#heroes are born of spite

[archduchessgortash]

It's so interesting to me that whether a character in Baldur's Gate 3 became a traumatized but resilient hero or an easily pitied but unforgivable villain boils down to little more than semantics.

They've all been through some shit, but in the end, it's really the difference between:

Because of... and in spite of...

[mishy-mashy]

Imagine we get to the Paranormal Orphans chapter (410) in the anime, and instead of a normal narrator like Midoriya or AFO, it's just- Present Mic.

*Present Mic*

DAMN MAMA-RAKI! YOU REALLY GAVE BIRTH TO THAT?!

If only he was swept away by the river at birth and drowned- COUGH!!!

[vinyls-and-valentines]

Putting one specific antagonist of mine under the microscope to figure out how the fuck he managed to get away with being emperor for like. Almost half a millenia before anyone came along and beat his ass

[critterbitter]

re: your thoughts on legendaries (which is very cool and based) what’s your take on the differences between legends:arceus giratina and platinum giratina, especially since you defined them as hating the world? specifically the bit where giratina (at least seemingly) actively defended the world from cyrus trying to destroy it, after trying to do the same thing with volo’s help centuries prior?

Weird ghost worm upon yee (AND MORE ART BELOW CUT!)

Anyways, here’s my mad ramblings about Giratina and Arceus’s backstory.

Tldr: Giratina’s a conglomerate of angry souls scorned by Arceus.

(Here’s the playlist. It’s all about worms.)

How it Started.

The original one has chosen favorites over the passage of time. Heroes, legends, protagonists…

Arceus intervenes for those it loves, and the consequences of a god touching the mortal world is devastating in its entirety. One act of divine intervention causes entire civilizations to collapse. One whispered suggestion drives an entire legacy insane.

So Arceus, paralyzed by its love for the mortal world, acts very little, learning from its mistakes. Apathy soaks through every motion. And thus is the way of the world.

But people love the Originator. Religions are born from Arceus’s rare deeds, and generation on generation taught its benevolence. Imagine spending your entire life chasing after that golden light. Imagine knowing its real and there, and it loves you.

Imagine begging it for help, and seeing it turn away when you need it most.

I think those people would feel very abandoned indeed, if they spent their lives worshipping, and receiving no response at all.

Giratina is born from the abandoned, the lost, and the angry. They’re a hundred thousand souls who’s adoration turned to spite. They’re an entity who demands for Arceus to look at them, so they can finally rest.

Arcues can not look at them in full, because if it does Giratina will fade.

(Scio, beloved. For I can not let you go.)

So the Original One banishes the Unwanted Beast into the distortion world, and Giratina seethes, and starves, and screams.

(Here are two truths about the Beast Between Dimensions—

1. Some part of them still loves Arceus. Arceus is their anchor, after all— the sole reason why they exist, why they are. But Arceus can not love it back in a way that matters, and that hurts.

2. Giratina is made of a thousand voices. Some of these voices remember that there’s a world above. They miss it.)

Why Giratina attacked Hisui in PLA:

PLA Giratina’s not a new god, but they’re very, very bitter and barely coherent on a good day. Volo serves as a conduct to help unite the broiling mass of ghosts against Arceus, and thus Giratina’s hatred overcomes any flickering affections they have for the land.

It doesn’t help that Arceus intervened for Hisui, sending Akari to directly stop Volo from summoning Giratina.

(As for Volo, well.

Imagine being a child who was thrown into the future due to Palkia and Dialga’s fits, who learned his people (his world) no longer exist beyond a shadow in the history books and a single, bitter lore keeper.

Volo doesn’t remember his original culture beyond vague imprints and singing praises to Sinnoh, but he knew he was loved, and he knew his family is dust four hundred years in the past. There’s a special sort of rage in him that echoes Giratinas.)

(Why did you abandon my people, Arceus? What kind of god are you, to leave those who love you so callously behind?)

(Maybe some part of Giratina recognizes Volo, beyond a feeling of kinship.

Maybe some part of Giratina grieves because it recognized the child Volo was.)

When Volo gets his pound of flesh, (when he realizes Arceus is not beholden to him, that the inherent alien morality Arceus holds is not a personal slight), Giratina will finally rest.

Anyways what I’m trying to say is: Arceus is never a person, but a nebulous embodiment of the connection shared between pokemon and humans. It tries to experience what it’s supposed to embody, but millennia of watching people be and cease has given it choice paralysis, apathy, and a hoarding issue. If something lasts forever next to it? Good.

Giratina was once a person. (Correction, a LOT of persons.) They don’t think very linearly either, but they have context on mortal matters and are thus the more benevolent and malicious of the two. One day, time will smooth them into something like Arceus. We can only hope the two keep each other in check.

THE DIFFERENCE OF LEGENDS ARCEUS GIRATINA VS PLATINUM PEARL GIRATINA

If the ancient version of giratina is an angry conglomerate of ghosts scorned by Arceus, the modern iteration of Giratina’s a creature that’s more settled in its skin and more assured in its duties. Giratina still has beef with Arceus, but they unionized into one being who’s love of the mortal world has triumphed over its ancestral grudge. One might even postulate they have shifted their anchor from Sinnoh the god, to Sinnoh the place.

((We call this character developement. Good for you, weird ghost worm!))

(((FULL DISCLOSURE, VOLO BEING FROM THE PAST IS INSPIRED FROM FOXFALL. You know. The fic that got me into this fandom. Please give it some love.)))

[notsodelirious]

Anon from that last ask here, yes king i am also down for goody two shoes hero reader 🫡🫡🫡

appreciate it 💀 here you go <3 (original ask here)

synopsis: Jason swoops in and fucks up your mission, and you deserve compensation

notes: NSFW MDNI, also no, I cannot explain why some of my Jason fics end up with a vague undertone of pet play I’m normal I swear (it’s mostly his muzzle mask)

tags: dubcon (but Jason is very much into it, mostly the illusion of lack of choice), restraints, anal, reader is pretty mean, bickering, rivals to lovers(?), male reader, roughly 2k words, no use of y/n

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

You’d been too late—you’d been trailing this group for weeks, tracking their movements, detailing their transactions, cross referencing every single background check, alibi, crumb of information.

For nothing.

To find the entire gang either dead or close to dying.

You only felt anger as your footsteps, dampened by the blood under your soles, squelched as you moved forward into the carnage. They were traffickers, human traffickers, some of the worst scum of the earth you had ever seen but even then you couldn’t bear to look down at the corpses lying at your feet.

“Fuck.”

“You like it?”

You already knew who it was—you didn’t need to turn around to see his smug grin or his lazy stride as he came up behind, leaning over your shoulder.

“Heard you were looking for ‘em, so I thought I’d do you a solid.”

“This isn’t doing me a solid.”

This was bleak, undeserved, morbid. Undeserved? Maybe not. But it was cruel.

“You can’t keep murdering them.”

“They can’t keep doing crime,” he shrugged as you heard him holster his guns and walk around you and finally came into view. You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“You still can’t kill them, Jason.”

He paused to look up at you—you couldn’t tell behind the muzzle but you knew he was smiling behind his mask.

“Oh, we’re on a first name basis now?”

“I think you’re changing the subject.”

“Oh, am I, Mr Goody Two shoes?”

He stalked back towards you—you always noticed when he squared his shoulders, trying to look so much bigger than you but you were both vigilantes. He was strong, yes, but you all were, you had to be.

Somewhere, his intimidation tactics started leaving you less scared—you didn’t want to think about what was left in its place.

“Fucking bite me.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Your hand shot out before you could think; grabbing his face and pulling down towards yours, the metal of his muzzle was unforgiving under your gloved fingers. So close he smelled of blood and smog, like a true Gothamite born and bred—only a lifetime of misery and spite could leave such a sour taste.

“Can’t even be muzzled properly, bitch.”

“You love hearing me call your name too much for that.”

You couldn’t even retaliate before you felt a blow to the kneecap, sending you sprawling to the ground with a grunt and he was off, climbing up into the rafters of the warehouse.

He gave you a cheeky wave before he disappeared out the window, leaving you to scramble after him.

You ran across shipping containers as he yelled asinine insults back at you—he knew he was getting under your skin. He loved it, riling you up, pushing you further and further in the hopes of seeing you snap.

You never had.

Not until now.

You didn’t know what random Gotham rooftop he had escaped to. It was the same depressing grey everywhere anyway.

The only things of note were the chain link fence that wrapped around the rooftop parapet and the hole you both climbed through to get where you were.

Jason had slowed during your chase—being chased upstream from the Gotham harbour up into Chinatown would do that to a person, even as trained as Jason. It was the only reason you had managed to grab him before he could fully climb over the fence and dragged him back down, almost smiling when he landed with a thud.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” you said through heavy breathing before you were dragged down to the ground alongside him. It was only through his will that you got him on his stomach, his arm in a lock, and he stayed still as you held him. You ignored how your dick pressed against his ass, or how you were practically straddling his thighs.

“You wish I was a pain in your ass,” you could hear the damn smirk in his grin again as you tugged his arm further, listening to him hiss. But he didn’t break away.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you do that.”

“What, you? A fucking top? Give me a break,” he snorted.

You didn’t answer, not as you slipped the handcuffs out of your utility belt and around his wrists, swiftly passing the chain behind on the fence post.

You leaned forward, chest pressed along Jason’s back as you reached around to pull his mask off. His body was so warm against yours, still panting and sweaty, no doubt from the exertion—but maybe also from the sudden realisation of entrapment.

“You? A bottom? Because this is what it’s looking like.”

He blinked as he looked down at his wrists, at his very handcuffed wrists, before he tugged harshly, making the entire chain link fence rattle but the restraints didn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” he spat, looking over his shoulder to see you grinning down at him victoriously.

“What’s wrong, baby? Stuck?”

Your hands trailed down, gripping his waist softly—his shoulder-to-waist ratio was truly stupid and caused you to stare more than you probably should. You tugged at his shirt a little, revealing just a sliver of skin.

“You sly fucker, let me go-“

“Which one of these pockets has the lube, hmm? Is it this one?” You groped around his hips as you helped him up onto all fours before you went rifling through his utility belt. You brandished a pocket-sized bottle lube and a condom with a knowing smile.

“How naughty.”

“For fucking... sex ed, you dick.”

“Uh huh, that’s what we’re going with? Sex Ed?” You set both items to the side as you leaned over him again, pulling his hood down so you could see the nape of his neck, the small hairs that were raising along his skin. “You’re such a shit liar,” you whispered as you ran your hand through his hair, lightly scratching the back of his head with blunt nails.

His head dropped the slightest bit and the tension in his shoulders relaxed a little.

“That’s it… good boy.”

“Fuck off,” he groaned but didn’t raise his head. He tugged again at the handcuffs, softer this time, but they wouldn’t budge—the fence post was rusted and poorly cemented into the parapet so it would have probably budge if he’d just twisted his hands a little.

“Not so tough anymore?”

You rolled your hips against his ass as you gently cupped his bulge, only smiling brighter at the feeling of his dick tenting his trousers.

“Such a shit liar.”

“Get the fuck-“ he tried to buck you off but you only used the momentum to pull down his clothes, exposing his cock to the cold Gotham night air.

“Fuck!”

“There you are, gorgeous,” you stroked his cock kindly, watching him twitch and tense in his restraints as he tried to muffle his sounds—it only made your own dick strain uncomfortably in its confines.

You let go of his dick in favour of grabbing his ass, pulling his cheeks apart just to see his hole wink at you, clenching around nothing. You tugged a glove off with your teeth before dropping it.

“Stop fucking teasing.”

“Well which is it?” you asked as you picked up the lube, watching him shiver as you pour some onto his asshole, “Fuck off or stop teasing?” You cover your own fingers before you’re pushing into him, a single finger at first.

