’ll see—you’ll all see.”

You hummed softly, unconvinced but grateful enough to not comment further. Another bout of silence fell between you, but it wasn’t so restless this time—even after Stiles torpedoed his body through his passenger seat. He fought with his keys for a while until the correct one slid into the ignition. 

The jeep’s engine hummed pleasantly in the background as you let out a soft sigh, dropping your head back against your car window. The rain had stopped somewhere between trying to unlock your car and now, but you couldn’t quite recall when. The chill wasn’t so bad, you realized, without your foul mood casting a shadow over your head.

Stiles landed back on his feet and leaned against the jeep. You could feel his gaze on you again. A tickling sensation trailed down your spine as you fiddled with your keychain. You took a step backwards and bit your bottom lip, “I should probably try start my car…y’know, before you throw something else at my face.’”

He nodded, taking a step towards his jeep, “Solid plan. A tire iron was next.”

You slid into your car and stared at the steering wheel, forgetting to laugh at his joke. You wrapped your fingers around 10 and 2 and silently called upon every deity you’d ever heard of to end your suffering. Stiles seemed nice enough, but you seriously doubted your smalltalk capabilities were up-to ‘ride home’ standards. Perhaps, you should revisit your resounding dedication to atheism, you thought, as the engine sputtered in protest a few times and then came back to life. 

Stiles flashed two thumbs up through the window. The smile on his face was positively goofy, but his dismount from the jeep was somehow even goofier. He stumbled over his large feet a few times before regaining stability. You bit back a smile when he shot you another thumbs up, this time through the dash as he removed the jumper cables from your car’s battery.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans again; at this point, you were convinced that they were beyond saving, but Stiles didn’t seem concerned. He tapped against your window before stepping around the open door, “You should probably let it run for a while. Take the scenic route home; enjoy all the Beacon Hills hotspots open past 8:00 pm on a weeknight. I personally recommend the Rite Aid or Walmart.”

You snorted, “Maybe I’ll swing by the Preserve. I hear the woods are especially beautiful in the foreboding darkness.”

“Don’t.” Serious was an odd look on Stiles’s face. You decided that you much preferred the goofy grin. “Don’t go anywhere near the Preserve. It’s officially cordoned off—totally locked down, quarantine-zone-central. Something about flesh-eating, parasitic plant life.”

“As completely real and unobtrusive as that sounds,” you drawled, “don’t worry about it. Literally every single person in town knows about the body they found in the woods.” It was bound to happen, small town and all—and ‘woman dies in deadly animal attack’ was the most interesting thing that had happened in Beacon Hills since the intersection got a Target two years ago. “I’ve seen every installment of Friday the 13th and The Blair Witch Project. If I’m going to be murdered, I refuse to also be humiliated by a cliché C.O.D.” 

The manic expression on his face softened to a relieved smile and then again to a little smirk, “So what’s a certified fresh murder, then? Not that I doubt the depths of human depravity, but I think society killed off originality a few centuries ago.”

You thought back to a house fire with no origin, accelerant, or discernible cause. Apparently, not. “You know what they say,” you sighed, “life finds a way.”

Stiles tilted his head, “And death.”

“And death,” you agreed, staring at a small chip in your windshield. The cracks had just begun to spiderweb out from the pit. 

Stiles looked like he wanted to say something, and he looked so much like the Sheriff with his face twisted around thoughtful contemplation that you couldn’t believe it had taken you this long to make the connection. The boy in the photo had grown up. How unfortunate for him. Stiles swallowed whatever it was that was lingering on his tongue and shut your door. He leaned his elbow against the window frame and cocked his hand in a stiff little wave, “Seeya at school. I’ll bring something fun for target practice—maybe grapes. You like grapes? Don’t answer that—I’ll surprise you.”

You put your car in drive once Stiles was safely a few feet from the wheels and gave him a dry smile, “The anticipation is killing me.”

What a scary place to be, you thought as you watched Stiles disappear in your rearview mirror. Anticipation. Hope. Life. You were chronically good at surviving; cockroached your way out of every horrible thing life squashed you with. Lately, all you could do was cling to your heartbeat and the warmth of your skin, until you were barely more than roadkill. A walking carcass was a far cry from living, but death would not stop for you, so you stopped looking for him. You kept treading water, took your pills, stopped existing—you were a lot like Schrödinger’s cat that way: too stubborn to live, too stubborn to die. You didn’t know what to do if someone unsealed the box and forced you to choose. That was the trouble with possibility; it required far too much uncertainty.

