#but you know. In isolation. Taking it for what it is.

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Part two of the delusional Mark drabble. (This time with his variants)

This is a continuation of the delusional Mark! This time it's with his variants. I hope that I captured how delusional and sick the variants are correctly. Again, I have not watched invincible or read the comics cause I'm a fucking pussy so bear with me plz.

You can read it here! cannibalism is mentioned in this, and guess who (you'll get a cookie)

xxx

Mark left you completely cut off from the rest of the world, destroying any form of communication that you could use, but at least he paid for cable and whatever streaming service you wanted. So you can binge-watch all your favorite shows and movies. He didn't want to die from boredom.

You decided to turn on the news to see what's going on since you no longer have TikTok or Twitter. The news anchor reported multiple attacks on major cities all over the world: Hong Kong, Chicago, London, Moscow, etc. These attacks were caused by one or multiple persons: Invincible.

You turned off the news, taking a moment for yourself as you looked at the blank screen. Your family was in Chicago (or wherever Mark lives), and your friends! You were safe from immediate danger as you were in an isolated place.

Your assumption would be correct if it weren't for the fact that the variants did the same thing to you in their dimensions. Although you tragically died in all of them. Now, they're going to take what's rightfully theirs. Good thing they know where you are.

(They show up at the location Mark took you to.)

Sinister Mark

It was a shame how you died, but it was really your fault! Mark wasn't in the wrong; you were! If you had just been more submissive and compliant, you wouldn't have died. Mark wouldn't have to snap your neck, watching your body go limp before collapsing.

"Why did you make me do that, bunny? Why did you make me hurt you... dumb bunny." Mark mumbled as he held your head, looking at your lifeless eyes. He scoffed and started manically laughing. No, even in death, you weren't going to escape him. He refuses to let you go.

He cannibalized your body, so you'll always be a part of him. You tasted so good... your blood tasted sweet, your flesh was tender, especially the thighs: Mark's favorite part. He savoured your flesh, storing some for later whenever he needed to remind himself of you.

He even kept your head in a jar, pretending to touch it as if you were in front of him. You'll always be with him; death will not separate you from him.

Now, here you were, in front of him with fear in your eyes; the same way you looked at him in his dimension. Mark reveled in your fear, filling his body with dark, primal satisfaction. You looked the same as when he killed you. He wonders if you scream and cry the same way. Oh, just the thought makes him excited.

"I hope, this time, you know better, bunny."

Mohawk Mark

Mark gave you the offer of a lifetime: join the Viltrum Empire. If you had accepted the offer, you would've been granted special status and privileges. You would rule alongside him, be his for eternity. He wholeheartedly believed you would accept it, but you refused. Your refusal caused him to lash out at you. Why did you refuse? You could've ruled the empire with him!

Was it because the other Viltrumites will staunchly disagree with letting an inferior species rule them? He'll just have them killed! You'd have everybody worshipping you! Silence anyone who speaks out or steps out of line!

In a fit of rage, Mark killed you, punching a hole through your chest. He'd killed you like he did with everyone on the Teen Team. Your blood coated his fist as he pulled it out, watching blood spatter and gush everywhere. Your body fell back, your lifeless eyes staring into his. He didn't need you! Mark kept telling himself that as he ruled over the empire while assimilating Earth.

Yet, he spared four human males, dressing them up as you and cutting off their hair to resemble his mohawk. Whenever he fucked them, only your name left his lips as he imagined it was you. Whenever one of the males ruined the immersion, he killed him! Now, Mark has to search the Earth for a replacement.

Like the other variants, he wreaks havoc on mainstream Mark's Earth. Then he wonders if you exist in this universe, you have to. His suspicion was proven correct when he found you in the location where he knew you would be. God, you looked the same, a sexy piece of meat to ravage and fuck.

He watched like a predator, his eyes following your every move as you tried to put some distance and maybe escape, which would never happen. Mark wasn't going to let you slip from his hand again; he was going to force you to be by his side.

"Shit, you're actually alive. Was starting to think you'd die in this shit-hole of a world... and I see you're still a little, whiny bitch boy. Looking untouched, did your Mark not pop your cherry? More for me."

Prisoner Mark (his backstory is unknown, so I'm going off on a theory about it.)

He and mainstream Mark were similar when their father told them about his background. He listened to the speech, battled in Chicago, and was beaten until he was unrecognizable. He thought it was over when Nolan left... he could go back to you to shower with love and affection.

He was sorely mistaken when Nolan returned, this time with a fleet of Viltrumites. He was imprisoned for treason, having betrayed the empire and aided the enemy. For a year, he suffered from torture until his body and psyche were irreparably damaged.

He was no longer the same person he once was. He became a vindictive and wrathful man with a seething hatred for his dad... but he still had you in the back of his mind.

You, on the other hand? You suffered a slow and painful death. Mark was the one who cooked and brought you food, so when that stopped, you had to ration until there was nothing left. You cried from pain, but there was no one to hear you. Your body withered away from starvation and dehydration, and bodily functions stopped after a month.

You'd know about the chaos that was happening outside... the Viltrum Empire arrived and conquered the planet, killing anyone who resisted. You would much rather prefer that over dying a slow death.

When Mark was released by Angstrom with the promise of freedom in exchange for ruining the reputation of his counterpart, he took it. It was easy to destroy Moscow... just a warm-up after a year of inactivity, then his mind shifted to you. He wonders if you're alive.

Mark collapsed onto his knees when he found you. His mind was swept by memories of you, touching and holding, and taking you to this undisclosed space to amend problems... it came over him and he pulled you into a hug.

You were confused by the gesture, his large and bulky pressing crushing you, but Mark didn't light up. His scorched head pressed against your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent. His bloodthirsty, vengeful rage was quelled as he only wanted to be by your side.

A wonderful idea came into mind: kill this universe's Mark and kill his father! He'll take the place of Mark in this universe, and he gets to have you! Find his father and kill him! This will knock out two birds with one stone.

"I'm never letting you go..."

taglist: @hiddens-eden @spnfanboy777 @buckyshusband0 @zamfam4272 @raspberryyuuki @maxxioislost @furiousflowercreation @ghostking4m @sluttyhusband @wolf-knights @your-cow-boy @mack-thedork @starboye @boypied @sleep-0-deprived @cronasluvr

Author's note: I was originally gonna write for eight but ran into some complications! Maybe I'll make separate drabbles for them, but I don't know unless y'all request it. Also, halted writing for round 5, gonna start again once Pride Month ends, I just wanted to write some drabbles.

Also, @spicyspiders helped me with this! Shoutout to him!

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

this is going to be long . but at this point what else do you expect from me .

i've always had a Feeling that ragatha might've gone through abuse since the pilot , and the feeling got stronger with each new episode . her lines employed a lot of passive voice ; which speaks to how astronomically Low her self-esteem is without actually saying it . on top of that , her behavior blared those alarms for me . constantly blaming herself ? people-pleasing ? emotional repression ? they're hallmarks of the fawn response . you know ... one of the four f's of Trauma Responses .

now knowing that aspect of her backstory it ... Sadly makes sense . did i see it coming ? yes . do i still find it sad how it puts so much of her behavior into perspective ? also yeah .

just taking notes from her present behavior and the tiny hints given of her home life , i imagine she grew up in an overly-controlling , repressive environment deprived of love and affection . the perfect incubation chamber for one , fully fucked-up child , basically . it's no wonder that ragatha's desperate for companionship and validation — because it's something that was never given to her all her life . there's a pit where a mother's love should've filled .

with no mention of her father or any other relative , it paints ... a very bleak and isolating picture . like , no wonder she misses her horses , i think the animals were the Only thing that brought her joy in that farm . either her dad is absent OR if we consider how traditionally feminine ragatha is ( being demure , modest and passive ) , it could be a conservative household that's patriarchal ... or maybe she's a child of divorce . idk which one i prefer lol .

either way , she Might've had ... Zero Support ! i can't believe we've gotten to a point that i could confidently say i was a lot Nicer to ragatha than gooseworx was . like the implications here are Not pretty . it could explain why she's desperately grasping for Any strand of companionship she could have in the circus .

obviously , fawning comes from appeasing to The Threat , and you can make an argument that by appeasing to a non-existent threat in the circus , she thinks she's avoiding The Scenario™ .

but something is telling me that she was taught all her life that love is to be Earned . that you have to Prove that you are worthy of being Loved . and of course , not being able to meet her mother's impossible expectations , she didn't really ... get it . and now being in an environment where there's people that actually Cares for her , she's Grasping . she's keeping them Pleased because It's All She Has . seeking warmth in a dwindling fire kind of thing .

BUT THAT'S JUST MY INTERPRETATION . i'm not really completely with it but ! it's what i came up with . whatever interpretation you can come up with , it adds a level of tragedy into ragatha's increasing distance from the others . her pleasing works for Avoiding Conflict , not for Creating A Deep Connection . which is why i like that one line where gangle thanks ragatha for teaching her softball . ragatha sharing her interest instead of giving empty praise made them bond , yay !

so yeah ragatha needs to be spoiled and pampered lovingly this post is already long enough i'm going to drink water

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

So this is random but in the Blossom Reverse story does poison ivy ever think about her daughter or care I was just wondering anyways have a good night/ day

Oki dokey, so I plan to involve ivy in my story later on. But it will take a while.

And let me characterize Mom Ivy for you guys, since I want to give you some crumbs. A little spoiler Ivy as a mom is also a yandere. In my eyes, she would be one even in a non-yandere AU. When she found out she was pregnant after the affair with Bruce she was at first stunned. Ivy never imagined herself a mother—she sees herself as a force of nature, not a nurturer. But once it settles in…

The idea that she is growing something inside her, something that is half her and half him, turns into a kind of sacred obsession. This bloom will be perfect. No toxin. No corruption. Only life.

Ivy would swear off toxins and even isolate herself to ensure the child’s safety. She talks to her belly like it’s a seedling. She tells her growing daughter that daddy may be gone, but Mommy will protect you from everyone. Always.