He winced as you pushed the second and third in—maybe a little prematurely but your heart leapt at the sound of his whimper as you stretched him open, petting his warm walls.

“Fucking dick,” he grumbled as he tensed around your fingers, acclimatising to the burn.

“Yes, that’s the goal.” You laughed as you held his hips down so he couldn’t kick you, just before curling your fingers into his prostate, watching him fall limp and moan loudly, as if you weren’t finger fucking him on an open rooftop.

You wiped your fingers on his thighs as you pulled out, when you deemed him stretched enough to take you, before reaching down for a condom and the lube again.

“Ready, baby?” you asked but didn’t really care for an answer as you pushed the tip of your cock into his tight warmth. “Oh fuck-“ you gripped his waist as you sat still for a minute, all in an attempt to not blow your load immediately.

You pushed into him slowly, inch by inch just watching as his ass swallowed you whole.

“Ah, ah, shit,” Jason groaned as he dropped his head.

“What’s that handsome?” you smiled before slamming yourself down to the hilt, just to hear him cry out. You grip the back of his hair as you start fucking into him, taking your time as you rut against him, tilting his head so you can see his face, cheeks flush and lips parted. “Aww, is somebody going to cry?”

“So much,” he mumbled as tears brimmed his eyes and yeah, being underprepped and having a fat cock shoved into your ass would make you feel that way.

You just cooed as you leaned down to kiss his cheek, still thrusting into his tight warmth, groaning softly when he’d clench around you.

“You fucking love it, don’t you?” you said as your hands found his balls, rolling them in your hands, watching his cock twitch and leak more pre-cum, dripping onto the concrete floor beneath you, “Keep fucking pushing my buttons—all to get me to fuck your dumb ass, huh?”

You let go of him, pushing your gloved fingers between parted lips instead, watching him gag and drool around the rough leather. His eyes rolled back as you tilted your hips, a punched out moan leaving his mouth as his entire frame trembled, chains jangling against the fence post.

“Did I find the spot?” you smiled as you slammed down again and again, bullying his prostate with your cock. You saw the tension in his jaw before he could bit down on your fingers—you pressed down on his tongue and pulled his mouth open, “No fucking biting.”

You could tell it was coming as he moaned as he laid helplessly beneath you—body tensed and you felt his balls draw up in your hands before he was shooting ropes of cum onto the floor beneath him, his walls tightening around your dick.

You fucked him through his orgasm before tumbling close behind, burying yourself into his ass, dumping your load into the rubber.

“Fuck,” you breathed, heart racing as you looked at the debauched sight beneath you—you pulled away from him completely, listening to him whine as his asshole clenched around nothing, face covered in drool and eyes hazy. “So fucking gorgeous.”

You pulled your condom off and wiped your fingers on his thighs one last time before you tucked yourself away. You unlocked his handcuffs, catching him before he could slump forward face first into the concrete.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay,” you said softly as you brushed his hair back, “You did good.”

“Fuck off,” it was barely more than a rasp but it made you chuckle softly anyway.

“You like me too much for that,” you said in the same soft tone as you tried to wipe down as much of your mess as possible with a tissue before eventually giving up and just shimmying him back into his clothes.

You snorted at the face he pulled.

“You can shower at mine,” you promised as you wiped his face with your sleeve.

“Yours?” he croaked.

“What you trust me to fuck you up the ass but not bring you back to mine?” you laughed as you carefully helped him stand, grin only widening as he winced, “Hate to tell you, mate, but the worst that could happen already happened.”

“You’re such an ass,” you opened your mouth but he just covered it, glaring a little more effectively, “Can it.”

You just raise your hand in surrender before you help him gather your stuff off the rooftop, leaving nothing more than a cum stain on the concrete before the two of you are off disappearing into the night again.

“So, round 2 in the shower?”

“No. My ass hurts.”

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

This was actually so much fun to write when I realised I could tweak that minor detail lol—I really love writing queer relationships

requests are open <3 yes I am ignoring my schoolwork to write these but it’s fine

[areyoufeelingwhelmedyet]

If I see another “Batman thinks he saved his kids, but really he destroyed them” or any iteration of him purposefully making the robins and co child soldiers I’m going to lose my mind.

LISTEN TO ME AND LISTEN CAREFULLY: these fucking kids would have found a way, one way or another to cause havoc on the criminals of Gotham with or without the care and training of Batman.

Remember, these kids could have stopped at any point, all they had to do was say so but no. After every traumatic event, after every fight with Bruce, after every death/almost death…they still put on their cowls and fought crime.

Let’s not forget the roots of these characters:

Dick: wanted to kill Tony Zucco

Barbara: Wanted to save Gotham like her father, ended up saving Bruce Wayne, then continued to play hero in spite of Batman telling her not to

Jason: ballsy street kid

Tim: stalked and negotiated his way into being Robin

Steph: went out on her own to stop her criminal father, legit ‘spoil’ his plans

Cassandra: born and raised weapon

Damian: born and raised weapon, thought being Robin was his born given right

Duke: willingly joined the ‘We Are Robin’ movement to fight for Gotham

What are you guys not getting? This information of how each kid becomes a vigilante is free…you don’t even have to read a comic, just look it up on wikis.

That is all, good day

[nightshiftshenanigans]

Hi hi!! Back at it again with another Who Wrote That game on the @haunting-heroes-creative-games Discord server! This time, my fic was for the Who Wrote That: Demon Twins AU game run by the amazing @thewritingowl and @tourettesdog !! I really hope y’all enjoy!🥰💕

Danyal was the eldest twin, born first into a world promised to him through sweet words from the lips of others. His training was harder, the expectations placed on his shoulders far greater than those for Damian. He'd spent his whole life preparing to take up the mantle destined for him.

In spite of everything, he took the most pride in his ability to provide for his twin. However, all it took was a single threat against the one he cared for most to inspire true fear in his heart. When faced with no other option, Danyal took Damian away from the League.

When Damian needed clothes, he found them for him. When he needed to sleep, Danyal would find someplace hidden for the night. When Damian needed sustenance to keep running, Danyal did what he could to provide. In fact, that was how they found themselves in a small, old fashioned diner in Smallville, Kansas.

Danyal would do anything to keep Damian safe. To provide whatever he needed to stay strong.

But... who would take care of Danyal?

OR

Danny and Damian ignore Stranger Danger and get a Dad out of it :D

[anika-ann]

Take the Ache - pt.1

Part 1: The Us in Trust (gone)

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 4700

Summary (series): An Avengers’ ally, a brilliant weapons designer, one of the closest friends to Steve Rogers; you’ve been carrying all these titles with pride. And now it seems they are all crumbling down at once, torn down by allies, enemies and by yourself.

How can you fix it? How can you win when your traitorous heart fights for what you’d always wanted and never had?

If you work hard enough, you can do justice to the word 'hero' in your codename. Maybe. But can you really be enough to take the 'ache' from heartbreak?

Series masterlist

Warnings: allusions to slightly self-destructive behaviour, mild pain, minor injury, self-doubt, mention of death

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; this prologue is a flashfoward and is very short, especially on my scale; title is, just like chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2:  No use of Y/N. Main character's nickname made up by Steve is 'Lo (will be expalined at some point, promise)

This feeling – this absurdly heavy sensation in your chest and stomach – was killing you.

It was nothing short of suffocating – and that fact alone was even more absurd and defied all science there was.

Because it shouldn’t feel like this.

It could be unpleasant, yes, but it shouldn’t feel like your ribs were being crushed, a phantom of debilitating pain you knew wasn’t really there. And yet it was.

Your knuckles ached. Hurt. Stang. You suspected that was the courtesy of you having wrapped the tape around your hands wrong; but you weren’t exactly an expert and you had no patience to watch a video, nor the heart to try and remember the details Steve had so gently taught you. Mainly because it was his fault that you were here in the first place.

It was her fault.

You punched the bag again and again, focusing on the sting to help you disperse the memory of Steve very carefully laying his hands on your hips to lead your movements during punches, because the key to having a mean right and left hook was the impulse for the punch coming with the slight rotation of the hips. Even Steve did so to create the explosive power behind his punches, despite his arms being ten times stronger than yours and the size of goddamn bowling balls, the muscles of his arms threaded by the supersoldier serum.

Now, you punched the bag purposely without that rotation as to out of spite; unfortunately, you also miscalculated the power behind the hit as well as the angle of the impact, and failed to properly tighten your hand in the wrist, resulting in a sharp jolt of pain all the way up to your elbow.

You hissed and shook the hand, taking a few breaths before you kept going; this time mindful of clenching hard enough. At least you hoped you did.

After all, you couldn’t quite tell; you were no expert.

That was the problem to begin with – you weren’t skilled at combat. You didn’t need to be, because you weren’t an agent. Steve had been kind enough to teach you, because he had wanted you to be able to defend yourself at least a bit just in case he wasn’t around.

At the time, you hadn’t found it insulting. In fact, you had found it charming. You had turned almost starry-eyed at the fact that he cared that much, the sincerity and worry in his gaze, along with an almost palpable enthusiasm, perhaps born from being able to teach you something and even show off in front of you.

You had been wrong.

You were a smart woman, but apparently, you were also an idiot.

An idiot who could never match the expectations one of your closest friend had for his future partner. That was, if you could even still call Steve a close friend, when the amount of time you had spent together lately was decreasing at alarming pace.

The thought of losing the bond with him stung much sharper than the microcracks to your skin under your wraps, bringing frustrating tears into your eyes.

With a lovechild of a huff and a growl, you hit the bag harder; and you almost wished you could give yourself a real reason –a physically painful reason – to cry.

But wasn’t the loss of a dear friend a good enough reason? Mourning the loss of shy hope? Wasn’t anger, eating you alive, good enough either? Because you were angry. So damn angry.

At yourself.

At Steve.

At Sharon.

She had simply walked in in her badass agent attire, perfect hair and light touch of make-up accentuating her natural beauty, all lean and gentle curves and the perfect brains and her stupid last name and went and stomped on your hopes like they meant nothing.

You huffed again and dropped your hands, wiping away the sweat at your brow, inhaling and exhaling before you gritted your teeth and hit the bag again.

It was wrong of you to think that way, you knew. It was incredibly unfair.

But you really did dislike the woman, as much as she didn’t deserve it.

And that might have been the worst part; Sharon didn’t deserve even a lick of your antipathy.

She was one of the most likeable people you had ever met. She had that magnetic personality and looks of a woman who attracted anyone in her vicinity with her kindness and smiles and brilliance and courage and skill. And while it was true that Steve was a supersoldier, he was also only human. He was only a man. You couldn’t blame him for falling for her, for spending so much time with her, be it at work and outside of it. The whole team was, too, even if there were probably less than romantic feelings involved than in the former case. Again, you couldn’t blame the team; and not only because Sharon sure as hell made for a better company that you did these days.

Hell, had your heart not belonged to another already, you would have probably fallen in love with her too.

And boy, was she was around too much for anyone to resist her pull.

She was around a lot.

Ever since the joined operation of SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative to take down a rogue fraction of former HYDRA had started, Sharon practically moved in to the compound, simply for the convenience of not having to commute and rushing in here whenever the team found a new lead. In fact, with her knowledge, experience and skill, she was an indispensable part of the very team. And they were always planning, discussing different angles, gathering intel, training so they could coordinate their attacks better. She was basically a new Avenger at this point, deservedly so.

And what were you?

A scientist. A weaponry designer.

You tried your best to keep the team safe, yes, to give them what they needed so they could continue saving the world, but you were technically nothing but a glorified lab rat.

Sharon Carter, the legendary Agent 13 on the other hand? She was out there. With Steve. And with others. She truly had their back. Kicking ass and probably looking flawless while doing so, Lara Croft style.