Your dad’s SUV was parked in the garage when you finally pulled into your circle driveway. It was a rare sight; your dead battery had disrupted your usual routine. You were supposed to be safely tucked away in your room after an early dinner—take-out usually, sometimes a quesadilla if you were feeling exceptionally inspired—by the time your dad got home from work. It was dysfunctional in every sense of the word, but it was the only way you could function in the same space. 

He used to stare at you from the other end of the dinner table: not eating, not speaking. The only way you knew he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest. After a while, he moved dinner to his office. ‘Working dinner,’ he’d say in passing, ‘budgets are due.’ Eventually, he stopped coming home altogether. It was better that way, you thought. You loved each other better from afar, where the power of nostalgia could cloud all the present unpleasantries. You wondered what he saw when he looked at you now. You wondered, and you desperately didn’t want to find out.  

You shouldered your backpack and made sure your car lights were off twice before quietly creeping into the mudroom. You could hear the buzz of the microwave as you toed off your sneakers and tried to discern the smell emanating from the kitchen. Something with garlic and tomato. Bona Vita, probably. Your dad loved their al pomodoro. 

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you skulked into the kitchen, shoulders hunched to your ears and grip tight around the strap of your backpack. Your dad’s back was to you; you could see the wrinkles in his collar from where he tugged at it when he was agitated. He stopped stirring his pasta once you reached the island. 

“Did…” your dad trailed off for a moment, still facing the kitchen counter, “did everything go alright with the Sheriff?” 

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see you, “I guess.”

“It’s just,” he rubbed at his jaw and looked down towards the oven, “it’s almost eight. I was wondering…worrying.”

He still wasn’t looking at you. You stared at the back of his head and sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. Look at me. Your brows pinched, and your back molars ground together. Look at me. 

“I called him. Sheriff Stilinski. He said that you didn’t speak for long.”

“Didn’t have anything new to say,” you shoved your hands into hoodie pockets, realizing belatedly that you forgot to give Stiles his sweatshirt back. Another problem for another time. 

“That’s not what I—” your dad grasped the lip of the counter and hung his head like it suddenly weighed too much for his spine, “I was wondering what happened to you.” 

“Oh,” you shifted your weight onto your other foot, “dead battery. I think it was the door light.”

Your dad nodded a little, “Do you need someone to pick up your car?”

“Got a jump from a friend.” Not a friend, not really, but you supposed it was the closest you’d come to one in the last four years. That was just a little too sad to say out loud. 

“Good.” He nodded again, “Good.” 

You nodded because it seemed like the only thing to do and slipped towards the hallway. You’d taken no less than five steps out of the kitchen when your dad said, “You could call me. Next time, you could call me.”

Maybe. Maybe you could if he would look at you.

[comrade-slugcat]

the watcher is a great dlc, but the ending left me rather confused and dismayed. Seeing a city with the benefactors still alive is certainly thrilling, and very exciting for anyone who likes the lore and theories. Theres just one problem. The benefactors are too big!

even if most of the areas of rain world are little ducts no one was meant to enter, the fact that there is very few rooms that they could actually fit into in their own iterators and cities is a bit odd, isn't it? even with self repairing machines you should design it so you can go in and repair stuff if needed, and not being able to navigate any part of your world in general seems like an extremely unpleasant way to build anything

so here is my theory:

the echo we follow around the whole time seems to be some sort of child, this is evidenced by the way they talk and their room. I think the city we explore at the end is not actually the real size of anything, but rather how a child might see everything. After all, when you're a kid everything seems so towering and huge. (the slugcat, being smaller than them, is of course minuscule)

my main proof of this is the hallway to the void baths. if the ancients were truly as big as they seem to be in the shop, they could never fit into that hallway, which is a serious design flaw for such an important room. I believe this to be because the echo recalls the void baths far more clearly, as it was the last thing they saw before ascension, so its more accurate to the real size they might have been.

a bonus bit of evidence is just how nonsensical the background city is on the bridge. most of rain world has obscure and strange architecture, but it all has internal logic and at least looks nice. So why then is the city made of strange grey squares and giant airconditioning units? that doesn't seem like very sensical building to me. I believe this is because its a memory, and the detail of what the actual city looked like was lost, replaced with strange fragments stuck together into the shape of a city

so to sum it all up, i believe the perspective of the benefactors we see in this region is warped by the echos distorted memories, and not a true representation of how everything looked.