Ivy sees her daughter as the most perfect thing in the world—a living blend of human and nature, something divine. She raises her like a rare flower. Ivy controls her environment, ensures no pesticides (aka people) get too close.

On the surface, she’s the gentle, nurturing garden mom, brushing her daughter’s hair with rose-petal fingers and telling her stories about nature spirits and betrayal. But there’s a line—and when crossed, Ivy becomes terrifying. One raised voice at her child and you might end up buried under a blooming bed of vines, face frozen in fear.

She feels conflicted about Batman, since he is also responsible for the sweet little bloom in her arms.

And when she gets captured and send to Arkham? Oh yeah that‘s her reason to crashout.

It was foolish of her to join the other goons in their plans of robbing a building. She had just wanted a bit more money to provide a better place for her sweet baby, but when Batman but the cuffs in her she knew she was done for.

t begins the moment she’s captured. Bloodied, cornered, and restrained, she reveals the existence of their child—not as a threat, not to manipulate—but as a mother whose world just shattered. For the first time, Batman sees something behind her eyes that isn’t cruelty or seduction, but raw, trembling fear.

As she’s locked in Arkham, her psyche begins to decay in silence. Her obsession with control twists into delusion. Without her daughter, Ivy becomes unmoored. The natural cycles she once worshipped feel meaningless. Seasons blur. Her grip on reality slips.

She stops seeing Arkham as a prison—she sees it as rot infecting the roots of her life. She turns inward, building a world of vines and fantasy where her daughter is still safe in her arms. She cultivates that world obsessively in her cell: sculpting figures from leaves, whispering to blossoms, assigning names and memories to plants.

She is a grieving mother redefined by obsession.

Not out for justice.

Not for balance.

Only for her daughter.

In the quiet of her cell, surrounded by creeping ivy and the scent of damp earth, she closes her eyes and breathes in the memory of her daughter’s laughter—soft, high, blooming. She knows Y/N is safe for now. Bruce may be many things, but he protects what’s his, and he knows how to raise broken little souls with steady hands. Still, Ivy’s fingers curl against the cold stone floor, the vines at her wrists tightening like promises. This separation is only temporary. One day, the walls will crack, the roots will reach, and when they do, she will take back what was stolen. And this time, her little bloom will grow only in her garden. Forever.

[hoolaand]

Max Verstappen

💌: toxic max x reader

Max was not someone who played about you. He deemed you as one of the most important people in his life. Whatever you demanded was prioritised the most. You had him wrapped around your finger and he knew that, but he genuinely didn't care. But all the good things came with a consequence.

Dating him felt like a fairytale. You never had to ask him for anything. He did it for you willingly. He did the bare minimum and made princess treatment a priority.

Opening doors for you. Check.

Giving flowers every week. Check.

Cooking food for you whenever he was home. Check.

Bringing you gifts and souvenirs everytime he travelled abroad. Check.

Gifting you jewellery without letting you know about the tracker inside it. Chec- Oh.

That was something Max wouldn't tell you. The little diamond necklace you wore all the time, only taking it off during showers that Max gave you at the beginning of your situationship had a cute little tracker in it as well. He made sure to know where you were at all times. All the time.

No, it was not a joke.

All the time.

With that, he made sure you knew what he wanted. He would never raise his voice at you. Never. He would rather explain it to you gently. Making sure his voice was soft because he hated to see you flinch. But he didn't miss the flinch when you noticed his car parked in an empty lot to a party you didn't tell him about. He liked that flinch. Your spine straightening up and your eyes widening. He took pride knowing he was the reason you made that reaction.

2 am. Empty parking lot. With the headlights of his Porsche cutting through the darkness like a freshly bladed knife.

He didn't start an argument or shout at you when he drove you home. He just simply didn't talk. He went cold. No response, no soft murmurs. He went cold.

And that made you panic and he knew that.

No flowers. No greetings. No nicknames. No gifts. No calls.

Only one or two text messages every few days.

This was love bombing. And it worked. You came crawling back, showing up on his door with tears in your eyes and apologies stuttering out your mouth. That was when the idea of letting him know where you were at all times was planted on your mind.

He was protective. Over protective. He didn't like your male friends and his eyes narrowed everytime he heard you talk about or to them. Not even your gay male friends. He made sure that they were out of the picture soon enough. Suddenly, your closest friends started isolating you. Partying and planning on dates without you and weeks later, they didn't even bother to reply back. You cried but you cried in his arms and that's what it mattered. Now, you didn't send your outfit pictures to your friends but rather to him.

With that came something, he'd never want you to know. The documents and polaroids of you. He had a file of you with every information his private investigation could dig out. Your childhood home, favorite book, pet, teacher, color and what not. Everything including your digital footprint in return of a hefty sum.

It would be an understatement if said that Max would go to any lengths for you. He pressed charges and made his legal team remove articles and pictures of you in bikinis whenever you guys would party at his private yacht because no one deserved to see you in that except him. Journalists who wrote foul things about you had their careers absolutely destroyed and never dared to enter the paddock again.

And god knows what would happen if you ever tried to break up with him. He was a man of immense power and wealth. He knew every single thing about you and had people keeping an eye on you when he couldn't. And that was okay because if you came to knew about it, you would just have to adapt to it because there would be no where to run.

[txniesha]

Complication Sylus x Non!MC Reader Pt 5

Synopsis: You wanted to get away but he dragged you back like he always does. The only question is, why don't you leave, why do voluntarily stay?

cw: angst, typos, grammar

word count: aprox. 3000

A/N: finally got my macbook charger replaced so im back to writing. I'm excited to get back to updating this regularly and even starting a new one. I hope you guys enjoy and sorry for posting this so late at night.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

The ride back was a lot more awkward than you had expected. You expected screaming and anger, not pure silence. He didn’t even have music on; he was just staring quietly out of the window. It deeply unnerved you as Sylus was a quiet man but not like this. Usually his silence spoke volumes, but you couldn’t tell what he was thinking at that moment.

When you arrived back to the N109 zone you felt a sense of nervousness, you couldn’t stop fidgeting with your hands and you really wished you could smoke a cigarette. Your phone was shattered and was barely functioning, so you didn’t even have that to distract yourself during the ride. “Here” Sylus says, and you look over at him. He was holding a box, a new phone. You accept the phone hesitantly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t even start it up. I heard how angry you were when we were talking and figured you would do something stupid… like break your phone” he says, his tone a bit disinterested, nodding at your shattered phone.

You just nod and give him a silent thank you. It irritated you that he waited the entire ride back from Linkon to finally give you the phone, but it was whatever. You spent the remainder of the ride setting up the phone and transferring your things over. You weren’t really surprised when you got the service set back up and your phone lit up with missed calls and text messages.

You looked over to see Sylus' reaction to the flurry of messages but were surprised to see him still staring out of the window. This behavior unnerved you. Usually, he would make some slick remark about your ‘boyfriend texting you’ or take your phone and power it off. You decided to ignore it and respond to the messages. You weren’t surprised to have a few from Xavier asking you to please tell him you were okay. You sent back a quick message telling him you were fine and not to worry. Zayne had also sent you a message, but you decided not to look at it. You didn’t know why but you felt like seeing a message from him would make you regret agreeing to go with Sylus.

The car came to a slow stop in front of the main base of Onychinus. This base holds Sylus’ multi-story penthouse at the very top. The driver opens the door for you, and you thank him as you step out of the car. You did not miss the cold dark city of the N109 and longed to be back in Linkon already. Sylus walked ahead of you, and you couldn’t help but follow behind him like a lost puppy.

The air here felt different, and you could tell everyone in the base was more on edge than usual around him. You felt bad that everyone had to suffer the backlash of your actions and walked with your head down. The elevator ride up was tense and awkward also, with Sylus not even looking at you, just staring blankly at the elevator doors.

The doors opened up to Sylus' luxury penthouse and you stepped out into the cold dark hallways. You were surprised to see Luke and Kieran leaning against the wall talking. They had somehow managed to make it back before the two of you. They perked up at the sight of you two and rushed over to Sylus. “We did well right boss!” Luke asks in an excited tone.

Sylus nods and waves them off. “Yes yes, the two of you are free to do whatever it is you both do for the rest of the evening.” Luke and Kieran high five each other and excitedly hurry to the elevator doors. “See you later boss lady” Luke shouts after you. “Don’t get in too much trouble” Kieran adds before the sound of the elaborate doors closing symbolizes the isolation of you and Sylus.

He turns and starts walking down the corridor and you follow behind him. You’ve known Sylus for years but had never actually been inside this property of his. The ambience here was so much different than the other properties you had been to. This one felt more like home. The place was a lot more decorated and smelt distinctly of him. You followed behind him like a lost puppy, hot on his trail, not really sure about what to do and not sure if you should do anything.

He led you to a big door with immaculate craftsmanship in the wood and it opened for him as if it sensed he was there. The room was beautiful, with a couch placed against a wall and a bookshelf lined with records behind it, both placed in front of a beautiful fireplace with leather chairs surrounding it. A gold record player was set to the side of the couch and behind that was a bed in front of a full-length window, red velvet curtains positioned to the side showing you the N109 zone in all its glory. You looked to the side and saw a small bathroom positioned behind a glass wall. The room was too grand to be a guest room. It was his.

You looked at Sylus confused as he took his blazer off and placed it over one of the chairs. “This is where you will be staying” he says as he loosened his tie, his back turned to you. “Sylus I can stay in a guest room” you say quietly. You started to speak again, but he raised his hand, silencing you. He turned and looked at you, his face stoic.

He walks towards you and corners you against one of the chairs, making you fall back in it. He grabs your face and makes you look up at him. “You left me. Lied to me. Slept with another man. You don’t deserve a guest room.” He lets go of your chin and grabs your hand. He reaches into his pocket and slips out a ring. Your ring. He slips it back onto your finger and kisses it. He leans down and gets face level with you. “Don’t try to run from me again. I need you” his voice is painfully full of emotion.

He gets up and gestures toward the in-room bathroom. “Go, take a shower. I’ll have dinner and clothes waiting for you.” He then leaves the room, and you get up and walk towards the bathroom.