You weren’t unfit, but you could never keep up; let alone measure up. Compared to her, you were but A. Pathetic. Little. Human. With. A. Lame. Right. Hook. There was barely any power behind your hits.

And you knew that you were being mean and were exaggerating and that you were viewing her and yourself through the lens of jealousy and frustration and hurt, but that didn’t change the fact that all these things were true and you were feeling nauseous whenever you saw her face or god forbid her and Steve in the same room.

Shaking your head again, you continued punching, breaths coming out heavy and ragged, a courtesy of your work-out and your work-out only; it had nothing to do with the suffocating feeling of the crashed hopes you had been trying to push away when you had thrown yourself into work consuming you.

Nothing at all.

“Hey you,” sounded from behind your left shoulder without warning, causing you to waver, your hand slipping along the bag with your wrist bent, another jolt of pain riding up your forearm.

You turned on your heels with a hiss, heart thundering in your ribcage at the fright – and at the fact that your thoughts of Steve might have actually summoned him:

Summoned him to stand there in all his glory, white tee and grey sweats and trainers, with worry etched into his brows as he immediately went to inspect your left hand without as much as a greeting at your part, a murmured sorry on his lips.

You swallowed hard, unable to speak a single word.

He was beautiful. He was such a ridiculously beautiful human being, inside and out, his fingers tender as they cradled your slightly achy wrist attentively, gaze meeting yours with another wordless apology.

You had almost forgot how your heart stumbled whenever you saw him, how the slightest hint of his smile could take your breath away.

You had almost forgotten because you had been trying your best to avoid him, to avoid the heartache that came with knowing he wasn’t and would never be yours, the knowledge solidified by his absence you too might have had a hand in but regretted it all the same.

But he had started it. He had replaced you. He-

-was talking to you, apparently.

“’Lo? Are you okay?”

“Hm?”

You dropped your hand from his as if he burned you by speaking the special nickname only he was allowed to call you, the soft sound bringing a smile to your lips automatically. He wouldn’t even have to address you, however; your lips acted on their own volition whenever, ache or not, because Steve made you smile. And for all your stubbornness, your chest still felt lighter at merely seeing him even now.

That was what being in love with him felt like.

It was an evil juxtaposition; wishing to be in his soothing company, unable to get enough, and despising it at the same time because of the feelings that had so inconveniently took your heart by a storm.

It was a dilemma in which self-prescribed isolation until you’d settle your foolish heart seemed like the best option – that was, until his eyes roamed your face with concern and all the work you had put into stomping on the fluttery sensation in your chest upon seeing him looking at you like that turned into nothingness, denying the basic law of physics.

You knew there was a way out of this inner turmoil; you knew were being childishly angry and that acknowledging that was the first step.

You knew that eventually you’d come to terms with Steve being with Sharon, because ultimately, you wished him all the happiness in the world.

You knew you’d learn to live with the fact that the happiness simply wasn’t with you and you’d make your peace with you and him remaining good friends.

It was just not quite the time yet.

And until then, you’d have a hurricane in your ribcage and an earthquake in your mind whenever you’d see him, affection and animosity rising and falling like a tide.

You cleared your throat, brought back to the reality by the sound of your name.

“I’m fine, Steve. I don’t even feel it anymore.”

“I’m glad,” he said, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know. It’s okay. I just didn’t hear you,” you admitted. “Got lost in my thoughts.”

“A new brilliant invention in the works then?”

You chuckled, the light-hearted question taking you by too much surprise to hide the bitterness in the sound, and reached for your water bottle.

“Sure. That.”

You took a swing from the bottle, the cool liquid soothing to both your throat and your nerves.

You never used to be nervous around Steve – not like this. There had never been molecules of charged with awkward energy, not this much at least; whatever nerves you used to be feeling always tasted more of giddiness and content deep within your soul.

Funny how quickly things could change when certain blonde strode into your lives.

But you couldn’t blame Sharon. You shouldn’t blame her, because she was just a correlation, but the cause. Sharon or not, Steve would have made a move ages ago if he had been interested and you, you could have tried to make a move too, had you had the courage and truly believed the probabilities he had wanted you to be more than friends with him were high. But you hadn’t.

You still didn’t.

No question of that nature from neither you nor Steve. Because Steve had been waiting for the right partner as he had always been saying and that partner wasn’t you and now, she finally showed up and occupied an unhealthy childishly large portion of your brain no matter how much you tried to shush that green monster living in your head and eating up your heart.

A new brilliant invention, Steve said. How about something to make jealousy settle? Maybe you should start working on that, it would be a hit. Or perhaps you could work on some kind of a shield to hide yourself from Steve’s softly inquisitive gaze – like the one he was watching you with now – that had always made you fold and reveal your cards, no matter how close to the chest you had planned to play them.

He had no damn right to stand there, head slightly tilted to side, brows furrowed with concern, making your stomach clench, sending your pulse fluttering. Not when he-

“Is everything okay? I feel like we’ve been like ships that pass in the night lately…”

I’m surprised you noticed, you thought bitterly, instantly chastising yourself for that unfairly aggressive note, swallowing the venom of the words forming on your tongue. You shrugged instead.

“We’ve been busy. With the HYDRA fraction popping up… we both have our plates full.”

“Never stopped us from making time for each other before,” he whispered, insistent, his lips pursed slightly in thought, the same focus he directed on the world around him when he was either strategizing or wondering how he could capture the image in front of him on paper evident on his face.

Being on the receiving end of that look of his used to be a privilege; now, it was what you imagined being stabbed in the gut felt like. With a twist of the knife added for good measure.

Never stopped us before, he said.

‘Before’, you weren’t crushing if not in love with your fellow ridiculously charming agent, you thought, hiding the remark behind another shrug.

“Yeah, well-“

Your voice died in your throat as Steve’s fingers sprawled gently over your forearm, effectively stopping you in your tracks before you could turn away to move onto stretching, trapping you in the bottomless sea of the unfairly tender emotion in his irises.  

“I miss you.”

Your throat closed up as the words echoing the very same sentiment got stuck there, your heart now hammering painfully against your ribs and sternum.

Yeah. You missed him too.

His warmth, his kindness, his vulnerability, the quiet way he seemed to understand you without words.

Of all the Avengers, as much as you liked them every single one of them, Steve was your favourite; and it wasn’t merely the attraction and the different nature of your affection for him. It was simply because it was Steve with whom you had formed a unique bond.

Getting along with Tony was easy despite him not being the easiest person to befriend; your shared interests and your more-than-common goal and expertise worked in your favour, your job as his right hand as well as working on your independent projects for the Avengers providing you with hours spent together without any forced interactions. Not to mention the role Tony’s excentric nature played; once he decided to figuratively adopt someone into his circle, you were just there.

Natasha, while intimidating, had the enormous advantage of being a woman. The platonic mother and sister to the team safe Bucky whose feelings for her were everything but platonic, she had an innate ability to convey her feelings about boys driving her crazy in a single glare, whether it was aimed at them to make them realize the absurdity of their behaviour or at you in silent sympathy. While you and her alike did not enjoy being in a room overflowing with oestrogen-driven creatures, you were a solace to each other when the room reeked of testosterone.

Bruce, on the other hand, had the same advantage as Tony. While his focus in science was slightly different than yours – even though between the number of his PhDs and other titles, it was hard to tell which was his main field – he was a relatively comfortable person to spend time with, at least in the lab, where you could either cooperate or stay out of each other’s way.

If Tony’s adoption figurative rights concerned his professional inner circle, Clint’s were more literal. He was the fun uncle, sometimes with ridiculous habits and antics, but whose wisdom could take one by surprise. Having seen all he had in his life, he appreciated simple things, simple friendships; and his aiming skill was as deadly with a bow or a gun as it was with well-meant advice or jokes.

Thor… well. Thor was a whole another species, someone you hadn’t had much chance to interact with; but the opportunities you had had, were nothing short of pleasant and bewildering, his boisterous nature reminding you of extroverts who simply found the most introverted person in the room and made them the centre of attention and their friend, whether they liked it or not. Those less-than-social people, you, in this scenario, would always end up enjoying themselves eventually; and you had to admit that much like Clint, Thor had a knack for cracking not only thunder, but also wisdom one often forgot he possessed.

Bucky was a person haunted by demons who sharpened his fists and tongue alike. A partially reformed ladies’ man who had seen way too much evil during his relatively short life and had been forced to commit almost half of that evil, he was a surprising wild card of the team. He was deadly – on battlefield, in training, in personal life, n verbal sparring with Sam. He’d die for his people and would live for them all the same. He was a storm; a slightly unpredictable force Natasha knew how to navigate, almost as good as Bucky himself did. Oftentimes you weren’t sure what you and Bucky were, whether you were friends or not but the fact alone that you were – or had been – close to Steve earned you his respect and care. The fact you could work on his mechanical arm helped too.

Sam’s warm energy and his innate ability to make people around him comfortable made him a natural friendship material – not to mention his utter fascination with the things you could do to improve his favourite robotic buddy Redwing. From TV and music and books to the mysteries of life, he was, in a way, an opposite to Steve. Where Steve and you seemed to understand each other without as much as a single word, with Sam, it was through words.

And Steve… well. ‘Special’ was not enough of a word to encompass the complexity of him and all the ways in which he was exceptional, as an entity and to you. Politely inviting from the start, assuming the responsibility of the unofficial team leader and official strategist, he had clearly worked to make you feel comfortable and welcomed, even as you were more of an Avenger-adjacent employee than anything else. However, the true bond had been forged in quiet moments and through similarities and contradictions of your pair.

Like a pair of twins, you both carried around a sketchbook or a notebook with a pencil, almost without fail. But where you drew designs of ideas suddenly born in your head, only to make them into reality later, Steve did the opposite; he drew what already was reality laid in front of him, only to bring it alive on paper for the second time, capturing it so vividly you were certain it would rise from the page any moment. Where your specialty were inanimate objects, his was people. The number of times that found you in the common room when you couldn’t sleep, ending with both of you lounging on the couch, often touching in an inconspicuous but reassuring and encouraging ways, were next to astronomical.

The second experience you bonded over, however, was much darker – but perhaps brought you even closer. To a point, you shared it with all the Avengers, with all your close friends; but there was something about the way you could relate to Steve so profoundly and vice versa that solidified your relationship with him in particular.

You both wanted to help people. And despite doing your best, you did so in ways that sometimes made you lose sleep, good intentions tainted with violence. You did help; and to do so, you hurt. Steve with his impeccable strategy and iron-solid fists; you with the weapons you designed. And when that darkness crept in too close, so close it seemed to come from within, you found each other; you shared each other’s light and reminded one another that violence was never your primary purpose and was but a momentary means for future tenderness.

Where you struggled to grant yourself the same benefit of doubt on your own, you never had doubts about him; with Steve, it rang true. Not a soldier, not an usurper; a protector’s soul. As much as you tried to convince yourself that what you were made of the same thing, that you were merely protecting your teammates and other people from much more merciless displays of power, in the cold space of your room and workshop, it wasn’t always enough for you to believe. Being with Steve – spending time with Steve – always made you a believer.

Even now, with his cerulean eyes still observing you, the ugly feeling brewing in your gut – the jealously, the envy – felt so much more tender and much less evil, his touch grounding you and wordlessly whispering a plea to cut yourself some slack and allow yourself to feel whatever your heart thrummed with.

“You spaced out for a bit… feels like you’re always miles away,” he said, his thumb pressing softly into your forearm. “Miles away from here, but from me too. And I can’t help but wonder… did I do something to wrong? Offended you or hurt you? If I did it wasn’t my intention.”

Your breath caught in your throat, alarm bells ringing in your head as you tried to gather your thoughts and get your expression under control as not to give him any hints, even as your mind spoke of the things he had or hadn’t done so painfully clearly.