That being said, the glimpse we see into the benefactors lives is very interesting and rich, and probably even mostly reliable, so dont take this as saying you cant acknowledge it at all!

[moraishi]

Shelter

Roles: Sylus, lazier Mc.

Prompt: with zero logic and lore i decided to make an au where Mc and Sylus aint that close but still know each other. And yea dont question how but Sylus *had* to use your house as a shelter. I can make it serie or something if anyone interested.

The morning was just like others, lazy yet pretty chill in your hella living room. you love weekends and this lazy friday nights. The city is quiet and everyone minding their own business. Mostly no missions or last minute calls. Moonlight hitting just the right spot on your wall, posters with quotes like ‘music is my only drug’ or ‘danger - catloaf zone’.

And the coach? It’s another story itself. Just you and your cheap cereal filled with some bland milk. Couch is so warm with your blanket on your body and pillows hugging to you like emotional supports. There are some unfinished books on the other side of your couch. But now? All of them enjoying the tv like you are doing.

Tv playing some kitten snoring commercials faintly, some kitties even have hats on them while they snore. Making you yawn as you watch them a little longer.

Nothing can break this peace, nothing. So perfect. So peaceful. So..

Everything.

Which is probably the first red flag you should notice, nothing go peacefull in your weekends. Not a single day, especially when kittens are involved. So why this friday night is so pe-

Bang!

The door kicked open like fbi finally found your weird obession with absurd reality shows. Making you slightly turn your head toward it. Of course, what now? Some debts u didn’t payed or rents? Oh even maybe taxes u are completely ignoring.

But no, its someone else,

A silver haired man with crimson eyes you know so well. Dressed like a vampire lord with that black coat on his board shoulders and hands inside his pockets. That face? Kind of face that make you want to change your path or drop a smooch while passing.

Sylus. You know him so well. That damn man.. you wish it was your landlord but no. Sylus standing on calmly like he just did not broke your door.

You two recently considered as.. accidental friends or some shit like this. When you go out to missions you mostly bump into him with your cursed luck. Like some special protocore you need to take care of in an intel? Sylus is there in the meeting room. A gala where they sell a rare stuff that need to be handed to right hands? He buyed the damn gala already.

“What you expect me to say to my landlord now? Onychious leader decided to give me a gift by breaking my door?”

You said calmly while taking a spoon from your cereal. Still in that lazy half sitting and half laying position with kittens snores playing on background.

Sylus just ghosted your question and stepped in like he own the place or something, but with the way he did you aint sure if he already own it or not.

He didn’t even bother to look at your tired face as he throw some documents into your coffee table next to your sketck book full of anatomies and lottery tickets.

“Did your so ‘secured’ base got attacked or something? What with the sudden come.”

You asked with your mouth full with cereals, staring at him with two pair of bored eyes.

He finally decide to look at you, his serious face was kind of scaring. “Too long to explain, the offer you made temped me.” He said before sitting next to you on the edge of your weird couch which probably have rats living inside it. Taking the documents in his hands and already started checking the every word- no like every character in it uninterestedly.

“What offer you are talking about now?”

You raised a brow and sit up, placing your bowl of chaos aside and wiping the milk from your mouth. getting closer to him to take a glance at his documents.

He smirked at your confused expression before start talking. “You told me ‘if your bond mansion pissed the wrong devils one day you can take a visit to my apartment.’ Well, who am i to decline now?.” A one last stare to documents and he tossed them off again, standing up and already analyzing the house.

Hilarious situation, almost ironic. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You don’t have any humor do you? I said it as a damn joke..”

He turned to you and smirked with a shrug

“And yours was anything but a joke. Dont make promises you can’t keep kitten.”

You rolled your eyes and take your bowl back, taking another spoon of acidic cereal.