It wasn’t much of one, just a shower and a toilet. The walls were lined with various body washes, shampoos, conditioners, scrubs, and facial products. You were not really shocked as he was a man who very much cared about his hygiene. What shocked you was the number of feminine products in the shower that were clearly used. You sighed, biting your lip in anger. This was just another sign that she had been here—frequently, at that.

You took your time showering and did a petty thing, pouring all of the products he had used down the drain and putting them back in their place. You used some of Sylus’ unscented washes and exited the shower.

When you left the bathroom, there was a plate sitting on the table and a pair of clothes—women’s clothes. You guessed that those were hers, and you refused to even put them on. You sat on the couch and ate dinner as you waited for Sylus.

He came back into the room as you were almost finished, and he looked at the pile of untouched clothes. He smirks slightly. “Do you plan on being naked for your entire stay?” he says as he sits next to you, crossing his legs.You roll your eyes. “No. But I'm not going to wear her clothes or use the things she showers with. You say you need me, but numerous things in here scream her.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re always so busy worrying about other people and what I do and who I see when I’m not with you. If it displeases you so much, I’ll get rid of all of it.” He reaches into his pocket and throws his wallet on the table. “Go buy the things you need tomorrow. I'm done with this conversation and we’re not having it again,” he says, his voice ice cold.

He gets up off the couch and walks to the bathroom.You get up and walk toward the only other door in the room that wasn’t the one that led to the hallway, guessing it was the closet. You were correct in your assessment and started looking around for what you expected to be there.

Sure enough, there was an entire section in the closet designated for her. You grab the clothes and begin throwing them out of the closet onto the floor. As you were digging through some of the drawers, finding more of her things, Sylus came in. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, his voice full of confusion.

“Well, if I'm going shopping tomorrow, I need space, right?” you say, continuing to throw her things out of the closet. “That doesn’t mean you go trashing my room,” he says, irritation now present in his voice. “I'm not trashing it. I'm going to pick them up and throw them away when I'm done,” you say, now turning to him.

He was wrapped in only a towel, much like yourself, his hair still wet and dripping water down to his torso. You had to look away, reminding yourself you were very much upset with him and would not be tempted.

He sighs heavily. “I told you I would throw it all away. Why are you making a scene?” he says, stepping deeper into the closet and grabbing your arm to make you look at him. “I don’t trust that you mean it,” you say, scoffing and pulling your arm out from his grasp.

His jaw tightens and you can see the irritation on his face now. “You think I would keep her things around just to what, taunt you, make you feel like she’s still a choice?” You nod your head, lips pursed. “Yes. I think that is exactly what you would do, because you’re a terrible person when you feel wronged or hurt.”

His face drops into one of stoicism and his grip loosens. He grabs your face gently. “Is that really what you think of me? Some manipulative dickhead who goes to extreme measures just to keep you around?” Yes, you say to yourself in your mind.

“I know what I’ve done to you in the past twenty-four hours is a bit extreme, but I just don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I don't know what you want from me, and I don’t know how to ask you without you blowing up on me. If you didn’t matter, if I didn’t…” he looks away, sighing, and drops his hands.

He turns and grabs a shirt off of a hanger, his shirt, and gives it to you. “I’m tired. Let’s talk in the morning. Sleep in here,” he says, and then leaves.

You stopped your rummaging and sat in silence, contemplating what had just happened. You sighed and decided to go and lay down, putting on the shirt. The bed was a luxurious one with silk sheets. Everything smelt just like him, and it brought you comfort strangely. Your moment of calmness made you realize that you weren’t just angry at him; you were angry at yourself for caring about him. For still feeling something for him, letting him get under your skin, drag you back to him. You close your eyes, deciding sleep is your only option now.

A week of awkwardness went by. A week of glances, unsaid words, and awkward dinners together. He worked in his office when he wasn't down in Onychinus base handling business. You had grown so tired of the awkwardness that you had started talking to his private chef as he made meals just to hear someone speak. Zayne and Xavier had been calling and texting, trying to get ahold of you, but you couldn't bear to talk to them knowing how much it would hurt. How you gave up on the two who cared and tried to protect you just to go back to the one who hurt you the most.

You walked into the kitchen expecting his private chef to be gone already and the kitchen to be empty, but were surprised to see Sylus in there pouring coffee, his hair messy and looking like he had been up all night. You turned to leave, but a red mist quickly pulled you back around to face him.

“No more avoiding. Sit,” he says, and your body involuntarily takes a seat at the kitchen island. He places two cups of coffee on the table and sits across the island from you. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” you say, taking the coffee and blowing the hot drink.

“Not talking to me for a week, awkward side glances, leaving the room every time I'm in there. If that's not avoiding, I don't know what is,” he says with a sly smirk. You sigh and shrug. “Maybe I just need some time to think about all of this. I don't know what you want from me, Sylus,” you say softly.

“You could've left a week ago. Could've run away again, hid better this time. I want you to stop acting like you're not here by choice,” he says softly and grabs your face. “I... I care about you a lot, more than I would like to admit.” You leaned into his touch, not ready to say the words held in your chest. “Sylus, I can't allow myself to be hurt by you again,” you say.

“I won't. I know I haven't given you much reason to trust me, but baby, I promise you, I will do better.” Before you could say anything, the elevators to the penthouse dinged. You both looked over, probably expecting the loudness of Luke and Kieran to grace your presence, but were instead surprised to see her walking down the hallway like she owned the place. Her hair was put up in a ponytail, and she dressed casually with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Sylus,” she called out, not looking up from her phone.You look over to him and roll your eyes. “Doing better starts now. If you don't handle this, I’m leaving,” you say to him, irritated.

His jaw sets and clenches as he looks toward the doorway where she approaches. She finally looked up and saw you. You were dressed in his clothes, both of your hair messy. It wasn’t hard to guess what she was thinking.“Sy... what's going on here? Why is she here?” she asked.

You get up off the stool and walk out of the kitchen. “I'm serious, Sylus,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen. You stayed in the hallway, obviously going to eavesdrop.

“I told you it wasn’t a good time to come here right now,” Sylus says with a sigh.“What do you mean not a good time? Is it because she's here? You’re not involved with her, are you?” she says, her voice shaky and confused. There was a long and tense silence. “MC, right now is just not a good time. We can talk about this later. Just please leave,” his voice was desperate as he pleaded with her.

You hear a huff and then she comes storming out of the kitchen, not even noticing you as she walks toward the elevators and leaves. Sylus came out of the kitchen, rubbing his face. “Why didn't you tell her we're involved?” you ask.

“Please, just don't right now,” he says, rubbing his temples.“No! I'm just confused. You want me here but can't admit to her that you have feelings for me?” He grabs your arms and makes you face him. “It's more complicated than that. She... she's fate. You're—” he stops speaking and looks away.

“Say it, Sylus. Say what I am to you,” you ask desperately.

“You're a choice. My choice. Not one predestined for me. I want you, all of you,” he says softly.

You look at him and don’t see the put-together man that you usually do. You see one that was unraveling, struggling to come to terms with what he wanted and what he felt like he had to do. You don't know the extent of what he felt for her or how far back it went, but you knew those feelings would always be there.

“I know I'm selfish for wanting you... but I... I love you,” he finally says.

His ruby red eyes bore into yours with such intensity you felt like you were drowning in them. “Sylus, you make it sound like loving me is some kind of rebellion. You call her fate and me a choice, but you're hiding. I don't want to be loved privately like some kind of secret that will break the world. I want you to love me unashamedly, claim me, and show me off. And until she's out of your life, that will never happen.”

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt  @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly  @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04 @hebreeee @noxus123 @satansdaughter123

[keirareidss]

unknown/nth - a.h

♡ summary: hotch nearly breaks when you're in danger, and afterwards, realizes he can't live without you pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader warnings: violence, case details wc: 1.4k based on this request

You know the distance never made a difference to me I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea Ignored the vastness between all that can be seen And all that we believe So I thought you were like an angel to me

Hotch was going to have a breakdown. Mental, or physical, he didn't know. All he knew was that, if they didn't find you soon, he was going to start breaking shit.

You'd been gone for nine hours now, and it was all his fault. If he hadn't decided to split up, the unsub wouldn't have found you alone and you would still be with him, by his side.

He didn't know what was happening to you. Were you hurt? Were you conscious? Were you even still alive? He quickly pushed that thought from his head, focusing on how to get you back. They knew the unsub was dangerous, they knew he had a hair trigger so they had to be very careful about how they went about this. Hotch didn't care. He would do whatever it takes to get you back. He'd travel to hell and back if it meant you'd be waiting for him when he got there.

"Hotch? You listening?" Morgan said, snapping him out of his stupor.

"Yes." Hotch rasped, his voice rough from shouting at everyone. A regrettable moment, he'll admit.

"Garcia got a lead. A hardware store he might work at."

"Good. Take Prentiss with you." Derek's eyebrows furrowed.

"Prentiss is with Reid at the morgue. Hotch are you alright?" When had she gone there? Aaron was really losing it.

"Alright then take Rossi." Derek hesitated a moment, watching his boss carefully. He left the room, finding Rossi in the kitchenette, leaving Hotch alone in the conference room of the police precinct. Alone with his thoughts of what you could be going through right now.

It ain't the being alone It ain't the empty home, baby You know I'm good on my own You know, it's more the being unknown So much of the living, love, is the being unknown

Hotch typically worked better on his own, or at least taking the lead which worked out for him, being the boss. He had his own office where he could isolate himself, close the blinds, fully shut himself away from the rest of the world.

But then you broke down his walls. You permeated his office, filling his space, his senses, with you. He didn't know what he was like to be alone without you anymore. You were always there. Every day, bringing him coffee, dropping your files off and lingering for a chat, taking your lunch break in his office, forcing him to eat as well.

Now, while you were gone, he couldn't eat. He couldn't force himself to focus on the case, couldn't stand to look at the files because every step closer he got to finding you, the more he envisioned what could be happening to you.

It wasn't the fact that he was alone. It was the fact that he was alone, without you.