You exist. You exist and you are happy, just as happy without me as you were when I was by your side, as a friend, a mere friend with silly hopes-

You had to stop with these thoughts. That was not on him. Not really.

Pushing you to backburner because of loving someone else was barely something you could hold against him. Friends didn’t do that to each other, but you were also aware half of the distance put between you was on you and at your attempts to deal with your own feelings.

You sighed, willing the corners of your lips to rise reassuringly as you squeezed his hand on you before escaping his hold, pretending you didn’t feel as if he had had drawn his mark on your skin in ink for you to remember.  

“You didn’t.”

“Did something happen then?” he pressed, the protective note that always made your heart race finding its way into his voice, enticing you to tell him everything and let him make it okay. Except he couldn’t. No one but you could. “Are you-“

“It’s nothing, Steve. You… don’t worry about it. I just got a little busy at work,” you said, his expression speaking volumes about how much he knew that was a lie – or at least a half-truth and the goddamn genuine interest written all over his face made it so hard to think straight and resist- “I’m just--- working through something.”

His shoulders slumped, a barely-there movement to his hand as if he was about to reach out again. And you couldn’t bear it.

“And I need space to deal with it. On my own. Alone,” you added, willing yourself to raise your chin as to show you were determined to do it so.

Something flickered over Steve’s face, a quick emotion you didn’t get a chance to decipher as the door to the gym opened, drawing Steve’s eyes on instinct and yours as well.

The determination to resist Steve’s inquiries with a straight face skyrocketed in an instant, a jab to your gut making you strung like a bowstring in preparation for another hit. Because you would be prepared for that hit. And you would not be hurt nor shaken by Steve’s attempts to get in; for you to find peace for now, you needed to keep him out, at least at arm’s length.

The second and a half that took him to turn back to you was enough for you to steel your heart, a shield having gone up against his expression of concern and unfair gentleness wrapped in an intimately low voice.

“Okay. But if you ever-“

“It’s not your job to worry about me, Steve,” you cut him off, so sharply it made him actually flinch the tinniest bit, the emotion on his face clear this time.

Hurt.

He set his jaw tight despite the regret in his eyes, a courteous nod telling you just how deep that tone and words cut.

You hated yourself for putting that expression on his face; something heavy and solid, a wall you yourself had built appeared between you, blocking his attempt to reach out, and now, he had added his own side to it.

And if you kept going like this, that wall would cut him off from your life completely.

You gulped as the idea made something visceral in your bleed.

“I mean… I know you feel responsible for the whole team, Steve,” you said, this time mindful of your tone. “I just know you have enough things to worry about. And, uhm, Sharon’s waiting for you.” Your encouraging smile must have tuned into a grimace, but Steve didn’t mention it, the tension in his jaw easing just the slightest bit at the mention of his beloved. Of course it did. Your caricature of a smile hurt your cheeks. “Thank you for worrying about me, Steve, but I have to deal with this on my own. I’ll be fine. But I promise I’ll make space for my friend in my busy schedule, yeah?”

Now that brought a small smile on his lips, a little sparkle of almost-joy lighting up his eyes – and your heart ached.

“I’ll clear up mine… take care of yourself, ‘Lo, alright?”

“Aye aye, Captain. Have fun.”

He gave you one last smile before turning on his heels, jogging to Sharon. You held your face long enough for neither of them to see when your own smile slipped.

You left the gym not five minutes later, irritated with how their warm up – her warm up – naturally was three times more impressive than your whole work-out, your gloomy thoughts back like a seasonal cold.

You didn’t notice Steve’s lingering gaze as you walked away without as much as a goodbye, a sharp icy feeling settling in his already tight chest. He wasn’t an idiot; he knew you had been avoiding him. And you were hurting, your mind preoccupied with something; something you didn’t trust him with. Didn’t trust him enough to let him help you, to comfort you.

Seeing you walk away from the space he had barely just entered felt like letting you walk away from his life. It felt like losing you.

But he was not giving up without a fight.

He swore to himself he was done not pushing, ready to confront you the moment an opportunity would arise or was created by him.

He never got the chance.

With FRIDAY noticing a chatter about gathering forced in one of a few remaining bases of operations of HYDRA, all he got was your brief be careful addressed to the whole team.

Had he died on that mission, he’d die wondering if the words you had always took time to tell him and only him in person still applied and if you still truly cared whether he came back or not.

Next chapter // Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading, loves 💕 Thoughts, encouragements and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

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[stories4eve]

★ THE NEXT GENERATION OF HEROES, PARENTAL DYNAMICS!!★

( excuse me for any mischaracterzations of the beasts... I don't know their characters all that well yet!)

(★ @batshikns ... feels nessecary to tag you in this)

Pure Vanilla + his children.

★ Frozen yogurt, being his first child, already establishes a heavy attachment to each other. He absolutely loves his eldest. No matter how much he grows or how he changes, he will always be there to extend a hand to him and welcome him back into his open arms. Pure Vanilla, however, has concerns about his isolation. He tries to get him to make more friends, introduce him to other cookies, and what not. But he watches as they all misunderstand and leave Yogurt behind all alone. So, he picks him up, holds him tight in hopes that he gets the message that "I will always be here for you." But that isn't always something Frozen Yogurt remembers. When both his children do end up spiraling down, he can't help but still blame himself for not trying enough. Maybe if he had been there with Yogurt during that first revelation, this wouldn't have happened. He's not a perfect parent. No one is. There are times when he messes up, times when he has to look to both Hollyberry and Dark Cacao for help. But one thing will always remain: He will have himself ready for his children no matter what happens to them. He is always ready to lead them back on the path if they stray.

★ Cream Vanilla and him are close enough. She's his little angel. Beautiful little girl, whose smile is as bright as the sun. However, he seems to be too careful with her sometimes, and that can frustrate her. He's careful of what he says, but sometimes that little slip of the truth can hurt her by accident. It's not something that's huge, but over time, it can do something to Cream Vanilla. She knows she's not as great as her older brother, but can't understand why Pure Vanilla can't be honest to her about it.. I mean, it's what everyone thinks, right? But Pure Vanilla believes wholeheartedly that she is capable, just not in what Frozen Yougurt's able to achieve. Elsewhere, she will thrive, and he wants to tell her that, but the misunderstanding of his words is something that sticks to Cream Vanilla because because the mindset she's grown to have. Nontheless, he will love her no matter how much she grows to disdain him or curse him. He just wishes that she would wake up from the lies that she's built to protect herself and see that maybe she too has a chance at a fulfilling life.

Shadow Milk + his children

★ Shadow Milk never thought he'd ever be a father, but now here he stands. Despite all the knowledge he's collected over the years, nothing would have ever prepared him for fatherhood to this extent. He, truthfully, tries his best with Frozen Yogurt. Tries to teach him how to hone his magic, and they do form a relationship. One that's genuine, however, with flaws. Shadow Milk is more pushy with him to certain extents, too weary of him ending up like him someday. And when he finally does, Shadow Milk can't help but wonder - was it his insistence that he get out and really show out, caused this? After all, his son can only take so much, he wasn't born to be alone. With raising him, Shadow Milk takes a little bit of a different approach. With Vanillas' all-too-caring nature, someone has to be there to also be a little firmer. That doesn't change the fact that he loves his son. And when the end of his manic episode comes, when push comes to shove, and all has been said.. Like his husband, he will be ready to welcome him back. Albeit, he'll be a little more scolding, ruffling his hair and shaking his head, telling him to never attempt something like that again, all in good nature, though! He was definitely an emotional parent the very least. Part of him kept the joker side of himself, so trust me when I say that Frozen is tired of the badly timed dad jokes. He knows that he says them to spite him, and that's what he hates. They do love each other though.

★ Cream Vanilla? Oh they were the closest with each other! When she was younger, he'd dress up with her, make puppet shows, and other things for her to enjoy. She truly was his little princess. He sees a lot of Candy Apple in her, and that sort of endears him a little, so willing to learn and understand everything around her. However, he can't help but notice as she got older, she tried to avoid him. Was it something he said or did? Was it because he managed to call her out on every lie she told..? I mean, being his daughter, and him being the master of lies, it wasn't hard to tell-- atleast to himself-- when she was lying. What did she want to lie about anyway? Maybe it was how she truly felt, abandoned.. Not enough, never enough for everyone else? He hates the thought of her self-loathing. Does she even know how much he adores her? How much will he give up for her and her brother? Albeit, he is a little blind to her jealousy towards her older brother, and doesn't understand her reasonings then. When she turns away from them for good, he can't help but feel conflicted. He learns of how she feels truthfully, how she lied just like him to protect herself and others from the world that they live in. He then finds that he understands her, and he will use that understanding to drag her back into the light, just as his other half did with himself.

Golden Cheese + Her children

★ Golden Cheese adores her first son dearly. Her children are her dearest treasures through it all! Goldie is a very involved mother within her child's life. Always checking in, always making sure Pepperjack has enough of everything. She even offered to train him in his combat, seeing as he uses a spear too! She teaches him to hold his head up high, never let the world make you kneel, instead make the world kneel to you. However, she can't help but sense the slight itch of doubt he has. He can't act as tall as he does around her, for she will see it. Golden Cheese makes it her goal to make him fully believe that he is capable of taking on her throne. Leading his people as he should, but sometimes, they can and will argue about it. Pepperjack is too careful. He needs to be bolder. Being too safe will only get so far. He needs to find a balance between the two as she has. Because they're both such large personalities, there's bound to be clashes in between and some distance. In the end, they resolve it through Spice having to convince her to try again with him. After all, that's what she did with Spice. Why not lend a hand to their son?

★ Her and Saffron have a good bond. Not nearly as close as she is with Pepperjack, as Saffron is most definitely more attached to Spice. That does not change that they have a loving relationship, however. She finds his determination to be admirable and his spirit? Just as bright as hers, maybe even more! She's proud of him in a way. However, with his stubborn mindset, destructive tendencies- even if they are unintentional - she is a little worried about his future. However, Golden Cheese will let time work its magic, as it has with her and everything else, and let the lessons he's learned change him for the better. She knows that with enough pushing, she'll get him on the right track. It's just a matter of getting him to listen... Quite honestly, Golden Cheese herself is still new to this whole parenting thing in the end and is trying to learn and figure out this new chapter of her life. As perfect as she tries to be, parenting can be challenging.

★ Kofta is her little mini me, her darling little princess that she spoils to no end. She'll dress her up in the finest of clothing, gift her everything she seems to ask for. Of course, there's a limit, Golden Cheese needs to set boundaries somehow. Kofta is a mommy's girl through and through. They go shopping for things together, they do spa days together - everything! There are points of tension between the two, just your average bickering between child and parent; you know, letting the girl take her own steps, let her be more independent. And sure, Golden Cheese understands that her children will leave the nest one day, but she can't help but want them to stay, at least Kofta to. Pepperjack was independent enough and matured faster than she expected. So it has just been her and Kofta for a while because Saffron will mature as well. Kofta, of course, understands her mothers longing for her children, but does remind her that she will have their father too. Eventually, Golden Cheese will let her go, maybe after arugement or two. Only to find that they will still be her babies, no matter how much they grow. Her precious little jewels through and through.