“Well i thought someone so ‘important’ like you would own some hotels or places for any cases. Safer and luxurious places.’

“I do. But every place is compromised, for now.” He said, peeling off his coat and flinging it onto your couch like it belonged there. “Your apartment is a better shelter to hide. Safer from my other surroundings.”

And then he grabbed the weird flowers you stole from your neighbors garden in vase. Smirking as the flower slowly started turning to.. red. “Safer yet still a mess, lucky for you i leave my marks.”

You were about to make a dirty comeback, make sure to make him regret even coming here by your weird anticts but you felt something stop on your lap, you slowly lowered your head and eyes widened as you look down to see a damn.. crow?! With a mechanical wing and eye, gawking at you and making a home to itself on your lap

“You own a crow?! Every minute with you feel like reading a ‘how to be vampire guide’.. whats next? blood bags in my fridge.”

You said with a teasing tone while your hand slowly go to crow’s little head, hestitately petting it. So not only one but two roomies now? How great. At least crow is fluffy and cute unlike the other roomie.

Sylus gave a small kick to empty energy drink cans on the floor, his hand on his hips with a slightly disgusted face. Who he is to come to your zone and judge it? Aint liking my shit? Door on that way.

“And i suppose yours is a zombie guide? Noisy mouth and mess everywhere. Will i find a dead body under your bed too? Won’t be suprised if i do” He said with a wider mocking smirk.

You just shot him a smirk back while shifting to a better position on your couch, a sure one.

“Hell you will find a dead body soon, he will have silver hair and red eyes too.”

[bitethedevil]

Hiii!! Recently fell hard for Raphael and super appreciate your master list!! I've been feasting on it and feeling inspired by the lore and the headcanons.

Not sure if this has been asked before, I was wondering what's your take on the effects of the crown on Raphael's alignment/character/personality?

We see that the crown turns Gale into God of ambition and frankly for me all the human part I adore about him are gone. Or similarly Ascended Astarion behaves very differently from before he obtained such power. Power corrupts mortals seem to be a common theme in the game.

But what would it do to Raphael? How different would Archdevil Supreme Raphael be from the Raphael we see? Would he just simply be more powerful like the netherbrain? Or would he be somewhat impacted as well since he's half mortal?

By following the logic of the other people who have ascended in the game or grasped for power, it’s true that it corrupts, and I think that it to some extent magnifies their bad traits (like with Astarion) or twist their good traits into negative ones (like with God Gale’s ambition).

I think in the case of Raphael, it would be his self-centeredness that would get blown up to twice it’s size and I think that would ultimately be his downfall. Raphael is a devil, he’s Lawful Evil, he strives for order. We’ve heard it all before and I have talked a lot about it in my analyses posts.

I think that Raphael’s problem is that he has his own definition of order where the other devils of the Hells needs to have a sort of common idea of order for their society and hierarchy to work. The plaques around the HoH describe his order pretty well (though there is nothing orderly about the HoH besides the fact that Raphael makes all the rules). He will most likely attempt to apply that to the rest of the Hells and I’ll give it exactly five minutes before the other devils aren’t having it.

Raphael is good at ‘deviling’. He would not be alive for that long if he wasn’t playing the game well. Give him too much power though and I have a feeling that he would like to rewrite the rules in the name of bettering the Hells to stroke his own ego more.

He’s calculated, cunning, all of that, but I think it’s a bit like introducing a starving kid to a candy store. What he has always envisioned for himself will suddenly be in his hands, and that power-fantasy version of himself will be proven in his mind to be true. He will be insufferable.

“It's the fatal flaw of mortalkind. Take away their free will, and they call you a tyrant. Allow them to indulge it, and they become tyrants.”

I don’t think Raphael himself is the exception to that statement even though he is totally NOT a mortal!  I think him getting the Crown of Karsus will only prove just how mortal he is. A True Devil knows that even though there’s a lot of cruelty, backstabbing, and politics, the whole point is, and will always be, winning the Blood War. Raphael knows that too now, but I think that’s sort of out the window the second he gets any power in the Hells. Then it all becomes about him. It is ironically very human of him. He will feed the part of him that disgusts him the most and because of his self-centeredness, he probably won’t even notice it.

These are my thoughts about it anyway.

(Very interesting question. Thank you for the ask! <3)