"We've got him." The words rang in his ears, the blurry world around him becoming clearer. He blinked and he was surrounded by his team, awaiting instructions. Garcia found a name, an address. They were so close to finding you.

"Let's go." Hotch said, standing from his chair. The team followed, wary of their bosses state right now. They couldn't tell if he was just a tick away from a breakdown or a murder. Maybe both. Maybe he'd end up fainting again.

They drove to the address, sirens blaring, lights flashing, though, as they got closer to the house they slowed down, turning off their alarm. This had to go perfectly. They had to get in quietly and take him down quickly. If he heard the police coming, he'd kill you and run. They pulled up a few houses down the street.

"Hotch." Rossi called to his friend, pulling the man's attention away from the vengeance on his mind. "I think you should stay back."

"What? No way, I'm going in there."

"I don't think that's a good idea and if it was anyone else in your shoes, you'd be saying the same thing. You're too close to this, Aaron, you know that." Aaron considered Dave's words and then nodded. His heart did feel as though it was beating a bit too fast and he could feel sweat forming on his forehead. He leaned back against the SUV as his team headed on without him, creeping up towards the house.

Any minute now, you'd come out of that house, perfectly fine, and right back into his arms, where he'd never let you leave from again.

Do you know, I could break beneath the weight Of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I'd walk so far just to take The injury of finally knowing you

Fourteen minutes and thirty five seconds. Fourteen minutes and thirty five seconds he stood at that vehicle, waiting for any glimpse of you. Any indication that you were okay, alive somewhere in that hell house. Just when he was considering storming into that house himself, the door opened, Derek leading you out of the house.

Your arm was over his shoulders, you didn't have any visible severe injuries, no limp, no dislocated shoulder. From what he could see you were fine but as he got closer, his feet bringing him closer and closer to you, he saw more injuries along your body. Bruises on the exposed skin he could see, blood on your temple and running down your bicep.

His eyes didn't leave you as he rushed across the yard. You spotted him, a sigh of relief leaving your lips. You took your arm from Derek's shoulders, stumbling forward to meet your boyfriend. He wasted no time pulling you into his arms. His lips pressed roughly to yours, his large hand cupping your cheek as your eyes fell closed, the passionate kiss making all the pain and aching in your body disappear.

"I thought I lost you." Hotch murmured against your lips.

"I'm right here." You whispered, Hotch pulling you back to kiss you again. The feeling of you pressed against him felt familiar, felt right. His arm wrapped around your waist before he remembered himself, pulling back again to look in your eyes.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He was out of breath, from the running to you or the kissing, you didn't know. Maybe a combination of both. Maybe it was just you alone who took his breath away.

"No. No, I'm okay." He leant down, burying his face in your neck, holding you tight. He didn't care who saw, the team, the press, the fucking president could watch him forgo his professionalism to embrace you and he would tell them to go fuck themselves.

"We should get you to a hospital." He says, leaning back to scan over your body for injuries.

"I'm fine, Aaron, just a few bruises."

"We need to be sure-"

"I'm sure." You said firmly, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Hotch." Derek called, pulling the yearning man's attention away from you. Morgan nodded to where the unsub was cuffed in the back of a cop car and the team was awaiting instruction.

He didn't let you leave his side as he finished up the case, keeping you within arms length as the team headed back to the precinct, packing everything up and heading back to the hotel. The two of you, in his hotel room, laid almost nose to nose on the bed, his hand clutching yours.

"I wasn't very helpful with this case." Hotch admits in the dark of the room.

"No?" You implored.

"No. I couldn't stop my mind from wandering. I kept thinking about what he was doing to you." He said softly. You sighed, raising a hand to his face, cupping his cheek softly.

"I'm here. I'm okay."

"I know." His hand found your wrist. And he was telling the truth. Seeing you in front of him, feeling your soft skin under his callused fingers, he finally felt at peace. He finally felt as if the calm, the constant in his life was returned to him.

Taglist: @cinnamoncunt, @dramioneforevertilltheend, @tinythebunni

[clfixationstation]

ngl I cannot bring myself to agree with the "Catra's redemption was rushed" crowd, whether they like the show overall or not. Perhaps I have a different view of redemption than most. To me, a redemption arc begins when a character experiences guilt and remorse for their actions, which Catra expresses in early season 4 when she has a nightmare about how she threw Entrapta under the bus and activated the portal. Catra's nightmare shows her images of Entrapta and Adora questioning her, placing the onus for her actions on her: "What did you do to me?" "Why did you do it?"

Derailing: Why did she do it? Not because Adora made her. Catra can't use that excuse anymore. "Why did you do it?" Adora also asked Catra this as a child (s5ep3 Corridors) after she hit Lonnie. Back then, it was because Catra was terrified of losing Adora's friendship and thereby being "discarded" by Shadow Weaver. She was scared for her life. But now? Catra didn't activate the portal for safety; she did it to win. She did it to prove to the world she could be victorious, to Shadow Weaver, Hordak, Adora, to everyone who refused to believe in her. Yet after pulling that lever, Catra's true desires were revealed; she wanted to be relatively safe, surrounded by friends, allowed to love Adora, and recognized for her worth. She didn't need to dominate. When that false reality shattered, Catra's hope was shattered with it. She fell back on her sense of injustice, reduced to her own agony, inflicting it upon the world and herself. After the portal, Catra had to face that her goal of ascending through the Horde was hollow.

One could even argue Catra feels regret at the end of season 3 with this look she gives Adora of "ohhh I fucked up, I fucked up big time." Catra looks sickened, with herself and with how Adora now sees her.

From this point in the story, it was blatant to me that Catra was headed for redemption. Catra clearly knows that she went too far and may have completely burned every bridge and ruined all hope of redemption. But she can't yet confront that her ambitions will not fulfill her. So, she doubles down. In classic sunk-cost fallacy fashion, Catra seemingly strengthens her allegiance to the Horde, taking control and commanding operations. Despite herself, Catra's guilt creeps up on her, not only through the nightmare but also in her approach to Adora. Unlike in s1-3, throughout season 4 Catra avoids Adora almost entirely, only engaging from afar. Catra evades confronting the amount of pain she's caused Adora, the seemingly irreparable chasm she's clawed between them, focusing solely on strengthening the Horde. She still cares, but she denies herself that regular interaction.

This suppression poisons Catra's fragile friendship with Scorpia as well. Catra continually lashes out at Scorpia, projecting her own insecurities and frustrations onto her. Her behavior pushes Scorpia away and causes her to leave the Horde, to leave Catra. This is the first time someone left because of her. It almost feels like self-sabotage, Catra pushing Scorpia more and more, becoming crueler, creating reason for her to defect. Catra doesn't feel worthy of Scorpia's friendship, of anyone's. And so Scorpia's kindness enrages her, reminds her of how far she's fallen, and how much lower she will go. Catra also lashes out at her former comrades, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle, further isolating herself from anyone who cares about her, pinning her entire existence on proving herself through Horde victory. She failed in the friendship department; the Horde is all she has left.

But Catra can't fool herself forever, and she certainly couldn't fool Double Trouble. After defeating Hordak, who does Catra have left to prove herself to? Horde Prime? Herself? Neither of those people care. For the first time, Catra is completely alone, and Double Trouble doesn't let Catra hide from how she got there. They read Catra to filth, summarizing what I wrote above: Catra pushed all her friends away in pursuit of a villainous role she didn't desire; her heart laid elsewhere. Now both goals are in ruins. Depleted, with nothing left to prove, Catra asks Glimmer to kill her. Catra's guilt permeated season 4, seeping into all her relationships and degrading her mental state. But guilt is meaningless without action. Which brings us to season 5.

I got soooo off track, so I'll try to wrap it up. So yes, Catra's redemption arc started in s3/4 when she first felt remorse for her actions - not in season 5. Even then, her change took time to develop. Initially, Catra still tried to align herself with Prime, but convinced him to spare Glimmer, indicating her shifting allegiance. The girls begin to empathize with each other and Catra sees how much Glimmer cares for Adora and the life Adora has built for herself. Fully expecting to die, Catra chooses to throw away the small amount of favor she earned with Prime and save Glimmer, therefore protecting Adora. Catra apologizes to Adora for everything. Her body is stolen from her and she dies as a consequence of her actions. She's revived and chooses to join the Rebellion. She slips up but genuinely tries to make amends, not for her own conscience but because it's right. She wants to do better. She accepts ire from the Princesses without retaliation. She defends Adora from Shadow Weaver. She gives Adora the strength to choose to live and allow herself to desire, and together they save the world.

This redemption is not immediate. It was given time, the foundation established across seasons. Catra does not have a sudden change of heart. It builds gradually, even within the final season. Nothing about Catra's arc was rushed and nothing about it was easy. Each day, she fought the harmful instincts cemented in her from years of abuse to become a better person, experiencing realistic regression and growth. Catra was tormented by others and herself for her entire life and all it did was make her worse. She deserves a soft universe, the new world she and Adora created together

[thewertsearch]

GG: Do you remember around when we first started talking? […] GG: And you claimed you were the one making my pumpkins disappear? [...] GG: You later proceeded to try to prove to me that what you were saying was true. GG: But none of your attempts thereafter would ever bear any fruit, pardon the pun. […] GG: And I think this unfortunately began a pattern of mistrust.

The signal was manually blocked by CrockerCorp, no doubt - and that was all it took to send Jane down a path to mistrust, suspicion and isolation.

It's easy, when you have her in the palm of your hand.

TG: i cant just always appearify stuff from you any time i want TG: i can only take stuff im "allowed" 2 which is pmuch random TG: like stuff that by takin id be messing up the time line cause that stuff is supposed to be there and serve some funciton it hasnt served yet […] TG: but pumpins 4 some reason are a lil easier to take i dunno why TG: like they are specifically and arbitrorily unhinged from spacetime

There's simply no force in this reality greater than the memetic effect of a long-running Hussie Joke.

TG: i so gonked your gaurds jane GG: … GG: Did you gank them when my gourd was down?

Fuck, Jane, that was a bona-fide dad joke!

This girl's filling a lot of roles that this cast has been sorely missing up until now. Out of all the Alpha Kids, she's the most unlike her B1 counterpart - which makes her so interesting to read. She might not be an Heir of Breath, but she is a breath of fresh air.