Burning Spice + his children

★ Spice was even more surprised and even more unprepared to be a father than Shadow Milk was. He was already a little uneasy around children, fearing that he'd unintentionally hurt such fragile things. When Pepperjack was first born, he was oh SO careful holding him, feeding him and what not. He was terrified of ever hurting something he finally created. Eventually, the scare goes away, and he adjusts to have little Pepperjack around. He often teaches him the history of the world around him, how the cycle of change begins and ends, how he has a very large responsibility on his back of upholding it when he's old enough. He tries his best to guide Pepperjack in the way Burning Spice thinks he should have gone before corruption. Teaching him that destruction is necessary for new roots to grow in place. But still, there is that overlooking fear he has that he will fail his children, and in turn, his wife too. Pepperjack and him don't argue a lot about much, but when they do, it does get messy. He kind of has to knock sense into him to try and reconnect with his mother during points of distance, but it's just for his sake in the end. Very much huge papa bear vibes from him <3

★ Spice and Golden Saffron are tight-knit. He teaches the boy how to fight and use an axe or other close ranged weapons! He worries the most about his future, though. Because he recognizes his thinking process, he recognizes that little part of himself in him. So he will sit him down, warn him and tell him that all that he had worked for, all that he has done to better himself would have been for nothing if Golden Saffron looses himself to destruction. He is a storyteller at heart and takes Saffron through the historic ruins of his temples and what not to bond with him. For the most part, growing up, they had a good relationship. Spice would help Saffron with those powers of his.. But the older Saffron got, the more pressure was applied on him, and that seemed to sort of cause a little rift in the relationship they have. Small arugements over outbursts turned into larger disagreements. Finally, everything comes out, and they resolve it through an intense spar. This time, Golden Cheese is the one to smack them both into sense to get along. They eventually reconnect and find peace.

★ Kofta is his pride and joy.. No, literally, he is doting on her from day one. From allowing her to dress him up in pink, huge bows, and telling her exaggerated stories about him and her mother.. Those are some of the better memories they have together. Just enjoying each other's company, Kofta looks up to her father. She thinks he's strong, one of the strongest people she will ever have the pleasure of meeting. That doesn't really change the older she gets. Sure, they turn their hangouts into more mature things-- like sparring or running errands together. However, they do tend to argue over Koftas own ever expanding ego and how she might need to tone it down a little. Other than that, it's a loving relationship between them, probably the one child Spice fights with the least, much to Golden Cheeses pleasure. Overall, she trusts him and looks to him for help, too. She enjoys messing with him as well, as much as she loves him. I mean, sure that gets her chased around, but it's all in good, loving nature between her and her papa <33

White Lily + Her child (and reaction to her untimely death)

★ Nodding Lily was White Lily's little miracle, her blessing from above. She adores her baby girl and finds their similarities in physical appearance, in almost everything so fascinating. She's always wanted to be a mother, wanting to know how it felt like to raise a cookie from the start. So she tries her best to be mentally prepared for her, to be there when she needs it. She absolutely encourages her creativity, and Nodding Lily finds her mothers support to be her stone when creating. They don't argue at all. Rather, they will sit and talk it out because they aren't the type to aruge. Whatever issues they have, Lily and her can resolve through peaceful conversation.. To a degree. White Lily isn't a perfect mom, but she sure is trying her hardest.. As for how she takes Nodding Lily's death? Oh, she's grieving, mourning her every hour of the day. There's a sort of bitterness that grows within her towards the others. How come their child wasn't subjected to Nodding Lily's own self-sacrificing power.. Was it her? Was it her fault that she let her child be pushed to the edge? She only now has her partner and can be seen holding onto them tighter ever since their child died. She had her whole life ahead of her, and now this? Was this how it felt like to loose too..? Maybe she understands the bitterness that Golden Cheese holds against her better now that she's experienced loss of her own. White Lily will leave her flowers every time, hoping that her baby, from wherever she's watching, will understand that she's still looking out for her.

Silent Salt + their child (and their reaction to her untimely death)

★Silent Salt.. How should I put it? Was it somewhat prepared? I mean, they understood this is what White Lily wanted the most, and who are they to deny her of anything? Come to find, they absolutely adore her too. She teaches them how to be more open-minded, stop oppresing certain parts about themselves, and teaches them how to be creative. In return, they teach her how to fight, use her powers, and try to guide her through a path of unity and solidarity instead of the crushing path of oppression. Often, they would be found walking together, painting or doing other things. They have this special spot near the old silver tree, where her and them have planted three lilies. One large purple one, the other a medium-sized white lily, and the last a small magenta Nodding Lily in the middle. Its a reminder that the three of them are a family forever. With the lessons she has taught them, they instill in her that her biggest source of support are the people that she holds close to her heart, and she reminds her to always look to them for everything, including themselves. They, too, don't argue, but they take concern to her, wearing herself out by being too much of a giver to everyone else. Remind her that she still is someone and a daughter to them besides being everyone's doormat. But.. to their utter, utter dismay, they still lost her. Failed her. Let her die, especially when it was in front of them and Lily. They couldn't save her from it, from the slow and painful wilting she took to her demise. They couldn't stop it. Her death was traumatic to her parents. Silent Salt had a hard time coping. They didn't know what to do or how to even come to terms with it. They just held onto White Lily even tighter, trying to keep her close, as close as they could so that they didn't lose her too. They sit in silence at her grave, at that special place they had together. Their silence speaks volumes, though. The wind howls, and it seems to convey the agony they feel. They light candles in her honor and even lay their helmet beside her grave as a reminder that she isn't alone.. even in the afterlife. They will carry her legacy within them, but that doesn't change the fact that she is gone.

Dark Cacao + his daughter

★ Choco Oat and him have such a complex relationship. He sees a lot of him within her, but also not. He understands the need she has to keep her kingdom and her people safe, but wants her to understand so desperately that she needs to stop and take it easy sometimes. But she is stubborn and unreltning, and he is too. That causes frustration that boils down into a huge argument. They also tend to bicker about smaller thing.. Choco Oat never really found it in herself to truly forgive her father for what he's done to Dark Choco. There's that, too. But she knows that he's trying. There are sweet moments between them where she'll climb onto his back as he sits.. filling out documents and whatnot. He'll braid her hair for her or style it when she can. They are still loving, and she has a somewhat better childhood than Choco had. Because he has learned from his past mistakes. He's as patient as he can be with her in the end, but sometimes it gets frustrating to talk to such a perfectionist. He does not understand why she must overthink every minute detail until he steps back and realizes he, too, in a way, was like that. But he cannot voice his sympathy for her without her retalating.. Insiting that she was fine and could handle it on her own. When her powers first came in, he was terrified that she would misuse them and end up like Dark Choco. So, he would encourage her to put its use to a minimum and try her best to repress it. Choco Oat somewhat understands, but doesn't as well.. Part of her wants to be free to use it, and feels slight bitterness about her father's response to it, the other part of her undersands that her and Dark Cacao share a common goal of wanting to protect the kingdom.. And that includes protecting them from her own power, too. But Mystic Flour takes notice of this, and rest assured she and Dark Choco will not tolerate this distance between them. After a long and angsty argument, they finally are honest and open-minded with each other, embracing one another as father and daughter do.. and with the help of Mystic Flour and his son, they build a better bond and learn to be there for each other when it was needed.

Mystic Flour + her daughter.

★ Choco oat and her are closer than she is with Cacao. Mystic Flour understands her baby girl and was actually the most prepared one to have a child as Cloud Haetae is not far from one. Though she has her own fears, she knows that under the right guidance, Choco Oat will turn out just fine. They spend some quality time together, weaving shrouds, tapestrys that tell stories. She often weaves silken robes for her daughter, and most of the clothes Choco Oat wears is from her mother. Because Mystic Flour seems to be the only one who understands her sense of style and comfort at the same time. Mystic Flour and her often pray and meditate together, too. She teaches her how to be a good tender to the pagoda and introduces her to Go and whatnot. As for points of tension, mainly it is Choco Oats' ever lasting perusit perfection for herself. Mystic Flour thinks it is.. well, outlandish at times, but she is not one to outright harshly judge her daughter. She will sit her down and talk to her sternly instead about reconnecting with her father and taking a break once in a while. It's only really up to her if she wants to listen now or later, but Mystic will take a page out of her husbands book and will be patient and unreltning with her. As for how she handles Choco Oats powers, unlike Dark Cacao, she tries and encourages her to use them freely in a safe area. Be in tune with them, channel them so that she too can use it for the greater good. Though Cacao is not fond of the idea at first, Mystic convinces him later on after that argument, and soon enough, Choco Oat will learn how to accept even the ugliest parts of herself. For chosing to be ignorant will only lead her down a path of Apathy.

Hollyberry + her twin children

★ Candied Berry and her? Absolute partners in the more daring activities! Hah, there would even be periods where her and Holly would run off together for a bit, go on a hunting trip for a week or two, and come back with spoils to share! Needless to say, they are very close. Hollyberry has finally found an equal with her for her passion, her bravery, her hope is so inspiring. Ever since Candied was a little girl, she would get herself into dangerous situations most of the time, and yes, that would concern Hollyberry. There are points where Holly thinks she's a little too bold, and that cause tension between them, they either spar it out or have a messy talk about it.. Candied Berry also tends to sort of nag her on taking so much Berry juice in daily.. She loves her mama, but too much is too much sometimes, and Candied wants her to know that! Of course, Holly stops when her children ask her. She's not the type to prioritize her juice over her kids, of course. Eventually, through her help, Holly will cut back on that addiction of hers.. But it's going to take a while between the both of them to help each other improve and be better. Hollyberry is willing to be there for her every step of the way, and she can only hope that Candied finds bravery within herself to face her own inner challenges just as she has faced her own long ago.

★ Sugared Berry reminds her of Royalberry in a sense. She finds his calmness to be equally grounding as her wife's own and finds that he and Eternal Sugar are voices of reasons to her and Candied. However, Sugared Berry is more insistent that his mother should take on healthier eating habits, take better care of herself, and what not. He often feels concern for her, and Hollyberry appreciates that. She too also finds that his burn out days can be rough on him too, and reminds him as well that he is still a cookie as well and needs his own rest periods. They don't find much to argue about, except for days where they just can not understand each other eye to eye.. However, Hollyberry is a good listener and will listen to her sons cries and calls, whatever their current state of tensions are. Also, it is worth noting that Hollyberry is one of Sugared Berry's biggest supporters musical career wise, she's always there clapping the loudest during his performances, and will encourage him to be passionate about it too! No matter how discouraged he may get. She will always be there to remind him to keep moving on and to stay passionate for the things he loves. Because she has been a mother before, and having new children doesn't mean she loses the lessons she learned with her first child.

Eternal Sugar + her twin children

★ One of the ones who are less prepared for kids.. Twins at that. She wasn't expecting two kids, but she would love them both deatly anyway. Candied Berry is much like her wife in a lot of aspects, passionate, brave, bold, and daring. For that, Eternal Sugar feels sort of endearment towards her. But she doesn't know where to start with teaching them anything, what to say - how to lead them to a life of happiness. She often looks to her wife for advice and tries her best to channel it, too. However, for Candied, she finds it harder to connect with her because of her nature being so different from Eternal Sugar's own. She still loves her, don't get me wrong, but there's a clear distance between her and Sugar sometimes that they're trying desperately to overcome, but it seems near impossible at times. Eternal Sugar can't quite wrap her head around the activities that Candied deems fun and was worried out of her mind when younger Candied got herself into situations where... It was near life-threatening. The scoldings she gave were a little firm and assertive, but she only wanted to protect her baby. However, now that that rambunctious child has grown into an even more off the walls teenager, she just sighs and shakes her head... Whatever is Eternal Sugar going to do with her?

★ Sugared Berry and her are extremely close, though. She finds his love for the harp, the lyre, instruments in general to be a lot like her passion for them too! She teaches him how to play the lyre and even the harp, and he has her to thank for his great skills. They definitely sit down and relax together when the day calls for it, and she even gives him little bracelets and necklaces she happens to have found from her old status as a virtue. However, they do aruge a little about his tendency to just give up. She can not allow him to go down the same path of sloth as she once did, and he does not understand what is so bad about slacking off from time to time. It's not as major as most of the other kids' issues.. but it does worry Eternal Sugar a lot, especially because she has never been a parent before and does not know what to expect of this. Do not fret, Hollyberry will help her, ease her worries, and allow her to find a way to communicate her concerns to her children in another way besides incessant nagging. Other than that, Eternal is a caring mother and is good at soothing and comforting her children to a degree at the very end.. Even if she isn't the most educated on the topic of parenting.

[tornado1992]

The world does not deserve some things.

It doesn’t deserve destruction, hate or cruelty.

Sonic has known this for quite a while, being some sort of fighter for nature or a so called “protector” of it by a lot of people, he’s not so sure about that though.

Just as the world can be beautiful it can become dreadful, the world gives origin to everything in it, and that everything is part of the world itself.

The people that live in it are the part that shows the contrast the most clearly, just as some inhabitants are kind, take care of each other and enjoy the wonders it has to offer, there was a few of them that seemed to spite everything that wasn’t like them, everything they didn’t like, and everything that wasn’t theirs. Sonic knows that, he’s been fighting that enough time to be named a protector.

All things considered, to him the world still meant kindness, endless opportunities, adventure… and it meant freedom.

Then it meant something else.

Between all his fighting and running, he met and befriended a lot of the ones that called him a hero before he could even process the title, some of them energetic, some hotheaded, and some unbothered, they reminded him that even if there was despair or tragedy, the world he knew and loved was still there.

At least it was there to him.

Getting to know all the world meant getting almost as much deception and anger as happiness, every new place meant new sceneries, new ways, and new people, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Even if it meant taking all the damage himself, getting to know everything personally was better than blindly trusting anything he was told, he knew it was worth it; he confirmed it when he went through one of the worst parts to find the absolute best one.

The place wasn’t even bad looking, the nature growing harmoniously beside the artificial work, it gave a peaceful kind of vibe, the people seemed kind and respectful, kids playing and chasing each other while adults looked out for them from afar, even welcoming him with open arms not caring if he was a stranger, “a united and caring community”, no sight of conflict or cruelty came to view, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them. Only kind words and even warm chilli dogs greeted him. He thought this was the kind of place he would fight for.

That thought lasted less than an hour.

It really doesn’t take much longer than 10 minutes to completely change your perspective of a so called perfect community when after thirty minutes of an apparent peaceful environment you notice the sick looking child they suddenly chase down the woods so he doesn’t “steal their food and gives them bad fortune”. Sonic gives them a full minute of doubt, doubt to himself as what he’s hearing and seeing, because that can’t be right, because it must be a mistake. What reason could there be for a kid to “give bad luck”? Why would a kid need to “steal” food? And why would he be called a “curse”?

Some villager takes a long four minutes to explain the reason for all that, falling down to “that mutant was born with two tails”.

Sonic spends the next five minutes looking for the kid, and restraining himself from committing several crimes.

He had to focus, ending a full village’s whole career can wait, what cannot wait is the fox kit that just ran away from a group of kids leaving a trail of blood behind him. Even in the thick forest tundra it’s easy to see the big droplets of blood on the tree branches, the ground, and the tiny bush that kept trembling.

That’s where he found him.

A fox kit, didn’t looked any older than two, but by what he heard he could even be four. He looked way too tiny to be around four.

Big baby blue eyes greet him, a glassy sight, sorrow, confusion and sadness behind them.

The moment the fox noticed the speedster he tried to run, but the bush was too thick around him, and his back was facing a big tree log, he was trapped, the kid flinched every time he moved towards him, whined whenever Sonic rose to stand, and even started silently tearing up while curling around his tiny bruised body when he tried to reach for him. This kid thought Sonic wanted to hurt him.

How much does a kid has to suffer for his first reaction to some one approaching him being to cry, tremble and try to protect themselves?

Sonic can’t decide what enrages him more, the matted brown fur that surely must mean a long time without proper care for it, the bruised skinny body that trembled every few seconds as if it couldn’t stand by itself, the obviously recent bleeding nose that made the fox kit whimper every time he breathed, or the so clear loud sound of an empty stomach.

This was the result of long period of abuse and neglect, and by the way the kid hugged his twin tails while crying, Sonic would even call it torture.

Sonic couldn’t help him without getting close to him, but the kit wouldn’t let him near him without flinching. Putting the kid through more distress was not an option, but leaving him alone wasn’t one either, and the kid needed help, so he stayed. Sitting beside the trembling bush, taking watch in case some of those hollow hearted villagers came back while thinking of a way of helping the kid.

This is not the kind of help Sonic is used to offer, but he cannot just leave the kit alone. Even if he didn’t know anything about taking care of younger kids, even if his first aid kit was almost empty in his plane far away from him, even if the fox cried at the very sight of him, Sonic won’t leave him alone.

He doesn’t remember feeling like this before. Frustrating, he remembers some adults calling it, a feeling of helplessness, anger, and even sadness that consumes one self through the impossibility of effective action, in his case, the impossibility of helping.

And so he found himself, frustrated, sitting on the forest ground while rubbing his eyes with his hand, who knew, frustration is stressful; he kept at that for a few long minutes, until he felt a slight touch in his back. Finding those big blue eyes when he turned his head, a tiny gloveless paw patting him gently, careful with his quills but yet touching them, trying to comfort him.

This kid could barely stand, was obviously scared, at the verge of tears, and hurting from the beating the other kids gave him; and he was trying to make Sonic feel better.

It was clear now, they didn’t seemed to have any hate in them because they put all the cruelty and hatred in a kid, an innocent, tiny, and so kind hearted kid. The same village that greeted Sonic with kind words and offered him warm food was willing to let a literal toddler starve, if he wasn’t killed by the village’s youngest inhabitants first. All over something that wasn’t even bad, it wasn’t even his fault.

That won’t do.

Looking less distressed than before but still trembling wasn’t an ideal state to approach the twin tailed kit, but again, the kid needed help, the most urgent now being probably first aid, but Sonic sadly knew that the thing that would calm down the kid more would be something to eat.

Sonic offered him a smile, an attempt to soothe him, standing as slowly as he could not to scare the kid, and running as fast as his legs allowed him to return with four chili dogs was the game plan, managing to startle the kid a little bit with his rushed return, with the most difficult part of the plan being convincing the kid that the food was for him, that he could eat, that it wouldn’t hurt him, that Sonic wouldn’t hurt him.

Words might be useful to communicate that, but they just might, this kid was obviously casted away from society, who knew since when, he might not even understand him, well, if he used words that is, for now he hopes his smile would do (that and him eating a chili dog himself so the kit would know it’s safe).

It took a while, but it seemed like the fox’s empty stomach finally convinced him to eat, his hands trembling as he grabbed the supper, eyes getting a different kind of teary as he took his first bite, his twin tails wagging as he devoured his second chili dog.

Sonic wasn’t much of a baby person, sure they were cute and all he didn’t saw the big deal, all babies were the same. But seeing this little kid, a hurt toddler, starting to smile and wet his eyes over something as simple as warm food.. while a part of him was burning with rage, another part of him couldn’t help but think that he wanted to see this kid truly smile.

He wonders how could anyone see this kid with anything but love.

So he stayed around him, always with a smile, but even bandages, chili dogs, and big smiles couldn’t help much with the kids perspective of the word, much less the perception of himself.

The only world the fox knew before Sonic was a merciless one, rejection, hate and cruelty being its main traits, with bad people who would hunt him down, hit him and hurt him because he was the bad one, just for existing in the same time and place as all of them, but not being the same as them. He believed he really was the bad one for some time.

Sonic wouldn’t allow that for any longer, so he took the best part of the world with him and never planned to return it.

His life wasn’t the ideal deal for a toddler, he couldn’t give him a traditional family structure, a roof over his head, or a warm bed, but he also didn’t trusted anyone else to take care of him, he didn’t trusted the world to take care of him. So he would take the job himself, this kid wouldn’t go a day without warm food, he would never lack shelter, and as long as Sonic was around, he would always protect him.

But Sonic still was a hero.

Sonic fought and ran, ran and fought, and when the running and fighting from him alone seemed like not enough, the kit didn’t even doubted risking his own life to help him.

After a life of suffering, as little and scared as he was, at barely four years old, he still wanted to protect the world that wronged him.

The world doesn’t deserve this kid.

But it was the world itself that gave Sonic the title of protector, guardian, and hero; he knows there are things worth fighting for, far more than the things that wouldn’t deserve any kind of protection.

He won’t deny the title, ever.

Because even if some day everything around him comes down, everyone gets mad and bad, and his own hope is questioned, he’ll still have a reason to fight.

After all, this kid is his world.

[moodyvoid]

please i need an alternate life path of dabi 😭😭

Honestly, it would be pretty bad :(

He sees his life as the hero his father wanted him to be. If he wasn’t a “failure”.

Dabi has conflicting feelings about it at first. Seeing himself as a hero left him a little in awe, but it’s also painful as fuck to see.

But then he sees his life behind the scenes. Natsuo and Shoto were never born. Fuyumi grew up extremely lonely since Touya was always training with Enji. Worst of all, Touya is acting just like Enji and going down an abusive/neglectful path with his own future family.

Dabi’s like “You know what?… I’m good.”

(I just don’t see him having any good outcomes being around Enji. Enji, himself, would have to be a completely different person).

ANOTHER PATH:

Rei leaves and takes the kids.

Touya still practices with his quirk, despite it burning him. No longer because he wants to be seen by his dad, but because he genuinely wants to be a hero on his own. (Maybe to spite him a little lol)

Rei is able to get him the proper physical/mental treatment that he needs, and works with top notch doctors/scientists to figure out ways for him to use his quirk without burning himself.

As technology advances, Touya eventually gets the help/equipment he needs to more safely use his quirk (not completely unscathed, but FAR better than it was). He joins the hero course and becomes a pro hero on his own.

(Unfortunately, while a nice outcome, this results in him unable to awaken his ice ability. So he’s always going to have some trouble with his quirk.)

Dabi is watching all of this and he’s almost emotionally destroyed until the next thing he sees…

Touya goes to visit Rei and she’s got company already. He sees Mr. Compress standing in Rei’s kitchen. Yeah that’s right I turned this into Compress x Rei gotcha you’ll never know when I’ll strike with StepDad!Compress

Dabi is like “Okay, I’m done seeing this shit.” and then as he walks away, he stops by Mr. Compress and is like “Stay away from my Mom.”

Mr. Compress is like “??????”

[quirkwizard]

New Leaf

So I recently realized I've never talked about a lot of the League as heroes. Now I really wanted to talk about it. Though for now, it will be in a short list of general summary of them. And if any of you want me to go more in depth with how I think the some of these villains would be as heroes, like what I did with Twice and Dabi, you're more then welcome to ask.

Magne-The Pole Hero, Flux: Flux was never the most notable hero in any regards, yet was always there whenever needed, constantly changing the flow of a fight with powerful magnetic pushes and pulls.

Moonfish-The Devouring Hero, Sawtooth: A bizarre, silent hero that never fails to scared anyone that sees him. Both villain and civilian alike. In spite of this bizarre persona, he remains one of the most prominent heroes in the field of rescue work.

Giran-The Forgetful Hero, Mindful: Mindful was an underground hero if there ever was one. He'd go deep undercover, finding any and all connections between members of the underworld. And if anything went wrong, he'd always had his Quirk to bail him out.

Mustard-The Small Box Hero, Gaseous: A controversial figure thanks to his dangerous ability, Gaseous' was rarely deployed to do any major hero work. Yet when he was used, it was to great effect, able to take out whole gangs of villains without even a single punch thrown.

Muscular-The Shredded Hero, Strongman: A hero who just wants to fight. Something he did with great proficney and greater brutality. He was known to be just as tough on his sidekicks, pushing them harder and harder until they became the pinnacle of the heroes they were meant to be.

Kurogiri-The Overcast Hero, Dark Cloud: A dark and mysterious figure of a man. Nobody knew who he was or where he came from. Only that he served as mission control for heroes everywhere, making sure that the exact hero was right where they needed to be to help the most people.