TG: im psyched about u wanting to believe me and all TG: but part of me still feels like i should prove it TG: like i tried to once TG: it was just frustratin i mean im a sciestist i should be able 2 prove my shit TG: like TG: subject my claims to the fuckin madrigogs GG: Um… GG: Madrigogs? TG: *mad rigors

Roxy, for her part, seems to be as much of a scientist as Mom was implied to be. Mad science ladies are possibly my favourite archetype ever; thus, Roxy's speedrun to S-Tier continues.

Anyway, it looks like Roxy's about to try and prove... something. It's hard to say what would completely sway Jane, though - after all, the girl's already seen a First Guardian and a robot bunny. If they couldn't convince her that something funny was going on, what will?

TG: i mean trust between friends is sweet and everything but i dont know if i wanta be the repipient of like a butt load of pity believins

Bit of a sore point, I gather. She's already sick of this shit with Jake.

GG: It's not about pity! GG: It's more like a gesture I'm trying to make. GG: Or maybe that's not quite right. GG: It has more to do with setting things right for myself than making it up to you. GG: Does that make sense? TG: ………….

I agree with Roxy's silence, here, because something about Jane's attitude is rubbing me me the wrong way. Like, I can't put my finger on why, exactly, but something about this self-centered attitude to remorse is a little...

...ominous.

[parketmansion]

We can all agree that KPDH was a metaphor for queerness, yes? The answer is yes because I make the rules, you're welcome.

No because like when Rumi said something like "if the honmoon tells me to hide this then I don't want to fight for the honmoon" and I was like oh catholic guilt??? When the "Your Idol" song was like "I'll take your sin." The whole movie when Rumi was scared I was like so true comrade, the constant fear of someone knowing the truth feeds into the shame that what you are is wrong and can isolate you and such.

Idk, feeling cute, might rewatch to take notes and write an essay about my findings later lol

[ashthesalamipiece]

hi! idk if u can do it or watched the movie but i feel like it would be really cute like a bakugou x reader tarzan au and it would be like fluff with some smut? ive been thinking about it and i thought it would be cute. it dosent have to be exactly like tarzan i js thought the prompt would be a good story katsuki beibg raised by animals(you can pick it dosent have to be monkeys) and finally meeting someone like him and he dosent really understand it. thank you! (can you add smut though? if your comfortaby with that but id perfer it with thank you again).

"Wildfire" – Bakugou x Fem!Reader (Tarzan AU)

Setting: Deep jungle, Bakugou raised by a pack of giant feline-beasts (think panther-lion hybrids). You're part of a scientific expedition sent to study the uncharted wildlife—until you find something unexpected.

---

You weren’t expecting to survive the storm.

Your transport was supposed to drop you and your team deeper into the jungle basin, but the crash landed you miles off course, isolated from the others. You were lucky to be alive—but alone. Almost.

Something had been following you.

It never attacked. Just watched. Stalked. Protected? You weren’t sure.

Until the night you wandered too far into the river basin and slipped down an embankment. You would've broken your leg—if it hadn’t been for the blur of muscle and gold-red eyes that caught you before you hit the rocks.

His skin was sun-kissed and scarred, hair wild like the jungle flame, barely clothed in tattered wraps. He was strong—feral, even—but he didn’t hurt you.

Just growled.

And then disappeared.

Now, he visits you. Watches. Closer. Closer.

And tonight, he speaks.

“You’re like me,” he says, voice rough like bark, golden eyes staring into yours as he crouches beside your campfire. He speaks your language—but haltingly, like he’s mimicked it from a distance. “But not same. You smell… different.”

You swallow. “I’m human. My name is Y/N.”

He tilts his head. “Katsuki.”

It’s the first word he’s said that doesn’t sound borrowed.

His name.

His body is strong and scarred, but you can tell he’s young. Your age. And curious—especially about you. You’d expected a beast. But you see a man behind those animal eyes.

And god, he’s beautiful.

“Do you live with… people?” you ask softly, fingers twitching on your lap.

He shakes his head, scowling. “No. Not people. Pride.”

“Lions?”

He growls. “Mine. Family.”

The jungle is quiet. And yet… your heart is racing. He's so close. You swear you can feel the heat rolling off him. Like a wildfire waiting to spread.

“You fell,” he says gruffly. “Could’ve died.”

“I didn’t,” you whisper. “You saved me.”

He blinks. And then, unexpectedly, he leans in close—sniffing your cheek, your hair, your neck. You shiver.

“You smell… soft,” he says. “Warm. Want it.”

Your breath catches.

“Want… what?”

His voice dips to a low, almost possessive growl. “You.”

---

It happens fast—because he doesn’t know how to be slow.

One second, you’re sitting by the fire. The next, you’re under him, back pressed to the soft moss and your shirt already tugged up, his nose dragging along your stomach like he’s mapping you by scent alone.

“Katsuki—” your voice cracks, but not from fear. It’s the intensity. He looks at you like he’s starved. Like he doesn’t understand what’s happening, only that he needs it. You.

“Tell me stop,” he growls into your skin. “I’ll stop.”

You don’t. You can’t.

“Don’t stop.”

That’s all it takes. He surges up to capture your lips, and it’s messy and wild—his first kiss, maybe. But when his hands find your thighs and grip tight, dragging you open beneath him, there’s a gentleness in how he watches you. Eyes flicking between yours, waiting for a flinch that never comes.

He’s hard against you, clothed only in rough wraps and instinct. Your hands thread into his wild hair as his lips trail down your neck, his tongue flicking against your skin.

You arch when he touches you—calloused fingers exploring like he’s memorizing what softness feels like. He growls when he finds how wet you are, rubbing your clit with tentative but focused strokes, learning fast.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “It’s you. This… is you.”

“Yes, Katsuki,” you moan. “It’s me. It’s okay.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. He grinds against you, pulling at the wrap around his hips, hissing when your nails scratch down his back.

When he finally pushes into you, it’s with a groan that sounds almost pained. You gasp—he’s thick, and the stretch is deep, primal, hot.

You clutch him, thighs wrapping around his hips as he sets a slow, careful pace at first. But instinct takes over. Each thrust becomes deeper, harder. You cry out, but he hushes you with kisses, with murmured words you barely understand.

“Mine,” he whispers. “You’re mine now.”

And you don’t argue.

Because he’s yours too.

---

Later, when you're curled up beside him in the cool jungle night, your body sore but sated, he traces your fingers like they’re magic.

“I thought I was only one,” he murmurs.

“You’re not.”

He looks at you like that’s the first real truth he’s ever known.

You smile, brushing his wild hair back. “You’re not alone anymore, Katsuki.”

He buries his face into your neck.

And for the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugou sleeps beside someone warm.

Someone who smells like home.

[peasack]

I love your work!!! I was wondering if you'd write a teen!reader headcanon for them struggling with mental health, needing help with homework, coming out or getting bullied please? I especially love how you write Ava (she's my favourite character) and you manage to nail the Alexis voice

Absolutely adore this request.

I chose to write about the mental health, since I all of them (obviously) know how to deal with that. But I'll definitely put the other suggestions on my list!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Mental Health Support Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Ava Starr

The quiet protector. Ava’s not the type to talk circles around you or push you to open up. Instead, she watches. She notices the changes in your behaviorthe silence, the distance, the fake smiles and instead of asking a million questions, she simply shows up. She’ll quietly sit next to you, maybe reading or scrolling on her phone, just so you know she’s there without overwhelming you.

Understands isolation deeply. After everything with her phasing, Ava knows what it’s like to feel broken, like you're a burden, like no one could possibly understand. So when you isolate, she doesn’t take it personally. She just leaves a small trail for you to follow when you’re ready a text, a post-it note, a granola bar on your desk. Tiny signs that say you’re not forgotten.

Soft but firm boundaries. If you try to shut her out completely or brush her off with a fake “I’m fine,” Ava will tilt her head at you with this deadpan look and go, “Try again.” Not mean, not angry. Just “I see through you. You’re not fine. But I’ll wait for you to be ready.” She never lets you disappear completely.

Takes you on quiet, low-pressure ‘missions.’ She’ll invite you on drives, walks, or errands that sound boring but feel safe. “Come with me to pick up supplies. No talking necessary.” It’s her way of offering you company without forcing conversation. These small moments help you reconnect to the world without overwhelming you.

Gentle about scars and history. When she finds out about your past or your scars, she doesn’t freak out. She doesn’t lecture. She just softly says, “You’ve survived a lot. You don’t have to survive it alone anymore.” And that’s it. She holds it like a secret you entrusted her with.

Fiercely protective in her own silent way. If anyone triggers you, bullies you, or drags you down—Ava will quietly, ruthlessly remove that threat from your life. No one knows how, but that person suddenly just leaves you alone. Ava doesn’t need credit or thanks. She just protects you. Always.

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Not the best with words, but man does he show up. Alexei might not always know what to say, but he makes sure you know you’re not alone. He’ll randomly sit with you, bring you snacks, or drag you into the living room to watch terrible old Soviet movies with him, just to keep you company.

Overcompensates with physical comfort. He’s big on hugs and ruffling your hair, and you get the sense he’s constantly making sure you’re still there, still safe. He’s the kind of guy who will pat your back so hard you almost fall over—but you feel a little better afterward.

Terrible at hiding his concern. He’ll blurt out things like, "You are not allowed to disappear, okay? I will find you. I will find whoever made you sad. I will crush them like beetle."

Secretly keeps an eye on your routines. He notices if you’re skipping meals, missing sleep, or isolating. He’s not subtle—he’ll straight up drag you out of bed and be like, “We are going for silly little walk. It is non-negotiable.”

Panics when you cry. He immediately calls for backup (usually Yelena) like he’s reporting a code red. But he stays. Always. Even when he’s unsure what to do, he refuses to leave your side.

✦ Yelena Belova

The calm-in-a-storm type. When you’re spiraling, Yelena doesn’t flinch. She sits next to you, quietly, like, "Okay. We are sad now. I will be sad with you." She doesn’t try to fix you. She just holds space.