Mr. Compress-The Spectacular Hero, Marbolous: A hero that was more celebrity then anything, eating up all the attention with his big personality. Yet in spite of his big personality, there hid a figure far more clever then anyone would expect, constantly outsmarting any villain that interrupted him.

Spinner-The Climbing Hero, Scaler: A generally unremarkable hero, Scaler seemed regulated to minor issues beneath most heroes. However, his endearing drive for heroics, his underdog status, and overall relatability has made him a fan favorite figure among hero diehard nerds and certain mutants.

Toga-The Imitation Hero, Youngblood: A seemingly average girl and figure you'd never recognize on the street. Youngblood was the go to girl for any and all infiltration work. Work she did with great tack and proficiency. Yet she'd never be far from a rescue situation, saving someone by transfusing their own blood.

Dabi-The Ignited Hero, Prodigy: In spite of his early issues in life, Toya became spitting image of his father. A bright, powerful flame that refused to give in and die no matter what villain came his way. Hands down the biggest heartthrob within the hero world, only rivaled by Hawks.

Double-The Friendly Hero, Twofold: On the surface, Twofold was an goofy, but harmless guy, always ready to make someone happy. Underneath was one of the most valuable assests to the heroes' side, promising that a horde of heroes would be around to save you no matter what.

Tomura-The Dust Hero, Breakthrough: A boy born from a dark past. A lost cause that was saved by a hero. Now, he lives out his childhood dreams to be a hero. He would right straight into the most dangerous of accidents and rescue situations, desperate to help and to destroy any debris in his path.

[deswhomst]

Canon Regulus was not this evil person you all make him out to be and I am tired of the Regulus-hate

First of all, Regulus Black is not a character we have an in-depth explanation of but he isn’t completely unknown to us, either. However, a lot of his canon self and motivations are up for interpretation and you are free to your own assumptions as long as you remember that at the end of the day, they are just your assumptions and not concrete facts and someone else is well within their right to have a different idea. 

What we know about him is that he was the youngest Black, and after Sirius was disowned, he became the heir. Unlike Sirius, Regulus was obedient and he believed in the pure blood ideologies. He wanted to join Voldemort and talked about it for years. Seeing as he joined the Death Eaters at 16, it would mean he was extremely young when he formed that ambition. 

From Deathly Hallows, Kreacher’s Tale —

"Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns... and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve ...”

Over here, Kreacher mentions Regulus’ will to join Voldemort but nowhere does it say that Regulus was going on about wanting to murder innocent people—his intention, from what we are told, was to live out of hiding and rule over the muggles and muggle-borns, not execute them. And it’s not an insanely crazy idea because if you’re forced to hide who you are, and if you’re fed the fact that muggles drove you into hiding, then you’re probably going to want to get back on top. 

And now this quote from Sirius in Order of the Phoenix states that many people (including his parents) supported Voldemort’s rule before he showed his true colors: 

'Were - were your parents Death Eaters as well?'

'No, no, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having pure-bloods in charge. They weren't alone, either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colours, who thought he had the right idea about things... they got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.'

It’s just to say, if grown ass adults were naive enough to get swept away with Voldemort’s influence, a boy years younger than 16 could not have known better. Not to mention Regulus was quite literally described as an idiot by Sirius himself. 

'Because I hated the whole lot of them: my parents, with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them... that's him.'

So now my main point is actually yet to be said. For now, I have given evidence from the books that support my interpretation of Regulus and your interpretation may wary but you cannot sit there and tell me I’m wrong for the way I see it. Regulus’ death is what’s the most defining part of his character, and the most annoying take yall haters have is that he simply died because Voldemort hurt his “property”. That’s such a shallow take I’m sorry it says more about you than me when you bring up that argument. 

This is how Regulus was described after he find out about the Horcrux. Strange, worried, disturbed, unlike himself. Not angry or spiteful. Not evil or vengeful. 

"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then ... it was a little while later ... Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell ... and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord..."

And proof that he didn’t view Kreacher as his property but rather as a friend: 

"And he made you drink the poison?" said Harry, disgusted.

But Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione's hands leapt to her mouth: She seemed to have understood something.

"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets ..."

Kreacher's sobs came in great rasps now; Harry had to concentrate hard to understand him. "And he order-Kreacher to leave without him. And he told Kreacher—to go home—and never to tell my Mistress-what he had done— but to destroy —the first locket. And he drank —all the potion-and Kreacher swapped the lockets— and watched ... as Master Regulus ... was dragged beneath the water ... and... "

Like, he could have made Kreacher drink it—Harry certainly assumed that he had, but he didn’t. He knew he was going to die, and Kreacher told him about the potion, so he willingly chose to hurt himself more before dying a horribly painful death. 

And now, THIS is Harry and Hermione’s interpretation—that Regulus did change his mind. It’s from the canon books and it wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t true, since the haters care so much about canon. This is literally how Regulus’ sacrifice was described, by Hermione.

"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you're going to say," she went on as Harry began to protest, "that Regulus changed his mind ... but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."

This is literally how it’s described in the books. He was trying to protect them all even if no one ever knew what he did. Even if the world had an awful image of him and forgot all about him. 

He was 18 years old when he died. Fresh out of school. And, listen—he was plenty privileged. On paper, he had everything. Money, talent, looks, status, plus Voldemort was very much in power and he was a DE so he was on the stronger side of the war as well. He chose to give that all up and sacrifice his entire life, and that doesn’t just happen for no reason. He couldn’t have left the Death Eaters anyways. We are told more than once that you cannot leave the DEs, it’s a death sentence, and Regulus could not continue being one so he literally left the only way he could—by dying.

'Was he killed by an Auror?' Harry asked tentatively.

'Oh, no,' said Sirius. 'No, he was murdered by Voldemort. Or on Voldemort's orders, more likely; I doubt Regulus was ever important enough to be killed by Voldemort in person. From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out. Well, you don't just hand in your resignation to Voldemort. It's a lifetime of service or death.'

See, now if you say that he didn’t change his mind, that’s fine—there’s no concrete evidence that he did but ALSO, there is no concrete evidence that he didn’t. There are multiple ways to perceive a character we don’t have too much information on but my interpretation doesn’t violate canon so you cannot tell me that Regulus Black was evil or bad. He was morally grey at worst in my opinion and I have all the supporting text in the post. 

I read the books when I was 14 (in 2017), and I was not in any fandom space. I don’t know what things were like back then but I loved Regulus as a character from the moment I read his backstory. I acknowledge that he was a Death Eater and he willingly joined them but I also see the fact that he was a child who was surrounded by people who pushed him in that direction. Sirius being loud and rebellious probably made Regulus more quiet and obedient just to oppose him, or maybe seeing his parents’ reaction.

Also, Sirius had a lot of good influence to help his already rebellious personality but Regulus had no outside experience past the Slytherin dungeons and the pureblood society. Siblings often react differently to their parents in general, also the heir and the spare thing probably comes into work here as well but that’s a conversation for another time. Just like I do not blame Sirius for doing what he needed to, I do not blame Regulus either.

(I also strongly believe that Regulus was suicidal but that’s also a conversation for another time.)

Ultimately, I do not see Regulus as a hero or a villain but as a tragedy. It shows how people on both sides of war suffer and no one is safe or a winner in those situations. Reducing his character to “an evil Death Eater” is so weird to me, when you could explore the complexity of it all. Anyways, canon Regulus is my favorite character and I actually prefer him over fanon Regulus so I don’t need anyone to tell me I should read the books or liking him makes me evil or awful.

While we’re at it, I think it’s so unfair to lump him into the same category as Peter, Barty, Bellatrix, or Petunia, etc.. like WDYM how can I like Regulus and not Petunia? One was a 18 year old who killed himself and the other abused her dead sister’s son?? Those people are evil and Regulus is morally grey. There is a difference, and I am allowed to love him while hating others.

(All the canon quotes are from Deathly Hallows, Kreacher’s Tale or Order of the Phoenix, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black)

[startheskelaton]

Just a thought: one spark au but all there are gods, goddesses, deities, heroes and various monsters like in ancient Greek mythology

You… have no IDEA… how obsessed with Mythology I am. AAAAUUYGGHHHHHG!!!! ITS SO HARD TO PUT TOGETHER WHAT CHARACTER WOULD BE WHAT GOD BECAUSE ALL OF THEM HAVE SO MUCH SYMBOLOGY AND LORE!! AAAAHUUHYHGGHHHHH!!!

Like for example!!! Megatron and Elita would be perfect as Ares and Athena. Both are two sides of the same war. The brutal violence and senseless killings of war… vs the cold blooded strategy and noble honor of it. You may say “Wouldn’t Optimus prime be Athena since he’s Megatron’s other half…”…. No… he’d be Hestia, god of home, hearth and family, being he’s the glue that keeps the Autobots good.

However dynamics wise, Megatron and Sparkplug would be perfect as Demeter and Persephone. Forget everything you’ve learned from feminist retelling of Persephone, Demeter was not in the wrong for crashing out after her daughter was stolen behind her back okay? Have you seen most of the gods? She had a reason to be overprotective!! However at the same time, it’s been theorized that Persephone is a MUCH older goddess then we believe, existing as a concept before even Hades!! This would be perfect to depict Sparkplug’s strong ass connections to the old primes.

However I do have a really good idea for who some characters could be!!

Nightflyer is a perfect Dionysus. Not only is Dionysus a very old god (to the point he’s just always there), a perfect connection to how Nightflyer was supposed to be a predicon. His whole deal is that he dies and is reborn, the grapes he is associated with rot and becomes the wine that’s his trademark (also perfectly showing how Nightflyer dies and is reborn as a predicon). Both also live to well… live, exist as they are and take part in the joys of raw nature and life.

Soundblaster is a perfect Hephaestus. Both born out of spite and were supposed to be beautiful and perfect. And they were both scored for being ugly, and constantly being overshadowed by the beauty of another , Hephaestus with Ares and Soundblaster with Nightflyer. He is also desperately trying to gain the affection of his arranged wife who’s much more interested in his “brother”. However Sparkplug actually really dose like both Nightflyer and Soundblaster

I really have to work on my webtoon so I’ll cut it off here. I’m just in love with mythology of all kinds (although Greek mythology was the first one I learned about) so I jumped on this question. I’ll probably do more to be honest because I am a yapper . Might do some connections with other mythology’s

[donamori]

Please indulge me to speak at length about Don Quixote (post Warp Express Intervello)

Unfortunately, this will be riddled with spoilers, however, I'm not necessarily making this post to make any real predictions. I'm mostly just collecting my thoughts, crafting some theories, and talking at length about my thoughts on the upcoming canto, their possible themes, and to gush and wail about my most favoritest sinner ever. If you've finished Murder on the Warp Train then feel free to continue

Alright, end of the most recent Intervello, it was revealed (much to my surprise at least) that Don Quixote, our pride and joy and ever most excellent knight-errant, is in fact a Bloodfiend. A bloodfiend who apparently has their true form suppressed by Rocinante, the shoes Don wears that are named after the steed Don Quixote rides upon in the book.

This new reveal has millions of possibilities forming in my head for the upcoming Canto and here's the gist of what I've kind of formed and gathered from what we know so far in the world of Limbus and Project Moon as a whole, what I personally know about Miguel De Cervantes and his works, and the general thematic ties that are now unfurling within my noggin that I'm trying to spool together in this nice little indulgent post.

Let's start with Miguel De Cervantes:

For those who may not know, Cervantes is the author of Don Quixote, born in 1547, died in 1616. A few important tidbits that I think will be important in the upcoming Canto-

Something that has been known for awhile is that Don's battle sprite does not list her name as Don Quixote but as Miguel. For awhile now I had been wondering if within Don Quixote's Canto we are going to receive some sort of reveal that Don Quixote is actually Miguel De Cervantes. Originally the basis of this theory I had was a quote from Cervantes about how "[he] would not exist without Don Quixote." (Something that was expanded upon in a lecture about Cervantes and Don Quixote that I found on youtube). In fact a large portion of that lecture, which I will link here, contributed to this idea I had built up in my head about the relationship between Miguel and Don.