Violently protective of your mental space. If someone at school or even in the team says something that hurts you, she’s on it like a hawk. “Tell me who. I just want to talk.” (She does not just want to talk.)

Talks about her own issues openly. She’ll casually drop lines like, "Yeah, I have bad days too. I usually throw knives to feel better." She tries to normalize it so you never feel broken.

Pulls you into little missions or tasks when you isolate. "Come help me spy on Alexei. It will be fun." It’s her way of reconnecting you with the world.

Terrible with cheesy comfort phrases. Instead, you get blunt affection. "You are not allowed to give up. You are my family. You do not get to leave me. I will be annoying forever, so you must stay to suffer me."

✦ Bucky Barnes

The king of quiet understanding. He never pushes. Never demands you explain. Just sits next to you, offers a cup of tea, and sometimes just says, "I’ve been there. You don’t have to talk, but I get it."

Not great with open emotional convos but will listen all night if you need. He doesn’t always know what advice to give, but he will nod along, let you ramble, and toss in dry little jokes to keep you grounded.

Gives you space but always checks in. Leaves little notes on your door like "I’m making food. You better eat." Or sends you a text: "Still breathing? Cool. Come hang when you’re ready."

Gets quietly, intensely protective if anyone makes you feel worse. He won’t make a scene but will 100% have a quiet, terrifying “chat” with the person responsible.

Teaches you small things to help. Like how to box when you’re angry, or how to breathe when you’re spiraling. He’s the type to hand you coping tools instead of empty comfort.

✦ Bob Reynolds

So, so soft about it. Bob is super emotionally tuned in and probably notices you’re struggling before you say anything. He gets this gentle, concerned tone like, "Hey, kid… you doing okay?"

Overthinks and worries a lot. He’s scared of saying the wrong thing or making you worse, but he wants to help. He’ll sit with you, make you tea, or put on your favorite show just to be near you.

Big on distraction days. He’ll offer to play games, watch movies, even sit and listen to music together, anything to help you breathe and not be stuck in your head.

Sassy comfort. Once you’re closer, he’ll throw in playful sass to make you smile when you’re down. "Look, you’re stuck with me now. Can’t get rid of me. I’m like emotional gum on your shoe."

If you cry in front of him, he crumbles. He holds you so carefully like you might break, and his voice drops to the softest whisper like, "Hey… hey, you’re safe. I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.”

✦ John Walker

Awkward but fiercely loyal. John’s not super in touch with his own emotions, but the moment he sees you’re struggling, he’s locked in. He just… doesn’t always know how to handle it. "You, uh, wanna… I dunno. Wanna hit something? Or get ice cream? Or whatever helps?"

Overprepares. Starts reading up on mental health resources, making checklists in his phone like "Things To Help The Kid When They're Sad" because he genuinely wants to be good at this.

Dad-mode activated. He’ll randomly show up with snacks, your favorite drink, or movie nights without making a big deal out of it. If you try to thank him, he waves it off like, "Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s what I’m here for."

Gets super angry at anyone who hurts you. Like, full-on clenched fists, ready-to-throw-down angry. But he channels it quietly—he just gets very, very protective from a distance.

Awkward comfort, but real. Might pat your back stiffly and mutter, "Look… I might not always get it. But I care about you, okay? You’re family. You’re my kid now. Deal with it."

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope this was alright, it's a little more detailed on Ava’s part since, of course, the request was for her.

If you guys have more requests please leave them in my inbox! <3

[scriptseekstories]

Thou Art with Child?!

Cookie Run Kingdom x Ex! Single Parent! Reader

A/N: Yeah Yeah, I know, “Yo Script why you keep making these new stories knowing damn well you might not even update them?” BECAUSE I CAN DAMMIT- >:(

Now leave me alone and enjoy this!!

You were a magic wielder, an isolated yet humble mage who specializes in preservation and nature magic. You were not really known to be near other cookies, comfortable with your aloneness for as long as you can remember.

The days in your life was filled with with the constant practices of your amber spells, encasing items within the harden sap from the trees around your home, using magic to heal and battle monsters that dare invade your personal isolated sanctuary.

Yet something was missing. The few times you visit the village nearby, you saw how cookies would smile to one another, gift to one another, kiss each other, blush and giggle as if they were kids again.

Ah, so it was love you were missing.

Yet you would never think you’d find the right cookie, always busy with your magic, preserving things in amber to watch them freeze in time, too busy for love.

That was until you met the five heroes of Earthbread.

Cake monsters were common around your forest of a home, so you always had to fight them off to keep them at bay. It wasn’t uncommon for travelers to find sanctuary at your home, yet you weren’t really a good host, staying silent and just awkwardly sitting there until they’re ready to leave.

But one night, you were gathering roll cake wood when a large cake hound lunged from the shadows. You believe to be done for as you were unarmed when a bright flashing light shined, and the beast ran off.

The ones who saved you were none other than the heroes of Earthbread. The one known at Dark Cacao cookie and Hollyberry cookie were injured, and White Lily begged for help, to which you immediately return the favor.

Cleaning their crumbling wounds, they couldn’t thank you enough, to which you felt flustered and said it was no problem. You knew they were still injured, so you took in your lack of social interaction and blurted out.

“If you would like, there’s always beds ready for you five,” You in fact may or may not have spare beds from previous travelers (you did lol). Golden Cheese cookie was wary, rightfully suspicious as to why you had a lot of beds in a spare room.

But after time passed, each hero you gained their trust. You learned of their strength, magic, determination for peace. Each was unique and the complete opposite of you.

When they were healed, they were saddened to part with your company, yet you assured them to continue fighting. It wasn’t long before they returned, again, and again, and again.

Pure Vanilla wanting to learn more of your magic? Why not. Hollyberry offering her sacred berry juice? You’ll take it. Golden Cheese dazzling you with her treasures? How generous or the light of abundance. Dark Cacao having nice and comfortable tea time with you? You never felt alone anymore. White Lily admired by your healing remedies and stories? What more could you ask for.

Those times were your precious moments. You felt… happy. All those times alone you never noticed how much you yearn for the hugs from Hollyberry, the gifts from Golden Cheese, the praises from Pure Vanilla, the long talks with White Lily, the company of Dark Cacao.

You were… in love.

One day, before they went to be sent into the world again to defeat Dark Enchantress cookie, you made a grand dinner for the six of you.

A part of you said it was foolish to ever admit to these feelings, yet you went ahead and confessed. How you felt like the years spending together felt truly special, and you wanted to be apart of their lives forever.

“I must apologize. I… we truly care for you, (Name) Cookie, and our hearts will always yearn for you as long as we are friends,” Pure Vanilla gave a smile that was full of pity, it made you feel awful. This feelings wasn’t something you wanted to feel.

“We cannot cloud our fate with such… meaningless emotions,” Dark Cacao’s tone was low and gentle, but they were set in stone.

Ah, they did care about you… just not in the way you cared for them, the way you loved them.

“But rest assured!! Yourself is a treasure in our eyes! Our strongest ally,” Golden Cheese and Hollyberry raised their glasses and cheered. You swallowed a burst of emotions, nodding along.

White Lily was the only one who asked if the refusal of your confession was okay, and if they hurt you. You could only grip the hem of your clothes before grinning.

You gave an awkward chuckle, assuring them that it was not a big deal, that their strength and courage is all they need in order to defeat Dark Enchantress Cookie. They could stay as long as they want!

You cleaned up and sat at the window while they settled in their beds. You wiped any worthless tears and shuddered, praying to Moonlight cookie to please take away the pain you had.

You woke up hours after they left, with notes thanking you for your hospitality. It hurt, but you knew that these were The Ancients! Why on Earthbread would you expect them to fall in love with a cookie such as yourself?

You wanted to forget them, yet hope they would return to have you tend to their wounds, see their happy smiles and presence despite hurting you, yet they haven’t returned. Maybe it was for the best.

Yet the Witches chose to make your life even more difficult. You decided to clean the medical room you made for them, running your arm to throw almost empty bags with powder White Lily used for her healing remedies.

Tying up bags that were filled with crumbs you disposed from their wounds when they got severely injured and your own crumbs when you wanted to join them with an adventure once.

Tossing them into the fireplace you set, you were dumb to think that anything would go your way ever since those heroes came into your life, because one little explosion of powder later you were laying on the floor with the sound of crying.

Lifting your head up, you saw a pile of dough, rising up and down with each sound of cries. Mismatched colors of cookie tone splattered on the… the… baby- WHAT?!

“A… Baby…? Oh no no no no no…” This wasn’t how baby cookies were made! The Gacha ovens made them! Combining crumbs of two cookies then life-!!

Life powder… White Lily’s healing supplies… the waste of crumbs from… Oh crumbs…

That’s how you ended up a baby cookie dough, who went on crying and giggling as you held them in your arms. This made you feel even worse, a baby with not only your dough, but with the Ancients!! What sort of fanfic bullshit is this-?!

Nevertheless, the moment the baby cookie dough opened his eyes and giggled, you fell in love. He wasn’t just a creation of them, he was yours… or was he a she-?

However, you couldn’t begin your step of parenthood, when a harsh earthquake shook your home. Running outside, you saw great explosion from the top of a mountain.

The Pure Vanilla Kingdom, that much you knew. Red, white, and black colors swarmed the kingdom before your eyes widened witnessing it crumble. Your hold on your baby cookie dough tightened when a massive white dome was expanding.

Using your magic, you held your hand out to created a shield encased of amber, surrounding your body, surrounding what you held dear when the impact of the explosion waved over your home.

Trees pushed and bend, your house falling to the side in an instant, yet your magic held strong, determined to hold back against what dark magic washed from this war. Everything around you became nothing but ruins, all but your cocoon of the petrified tree sap.

You got trapped within the amber that protected you and your baby. Frozen in time, life around you began to move again. Days, weeks, months, years passed, the nature took course and overtook your amber, covering it with moss and vines.

Snow began to drift, layering over you for thousands of years, forgotten by the eyes of history, never a chance of your legacy growing, because your legacy was frozen in your arms.

Time returned on its steady course when a figure was trudging through the snowy blizzard, clinging onto their staff with terror and rage. Hungry, cold, nowhere to go, they spotted your abounded and crumbling house that still stood after all these years.

The cookie needed to stay warm, and this shabby old hut was good enough… until they tripped over something hard. The cookie cursed and went to kick whatever tripped them, before seeing a glint of orange sprouting from the snow.

A shaky hand wiped across the snow, digging to find more orange, before their palm pushed enough snow to see you. Staring at your frozen face made them feel startled, before a slow grin rose on their face.

“Why~ hello there darling~”

A/N: So what if I keep making more stories that will probably overwhelm me with more responsibilities, SO WHAT? 🤨

Jk jk, but I seriously have to get into cool silly things that might end me with burnout fr, 😭 but that time hasn’t come yet, and I’m still thriving! 💪🏽 (not for long lmao)

Taglist: @pix-stuff @jellystar-star @moon0goddess @bad4amficideas @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @ryuushou @deathbynarcisstick @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout @middevil465 @jsprien213 @1abi @oliviaewl @redkarmakai @nxdxsworld @the-dumber-scaramouche @sc3n3mo-t3to @tw-om-gi-hs-56387 @bunniotomia @welpthisisboring @rad4bean @ithoughtthinks @reeyy0-2 @ceramic-raven @danart501 @esposadomd @trashlanternfish360 @jjoppees @nervousalpacalady @eyeless-kun @pinkcloudcat @lunamonkeypower @soriansick @your-favorite-god

[red5cars]

been a minute since i talked about a hybrid!au so bringing back service pup reader x jack abbot

tags: dog-hybrid!reader, heats, fingering, p-in-v, just soft sleepy sex

warm.

that’s the only word his sleep-addled brain can muster, “warm”.

an unusual feeling considering he keeps the house fairly cool, leaning into how comfortable his life is if he ignores all the thundering thoughts in his brain.

he opens one eye, not expecting to be met back with two, half-lidded and glassy.

it’s pretty normal to wake up with you on top of him, your weight grounding, breaching his subconscious and pulling him out from the night terrors. what’s not normal is the way you grind your hips onto his thigh.

thankfully, this isn’t an isolated incident.

both eyes open now, he greets you with a lazy smile, one of his hands settling on your back, “well this definitely beats an alarm clock,” he mumbles, other hand coming up to the pet the spot between your ears. a quiet huff leaves your lips, leaning more towards satisfaction than annoyance.

with a grunt, he moves his hands, urging you to lift your hips as he adjusts himself underneath you. when he brings your body back down, your legs straddle him, stray fur from your tail tickling the inside of his thighs.

jack hums, smoothing a hand over your ass, “heat came a little earlier than we planned,” and you nod, speech harder during the beginning of your heats. he can only tut in sympathy, “poor baby.. been like this for a hot minute, yeah?”

while words may have left you, your judgement hasn’t as you roll your eyes, giving him a look that says get on with it.

and he’s more than happy to.

the hand on your rump slides into your panties, already dripping so much slick he’s surprised there wasn’t any on his thigh. he strokes two fingers over the hole, slipping in easy as they push inside.

your lips part, quiet moan sounded out against his chest. he does his best to listen, to feel you out. noting what makes your breath hitch or what has pushing back against his hand. brings the hand on your head down to grab one of your cheeks, pulling and spreading your whole even wider around his fingers.

he continues to tease you like that, taking his time. sometimes, he’ll even pull his fingers out, using two more to rub over your hole, earning a soft whine from you.

after a few more thrusts of his digits you come, frenching his fingers as you clench. your breathing is heavy, the rise of your chest pushing against his own. he’ll never get used to seeing you like this, savoring it all like it’s the first time.

sliding his fingers out of you results with you whimpering, and jack can’t help but chuckle. his (dry) hand comes back to rest on your hand, ruffling your hair before pinching your cheek, “greedy girl,” he admonished fondly, pushing a finger between your lips. sharp canines poke at his flesh, even piercing against it in hopes to pierce him. it’s satisfying, but the way your eyes go out of focus for a minute bests that.

removing his hand from your face, he uses both to give you what you need. takes him a good minute to work down his boxers, sleep still wrapped around his bones. you being on top of him doesn’t help either, but he’ll never complain about any of that.

if he were a few years younger his cock would spring up, hitting you right against your folds. shame what time does, jack having to give himself a few extra pumps before he’s ready.

slowly, he eases you down onto his cock, watching you wince from the intrusion. it strokes his ego, even if he knows it’s more about your sensitivity then his size. someone like you is meant to take something bigger.

it’s in his dresser for later.

the whole time you sink down, you nudge your face further against his chest. it’s like you’re trying to bury yourself inside him, chasing that warm feeling, pulling on the cords of his heart till you’re tied up in them, wrapped around like some organic shibari.

he’s wide awake the moment your ass is flat on his hips, taking in lungfuls of his scent. the two of you stay like that, for a minute, the only noise your deep breathing. after a couple of clicks, you’re moving.

jack watches you take what you’re owed, his own breathing picking up and he’s hardly doing anything. the way you move is just so exhilarating, any smart comments leaving him because he’s too focused on you bouncing on your cock.

in place of those comments is praise, murmurs of “good girl” make your tail wag and your hips move even faster.

isn’t long before you cum, the telltale signs like you’re jaw clenching and eyebrows furrowing letting jack know. his arms wrap around you just as you do, lifting his hips to kiss that gummy spot inside you while you meet him with a rough slam of your hips.

your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you come down, your breath hot as it hits jack’s shirt.

his hold loosens, rearranging his hands so they’re rubbing your sides now. “better?” he asks, bit breathless from you bouncing on his cock.

you find your voice, nodding as you mumble a quick “yes,” emphasized by the slow wag of your tail.

he can only smile, leaning forward to kiss your temple, “‘m glad,” it’s spoken into your hairline, the intimacy leading you towards a more syrupy headspace.

without fully pulling you off his cock, he tugs you a little closer, holding you tight while resting his chin on your head.

“let’s take a quick power nap before the next round, okay?” he’s met with a quiet mmf which sounds like an “okay” to jack.

[mischievousmoony]

hello, i’ve been loving your summer kickoff event! may i please request a burger with regulus and the prompt: “of course i remembered, it’s your favourite!” thank you so much!

𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚢

⟢ pairing: regulus black x reader ⟢ summary: it's a completely ordinary day, except for the part where regulus realizes he's in love with you ⊹ 1.2k ⟢ contains: brief/vague mention of walburga/family troubles

note: hi anon! so this is still part of my event, but i accidentally ended up doubling the word count i was aiming for and really loving what i wrote, so i’m posting it as a oneshot! im quite proud of this and i hope u like it too! <3

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“What’s this?” Regulus asks, his voice soft in the way it only ever is with you.

He’s in your kitchen doorway, eyes on the porcelain cup you pressed into his hands, the warmth still lingering where your fingers briefly stilled over his before withdrawing.

“Tea,” you answer, like it’s nothing, turning back into the kitchen to tuck everything away.

But it’s not nothing. Because the second the warm tea hits his tongue, Regulus’ eyebrows twitch up in surprise.

“This is…” he starts, but the rest falters in his throat.

“Earl gray, loose leaf,” you say without looking up, your focus on wiping down the counter with a gingham dish rag. “From the tea shop on the corner of Birch and Cross. Steeped for four minutes. Splash of milk. No sugar.”

“How did you-?”

“I’ve watched you make it more times than I can count,” you say, a fondness in your tone as if recalling a cherished memory.

His eyes follow you as you bustle about the kitchen, placing dishes in the sink, putting the milk back in the refrigerator. There’s a slight tilt to his head, like he’s trying to figure out just how much attention you’d have to pay him to notice he steeps his tea for exactly four minutes—no more, no less. To have caught the name of the tea shop on the bag during the few seconds it sits on his counter while he moves the leaves to the unmarked tin in his cabinet.

To be able to read his mind when you’re not even looking at him.

“Of course I remembered. It’s your favorite.” You glance at him briefly, a knowing smile playing at your lips. “You always drink it when you’re having a rough day, at least. And I know today’s been a long one.”

He hadn’t told you that, but it’s true. He can feel it in the way his body holds itself—shoulders tight, spine rigid, jaw clenched—his stress intertwined in every muscle. And beneath it all, a bone-deep exhaustion. If he were to look in the mirror, he could expect to find sunken eyes and his face drawn.

Spending the morning with his mother tends to have that effect.

Normally, he would escape to the quiet of his flat after a day like today. Spend the rest of his evening in solitude, and—you’re right—pacify his emotions with a cup of his favorite tea.

He doesn’t quite remember when he started coming to yours instead. Choosing your company over quiet isolation. Where he can swallow his frustrations. Tough out his turmoil. That’s what he was used to, before you. Before you were there, gently encouraging him to do the last thing he thought he wanted: talk about it. And yet, he knows he’s better for it.

Regulus realizes he’s never had a friend like you before. Or, maybe, something more than a friend. Maybe the quiet ways you take care of him and the way your gentle touch always seems to linger have been indications of your true feelings. Maybe the way a smile comes more easily to him and the warmth that swells in his chest when you’re near are indications of his.

The realization catches in his throat. What this is, what you are to him. Over a blood cup of tea… he feels ridiculous.

But isn’t it better to be ridiculous than afraid? He never liked to think about it before—you, this. Putting himself in the vulnerable position of placing his heart in your hands, where you could so easily break it. Abandon it.

His heart still races as he thinks about it now, but for a different reason entirely.

Perhaps it’s your patience that changed him, never asking to put a label on what this is. Your constant presence, showing up even when it would’ve been easier not to. You let him learn, in his own time, how to lean on someone else. And he finally realizes it’s okay to lean on you.

Maybe it’s partly that, and partly because he knows you’re worth the risk.

“Is it alright?” you ask, a hint of worry sneaking into your tone, because he’s just been standing there. Tea resting idly in his hands, cooled down to the point where steam no longer wafts from the pale surface. You could have put too much milk. Or not enough. Or you needed to let it steep for longer.