What this essentially culminates to in my mind is that the Bloodfiend will reveal that they are Miguel, but for some reason or another, they "became" Don Quixote. So, in many loose adaptions of Don Quixote, this connection is typically made. In my personal favorite adaption, The Man of La Mancha, a musical about the book, they present the story of Don Quixote as a play for prisoners after Miguel Cervantes himself is arrested. And who is the man that plays Don? None other than Cervantes himself!

(you should really give it a watch, it's a lovely musical)

Now, within the book of Don Quixote itself, our titular hero sadly perishes at the end. He loses to the Knight of the Mirror (who is actually the Bachelor Sanson Carrasco, a man hired by Don's family to bring him home) and returns home. He then dies in his bed after renouncing the name of Don Quixote and all of his adventures. Saying with much seriousness that he is not Don Quixote, but Alonso Quijana. He leaves money to Sancho and his estate to his niece and then soon passes (after a heartfelt appeal from Sancho to return to adventuring together once more.)

After his death, the book ends with the author who is detailing Don Quixote's history writing this final paragraph-

"For me alone was Don Quixote born, and I for him; it was his to act, mine to write; we two together make but one, notwithstanding and in spite of that pretended Tordesillesque writer who has ventured or would venture with his great, coarse, ill-trimmed ostrich quill to write the achievements of my valiant knight... And I shall remain satisfied, and proud to have been the first who has ever enjoyed the fruit of his writings as fully as he could desire; for my desire has been no other than to deliver over to the detestation of mankind the false and foolish tales of the books of chivalry, which, thanks to that of my true Don Quixote, are even now tottering, and doubtless doomed to fall for ever. Farewell.”

I've paraphrased it a bit, but you get the gist. While the author detailing Don Quixote's history is a fictional author made up by Cervantes, I believe it is a cheeky way of Cervantes to insert himself in the story and express his true feelings here.

Now, with Cervantes and Donqui being one and the same I believe the strong thematic thread tying this all together is one of dreams. It's now known to us this whole time that Don Quixote is in fact, both dream and dreamer. The monster that Don Quixote is sleeps while they allow for their true self to live, ever dreaming. But now that Dream is Ending.

I think we're going to see the 'death' of Don Quixote and some sort of joining of Miguel and Don. I think Miguel wants to keep dreaming. They are a bloodfiend, a horrible monster, one of the more powerful beings that are mentioned in Project Moon's games. But i think that Miguel doesn't want that. I think that Miguel wants to be cured. Something that has never really been done for a bloodfiend, an impossible dream, perhaps?

I think in Don's Canto we're going to see what we see within the book. Miguel/Don's family trying to get him to come back, to stop him, to get him to give up on this silly dream of Knight-Errantry. And I believe Dante will finally be able to help Miguel take the first steps towards realizing this impossible dream.

Some small little thoughts that I've had that i think push this a bit further.

Don Quixote was written by Miguel when he was 50 while he was in prison.

I've been wondering now whether this cell we see Donqui in within her base ego was actually some sort of representation of this. Don Quixote was born while Miguel was locked away. This looming shadow of Rocinante keeping the Sangre De Sancho locked away within this small starry-eyed girl <3

Nothing that I really have any like, evidence for, but based on vibes I think representing the specific sort of Spaniard from this time period as some sort of high class vampire is excellent and really fits thematically as well.

Cervantes has a bunch of quotes about the nature of oneself and death (bloodfiends are undead). Some that I think are quite fitting are :

“A Man Without Honor is Worse than Dead.”

“Take my advice and live for a long, long time. Because the maddest thing a man can do in this life is to let himself die.”

“I know who I am and who I may be, if I choose.”

“When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be!”

and finally, to conclude this,

“All I know is that while I’m asleep, I’m never afraid, and I have no hopes, no struggles, no glories — and bless the man who invented sleep, a cloak over all human thought, food that drives away hunger, water that banishes thirst, fire that heats up cold, chill that moderates passion, and, finally, universal currency with which all things can be bought, weight and balance that brings the shepherd and the king, the fool and the wise, to the same level. There’s only one bad thing about sleep, as far as I’ve ever heard, and that is that it resembles death, since there’s very little difference between a sleeping man and a corpse.”

If you read this whole thing, thank you for indulging me. I greatly appreciate it.

[brucewaynehater101]

Brainrotting again

Ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID" by OneoftheUnknown on ao3 ???

*cracks knuckles*

Lets take this idea and run away with it

Unreliable Narration, I choose you!

. · • ★ • · .

Tim—simply put—loves too much

Loves his parents too much to expose their neglect

Too much to do something as scandalous as get caught photographing Batman and Robin

Tim loves the Batman and Robins he's dreamed up too much to not follow him at night, not photograph them, not become Batman's Leash after Jason's passing so as to preserve the hope they symbolize, preserve the childhood hero he's loved for so long

Tim loves his parents too much to be caught being affiliated with Batman, even to the Dark Knight

Timothy Drake never becomes Robin after all . . .

Alvin does!

Alvin works desperately to drag Batman out of the pit of despair he is trapped within and spreading, works to become the most efficent co-worker, and works to build the paper trail that disproves any possibility of fraud

Wigs, contacts, makeup, civilian wear, hobby and even personality that differ dramatically from Drake and Draper are the cherries on top

. · • ★ • · .

Drake is perfect for his family name, and Draper is the idealized Robin who's light preserves the Night and Justice that is Batman

Yes, it is a pain concocting a personality which is the perfect Robin yet detestable enough to go unmourned, such a personality born of an upbringing that would stand up to scrutiny is such an impossible task for anybody not a Drake

Tim is confident he's done it. Once Alvin's no longer entrusted with the burden of Batman's Robin Leash, a Young Justice member, and a hero all around, nobody will gave a damn if he vanishes

[Jason's attack on Titan Towers, Damian's murder attempts, the constant calling of Replacement, his Sweet Sixteen, Dick taking away Robin and ruining his reputation in the hero community, nobody believing that Bruce is alive

Bart and Kon's deaths, the cloning he attempted in his G R I E F which will only serve to soil Draper's name further once it leaks at the press of a button]

All of that, all of that were utterly perfect moments, perfect to lash out in ways that would make Alvin detested more and more

The clock was ticking.

He is a leach of a cast over a long healed limb

. · • ★ • · .

Alvin hates Damian and Jason and Dick to the ends of the Earth. The first two tried to kill him, the third took away the Robin he wrongly thought belonged to him and he stole Red Robin just to be petty

He left a note saying he's only proving them wrong in Bruce being dead just to spite them

Alfred is the only person he is respectful at all too

He doesn't get paid enough

Alvin tried to ignore that giggling fighting to be made at the thought of Batman's accomplice having to suffer through all this

This feeling that's been there since his sixteenth

. · • ★ • · .

Hating the Bats? That's Alvin's job. Timothy knows it's irrational

Jason dug himself out of his grave and was trained in the very same cult as Damian. Batman picked his murderer over Jason

They're traumatized in ways he can't even summarize. The family's they should trust have done horrible jobs at helping the heal, going as far as to exacerbate their issues

It's not just wrong, but inhumane to wish they were Perfect Victims

Alvin is only half right whenever he demands—yuck! have some manners—apologies

. · • ★ • · .

Awful as it sounds, BruceQuest couldn't have come at a more perfect time, a hero on his high horse, insisting against his betters on running away to prove them wrong, a rebellious stint below his age

So what if he died with the League of Assassins after proving Bruce alive and bringing him back?

Everything is right with the Bats again

. · • ★ • · .

Tim hates the Bats more than anything

He knows it's irrational. Declaring in his heart that he hates is for older adults. He can't help it

When Batman disappeared and his family was scrambling to pick up the pieces, he set eyes upon Bruce's side

Who would take up the CEO mantle? Who could be trusted with the family name that swayed Gotham's civilians and Dark Knights?

In the end, with Alvin declared a madman, they could only rely on Timothy Drake, set to inherit Drake Industries following his parent's death and Uncle's adoption of him

Not that the family would ever know it. Not that they needed to know it

It became easier wrangling being a vigilante and CEO, as well as two identities when one of them was dead

Not that he stopped being a vigilante. They're just never gonna show up on the field

But try as he might, he couldn't put the Batfamily quite back together as Alvin wanted

Bruce won't let him step down from being a CEO

. · • ★ • · .

Brucie insisted on a dinner between family and CEO

It makes sense. None as well. Nothing is suspicious of Tim Drake minus his youth

"You have another brother? Where is he?" He hadn't heard of another adoption yet

"He died asshole." Draper? Why would they still speak of him like one of their own?

But then again, he died

He wasn't Jason Todd dead, but rather a "Don't Speak Ill of the Dead" dead

. · • ★ • · .

It's kind of funny how Brucie—no, Batman—seemed to not tell the family how Tim requested to resign multiple times.

But the family was traumatized by his own hand. They needed something to stand against, to become a cohesive family unit. Bonds forged from pressure are a powerful, powerful thing

He can testify I'm so sorry Kon and Bart and Cassie and—

. · • ★ • · .

If Tim were a civilian through and through, he'd say it's fucked how Batman still employs manipulation to make sure family progress stays up

Then again, he has to find some kind of way

It's Batman

. · • ★ • · .

Tim miscalculated

Tim miscalculated sooo, so fucking much

. · • ★ • · .

Nothing but good things to say about the departed Alvin in interviews

A shrine—a shrine!!—in memory of Alvin

Talks and discussing he gathers on his computers regarding the family includes talks about how horribly they mistreated Alvin comparing him to Damian and Jason?!

Alvin had a working and antagonistic relationship with the heros. Timothy Drake was purely professional. Tim Drake's relationships are exclusively parasocial and delusional

And he's trapped the Bats in parasocial relationships with a boy not even real

. · • ★ • · .

Tim wants to be sick

He calls in sick

'Suck it Batman'

. · • ★ • · .

Only after dying is Alvin getting the love Timothy Drake is above wanting for

It doesn't make any sense

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake wants to step down from Wayne Enterprises all together, to cut all contact—being a CEO has been such a strain, with Bruce refusing my nephew's several requests to step down—and have his Fake Uncle move them away from Gotham for both of their own mental health

Somewhere he won't fear the Bat's finding him

Bruce refusing his requests are the perfect excuses to go as far as to cut contact with the world—

Tim Drake knows his heart belongs to Gotham

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake hates the Waynes and Batfamily to the ends of the earth

There are exceptions. Steph and Barbara, Cass and Duke, and—

. · • ★ • · .

Jack and Janet love archeology too much

Tim, his own family

Dead or Alive

Thus is the way of Drake

Have I ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID"? Perhaps.

In all jest, I am so so glad you liked it. To see something inspired off something I wrote is so heartwarming.

Ngl, I like that your version bashes on Bruce a bit more than mine did.

I like to think that Tim, in these AUs, would be pissed about a shrine to Alvin. Part of him would be so angry that they built a shrine to a person they didn't even know. They didn't know Alvin was just a fake identity. They didn't care enough to find out. Yet, they want to make a physical demonstration of their guilt and call it a mourner's monument?

Two more points I like about your AU are the ways Tim separates himself from "Alvin" and how he built Alvin's personality specifically to be a slightly disliked coworker. It's distressing and disheartening (in the best ways) to think of a younger Tim desperately trying not to hate the Bats for what they did to Alvin. It wasn't him, it wasn't Tim, so it shouldn't matter, right? He can still love them?

An older Tim knows better.