“Of course,” he quickly reassures you. Reading the insecurity on your face, he’s desperate to squash it. “It’s lovely.”

He takes a long drink of the tea. “It’s perfect,” he adds, between sips, savoring every drop. The fact that it was made by your loving hands make it taste better than any cup of tea he’s ever made himself.

The tension leaves your shoulders as you watch him, mirroring the way his had eased several minutes ago. He hadn’t even noticed it, the weight lifting. But he knows it’s your presence that did it.

He slowly places the cup on the counter, staring at it for a moment. Hesitating, before his eyes flash to you, and determination sets in his gaze.

In a few long strides, he rounds the counter. You drop what you’re doing as his hand comes up to the side of your face, his fingertips lightly brushing across your cheek until he gains enough confidence to firmly cup your jaw.

Your breath hitches as his eyes flicker to your lips. He waits a moment, giving you the space to back away if this isn’t what you want. When you lean into it, he brings his free hand to cup the other side of your face, too. Any lingering hesitation promptly vanishes when his lips finally meet yours.

There are no fireworks, like the romantics said there would be. Time doesn’t stop, the stars don’t collide.

The one thing they did get right? The way the world fades away, insignificant in the face of you. He soaks up the warmth of your presence as your hands find his chest, sliding across the cool, crisp fabric of his black button-up, the press of your palms a gentle comfort.

Regulus feels like he belongs in this moment. In this kiss that he didn’t know he was longing for, as your soft lips move against his. He’d stay here forever if he could, but he has to come up for air eventually.

For a moment, you just stay there. Still, foreheads pressed against each other, sharing heavy breaths as you both come back to reality.

First to break the silence, a shaky murmur shaped like a joke slips past your lips, “Must’ve been some cup of tea.”

Regulus laughs, a happy sound from deep in his belly that stirs up a warm swirl of affection in your chest, and he kisses you again.

He doesn’t imagine that he’ll ever really stop.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[warrior-of-storms]

So I want to do a whole thing on Death in the Family now that I'm done with my Jaybin readthrough, but before I get to that I just wanna scream about this because it's so deeply unfair.

This is Jason's funeral. We all remember Jason's funeral, right? How Dick wasn't invited and all that? Right, so, question is, what are Babs and Gordon doing there?

I just finished reading every Jaybin comic in post-Crisis, so I can confidently say that Jason and Barbara never met on-page while he was Robin. I think it's later stated that she was tutoring him or something, but we never see it while he's alive.

Other question, why are there so few attendees? Did Jason really have no friends in school? Not a single one? I know the Titans were off-world, but like?? No one? No one but Bruce, Alfred, and the Gordons (who may or may not have even interacted with Jason outside of costume ever??)

If the issue was protecting Batman's secret identity, which it may well be, then why was there never a memorial service for Robin? He had friends! Jason snuck off without telling Batman on his second Titans mission, but the first one? He had approval on the first one! He got along with Donna and Roy, and Wally & Garth didn't seem to have any problems with him. And on his second mission, he seemed to get along well with Gar and Kory too. And that's not even mentioning Eddie Bloomburg, his pen pal! Did anyone bother to tell Eddie that his friend died? Bruce had to know about the pen pal thing, right? You can't exactly mail letters without an address. But no, no memorial or anything for Jason, the most he got was Dick crashing out for a bit and that annoying kid getting kicked off the Titans for being callous about it.

And it's one thing to take this funeral in isolation, it's sad all on it's own, but the thing that really ticks me off is that I read Judas Contract a couple weeks ago too.

Terra died actively betraying her team, her friends, and she was buried a hero. Terra's betrayal was covered up by the Teen Titans so that her half-brother could retain his untarnished memories of her.

Do you see my problem here?

Jason died trying to save his mother, one of the two people directly responsible for him being in this situation in the first place. Sheila betrayed him, and, I mean, no one knows that aside from Jason and the Joker, but come onnnnnn. Terra dies a traitor and has a beautiful funeral attended by her team and the Outsiders despite it. Jason dies a hero and his brother wasn't informed of it until a good while after the fact. Terra dies a traitor, and it's deliberately hidden from everyone who didn't personally witness her betrayal. Jason dies a hero, and everyone spends the next several years talking about how it was his fault and slandering his character.

[zvezdacito]

THIS IS SO REAL

The other housewardens/students are also not really trying to understand Malleus because to them there's nothing to understand. They don't know how different the fae are to humans, and most don't even fully know their history at the hands of humans, so to everyone Malleus is just trying to be above it all and difficult for no reason. But Malleus has already done a lot to try and adapt to humans and the day and only has a few complaints about what he cant wrap his head around

A lot of people take his apology to Lilia at the end of his dorm vignette "I wasn't trying hard enough to get along" as confirmation that twst is saying Malleus ACTUALLY is not truly trying and most/everything is his fault.

But if you noticed Malleus has a habit of saying "I'LL do better" instead has a of blaming others when put in an unfair situation. As with all twst characters with biased perceptions/who don't say what they mean. You can't just take what they say as face value to what the story is actually saying

↑ People also tend to do this with Ace after his bluntness and non-coddling saved heartslabyul and stopped riddle in Book 1... ppl took it working in /that/ specific instance to mean that this is the ONLY way to stop every overblotter and the OBers just gotta man up against years of conditioning Imao. The story also shows that Ace's bluntness is not fully noble and sometimes even makes the situation worse or makes a fool out of Ace (the Heartslabyul novel really fleshes out the nuance of this trait/how overblots are confronted)

On the topic of coddling... This also reminds me of this one user who would say Lilia is coddling Malleus and that's why he turned out so difficult? It's kinda funny because this is the POV the housewardens in-universe would have of their dynamic, but it's not actually the truth.

When Lilia gives Malleus acknowledgment and approval, it looks like coddling exactly because the overblotters don't know how naturally different Malleus as a fae (who has to not feel because of his power) is, and thus how much he's already adjusted from his natural way of doing things to live with them. He laughs off and doesn't really mind a lot of Malleus' antics because to he KNOWS this isolated fae doesn't really mean anything by it, so he's responding with the necessary consideration to MAKE Malleus learn and understand. He gives him the time, unlike the palace staff who just keep conceding and backing off from him because they see him as the power/authority before the child, and unlike the other housewardens who as mentioned just see him as a nuisance/threat who's like that just because he's arrogant or something

We also know that Lilia DOES reprimand Malleus and demand he change when he does something wrong, whether he's not listening to his tutors at the castle or the literal events of the dorm vignette, so doesn't just give endless excuses for Malleus just because he knows it's hard for him.

Twst is all about learning to coexist with other people's circumstances, ways of thinking and contradicting desires, without thinkin difference must mean they are the bad guy and you are the good guy. And sometimes that's hard because misunderstandings easily happen and we rarely have the full story about something or someone. It's just this theme in different fonts with each overblot so it's kinda ironic in a meta way that fans of other OBers/characters don't realize this for Malleus, the character who is the "final boss"/pinnacle of this central theme. But yeah he is my fave for these reasons, his position is nuanced and complex and says a lot about the overall story and fun to see all the layers of.

I feel a lot of the time we don’t consider the fae perspective. We mostly consider the human’s. Which, yes, of course because we are human.

But in a story like twst, where so many characters are relatable human or not, I think it’s a bit unfair to not consider their perspective.

The main one I’m thinking of right now is how we tend to criticize Malleus and his not being able to keep track of time.

We’ve been told that he has trouble keeping track of time, and in general, many of the fae do. To them, time moves different (not to mention how it can differ depending on species), but for Malleus it’s much more than that.

Malleus has been locked up in the castle for years. He got visits from Lilia and he looked foward to that. Beyond that? It was the same every single day. He was alone. Think about it. For us, we would get tired and bored of that. Time would move slowly. We would want to escape. But Malleus couldn’t. He was trapped there, making the most of it when he hid and when Lilia visits. To him, those moments of fun didn’t last long at all and the moments of melancholy lasted forever.

On a side note, we’ve seen how long it took Lilia to adapt to humans too, about 200+ years. (He’s still adapting now. He’s somewhat better at it now because of Silver and Sebek. Who are more day creatures and he had to adapt to that as well. Even though it’s still tough on him). So how can we expect the same from Malleus, when it took even Lilia this long to do it?

When Malleus grew older and he was able to escape, time moved quickly for him. He was able to spend time with Lilia and others. He had fun and freedom. To him, time sped up. Silver and Sebek age quickly. Malleus had trouble with how fast it was. Even in his dorm card he mentions how quickly they’ve grown.

But then, you also have to consider, Malleus is a fae, he’s abided by fae time for over a century and it was only recently (at least 17 years), that he tried to adapt to human time. From seeing a babe grow to now at NRC, where school is taught through human time. How can we expect him to suddenly adapt so quickly?

I wouldn’t be surprised that besides some of the fae, other beastman or merman might have more of a nocturnal clock too.

We expect him to adapt to humans but when has any of them helped him to adapt? When we ask things of others, don’t we usually try and meet half way?? Isn’t it selfish to always one-sidedly ask him to change?? And not help him achieve the change we are asking for?

It’s one thing for the rest of dia group to help him, and they try. But it’s another, when the humans don’t even try when Malleus is trying to get along with them and make a connection with them for peace between everyone. Even more so, he wants to get along and have friends too.

And then?? They get angry? At him?? For not adhering to their ways, but did they help him? Did you remind him? Or even send the invite at all? Or were you too scared and it’s easier to blame?

He’s known to arrive in advance hours before a meeting so he doesn’t miss it because he does care and he does want to attend. But where are the people to meet him half way? To remind him or even give him the proper or updated info?

It’s a two way street. We can’t always judge malleus because of his “bad” traits, when in reality, it’s a fae thing can we?

You can argue that it’s not others jobs to do that. And yeah you’re right, but then we have seen dorm leaders go out of their way to help others haven’t we? Riddle going after Idia is one example.

And if there is to be peace, then both humans and fae have to work together to understand the other.

I think it’s unfair to always expect Malleus to change without understanding his background and his childhood and how that changes his perception of time.