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baeshijima · 15 days

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mmm thoughts of private executioner!blade, who is high priestess!kafka's bodyguard. well, more like her guard dog, as many fearfully seem to think.

he is aloof and gruff and rough around the edges, his name capturing it perfectly. when in the eyes of the public he either keeps to himself or stands ready by kafka's side, but when out he lurks in the shadows ready and waiting to carry out her death orders.

you, yourself, haven't had very many pleasant encounters with him... if you can even call them that. that being said, you haven't had many pleasant encounters with anyone. notorious for your... less than pleasant disposition, for a lack of better words, you have more people who'd rather see you run through than those you can call a friend.

in a dog-eat-dog world, you had no choice but to protect yourself. that, however, ultimately became your demise.

"oh? so you're the one sent to kill me. can't say i'm all that surprised."

standing before you is the feared executioner. his sword is tucked inside the sheath attached to his hip, that ever-present dark swirl of an aura stifling the air. he doesn't say anything, instead opting to silently stare down at your slumped and worn-out form. you find that his gaze doesn't bother you; rather, it's oddly comforting knowing someone will see you in your last moments.

"i've never asked you for a favour before, so this will be my first and last request for you." in all honesty, you're not sure where this chattiness stems from. considering you're currently in a holding cell under the crime of attempted murder towards kafka (a poisoned wine you were most definitely framed for, though you can't say you were surprised) and are awaiting for your turn to be under the guillotine for your public execution, you probably should be a little desperate towards the private executioner in front of you.

and yet, your mind is nothing if not peaceful.

with a huff, you relay your request, "can you make sure it's quick? painless, preferably, but i'd rather you just get it over and done with."

silence blankets the cold chambers. moisture accumulated along the cobble ceiling drip in a steady rhythm, like a clock ticking away the seconds. it's unnerving, almost, how there is not a single sound other than your impending countdown.

"why?" comes his low mutter, effectively causing a ripple within the stagnant air. you almost think you misheard him, but his following words cease the thought, "why won't you ask me for help?"

had it not been for the abrupt shuffle and clanging against the metal bars, you would have never looked up to see him in your last moments.

his scarred hands gripping the metal until his knuckles turn a ghastly white and blood dripping from his palms is what greets your sight. as your gaze slowly trails up, you almost let loose a laugh of disbelief; who would have thought blade, the infamous guard dog of the high priestess, could make such a desperate expression? one looking as though his whole world crumbled before him, in which he can do nothing but sit and watch.

(you will never know of the anger and desperation which coursed through his veins the moment he heard of your predicament. had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have cared. but you're not anyone else; you're you — unapologetically, wholeheartedly. it didn't take him long to hunt down those behind it, cutting them down without thought and putting an end to their miserable lives. he rushed as soon as he could when kafka gave him the order, no thoughts other than you, you, you, occupying his mind.

you will never know of the anguish which overcame him when he found you in such a state, your once healthy complexion and defiant gaze reduced to nothing but a tiredness which had always sat quietly behind your disposition. he's almost positive the muscle which unwillingly keeps him alive tore at the seems from your request, the acceptance in which you displayed causing his mind to go astray. even as he damn-near begs you to rely on him for help — to run away with him to some place no one knows of you and start anew there — you merely smile, resigned and peaceful.

you will never know of how much blade is willing to put on the line for you, for you never made it to see the complete and utter carnage he wrecked in your name.)

#what was initially a teehee shower thought became an ueue scenario #this was going somewhere and and then it got longer and longer and then took a severely angsty turn wtf #originally was going to keep this on the blog but then i cried at the end and decided it had to be let free <//3 #im sorry blade i love u i really do but that just means i need to put u through the emotional wringer haha... ha... a....#oh and also blade is kafkas bodyguard bc she promised to help find a way to cure him of his curse #(<- the mara/immortality equivalent wow we love unneeded lore !)#and yeah. this is me saying i have too many ideas and aus and idk what to do with myself so im blurting them out here #this is yet another cry for help 🥹#sophie talks : concepts <3 #blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 6 months

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had a human au thought of Barnaby and Wally. idk doing their taxes or going through bills together since they share a house & Barnaby going "hey we could get married for tax benefits and health insurance. wait no what if i want to marry Howdy someday? it's illegal to be married to two people." Wally goes "we could get divorced" and Barnaby gets legitimately sad like:

#wally: uhhhhhh. um. i think i left the oven running #barnaby: YOU DONT BAKE- GET BACK HERE AND ANSWER THE QUESTION #in human au barnaby's ideal world he can marry both his platonic life-partner And the love of his life #but the american government says No smh #my heart goes out to polyams everywhere #fuckkkkk getting unwell about this aus barnaby and wally again everyone #like i have so many different little plot lines and mini aus for the au #like what if there was a covid arc?#in my mind lockdown happens while wally is Elsewhere #so he cant exactly get back home! and obviously no one is happy about that but wally is dealing well enough #but barnaby's like 🥺 my lil buddys out there all on his own and im alone here so im gonna call him every day #(also i like to think that howdy spends lockdown w/ barn or vice-versa but this aint about that)#wally: vibing #barnaby: a bit of a wreck #absolutely unprompted #wh modern human au #but then also Angsty Thoughts of yo when they all get old uhhh who dies first #and In My Mind! they both die within a few days of each other #maybe barnaby goes first and wally just. pines away. broken heart syndrome babey!#also having soft thoughts of them when they first became friends #barnaby taking him to the farm and introducing him to the animals <3 #wally trying to help out with morning chores after a sleepover <3 #ms. beagle absolutely adoring wally and always having his favorite snacks In Stock for whenever he comes by <3 #that one time barnaby broke somebody's jaw for going a little too far w/ insulting wally & almost got expelled <3 #mannn they're so! honestly goals #oh and later on when they have their own place wally having his own lil art studio #and barnaby continuing to be his go-to muse <3 #wally probably has so much fuckign art of barnaby lmao #OHHHHH AND THE CAR CRASH ARCCCCC DONT EVEN GET ME FUCKIGN STARTED #EMOTIONS CENTRAL THAT IS

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dynjir · 10 months

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Bitter reunions

#dynart #unknown person #unknownpsn #castle of nations #law of talos #rachel #karl #you lead a fairy tale existence~#but into every lifeee a little #rain must fall~#what can I say?#I like my ships to be sweet and angsty :]#these sketches are starting to not be sketches anymore #which is a little dangerous for my free time #so this might be my last one for a while haha #sorry I didn't draw much climbers :c #I only re-read law of talos recently so these two became my main focus

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pyjamacryptid · 6 months

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This was always going to happen.

[He’s] been dead since the beginning.

- The Oresteia

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sacersanguis · 2 years

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Tim: ....wait a goddamn minute you're telling me, they were not--- they were never together in the first place?

Bruce: Yes, Clark and I were never involved in such a relationship. How is that relevant to this---

Tim: Alright, whoever thought Clark and Bruce secretly eloped and then got divorced during Jason's-- *coughs* disAppearance, raise your hands!

*Bruce seeing the hands that have been raised*

Bruce: ... Alfred, why the fuck are you raising your hand-

#i believe superbat had a major fallout after Jason's death #so most of the batkids who became a part of the family after Jason's death probably see Bruce and Clark argue more than being 🥰#at each other #while having this undercurrent of angsty pining #that made the kids assume that they had a history with each other before #at the least #jason and dick raised their hands cos they're lil shits #and they also want them two to make up AND GET TOGETHER ALREADY #Alfred too but he hasn't crossed out the secretly eloped and got divorced possibility #cos Bruce once left him for training under cults and shits #you never know with kids like that what they're gonna pull next #dc #superbat #batfam #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #clark kent #batkids #robin #they have a bet going on and babs is probs gonna win it #kay and her bs rambles~

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prince-liest · 9 months

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more self-indulgent jgy abo headcanons

I read a fic so long ago that I no longer remember the fandom nor characters involved, but the thing about it that really stuck in my mind was that it was an abo-verse fic that used the concept that omegas have an ingrained biological need for physical (including platonic) affection, to the point where “touch-starvation” was a medical diagnosis

this is obviously extremely up my alley for ALL my blorbos, but consider jin guangyao in particular:

unlike the usual ‘omega pretending to be a beta’ trope, I think that once he is established at jinlintai, he would not really try to let people assume that he’s a beta. being an omega leads people not only into underestimating him, but also into offering him a certain degree of safety in providing a veil of stereotype-associated demureness, placidity, etc. it is more to his benefit for people to see him as a polite young man, perhaps even one who, yes, is a war hero - but people can’t quite imagine what kinds of things he must have done for that. surely nothing too bad.

but at the same time, this is the character who couldn't even serve tea to people as nie mingjue’s deputy without people making a show of wiping off their fingers after touching the cups. people know he is an omega, people judge him for being an omega on top of all the other things he is already judged for, but I suspect that most of the relevant and appropriate people in jinlintai avoid touching him unless absolutely necessary. in a world where casual contact is thoroughly commonplace just due to the socialities set up by their biology, jin guangyao has a personal space bubble of like 2-3 feet because he's the dirty son of a prostitute.

he walks through the halls, ostensibly the second young master of the tower, and feels like he is drowning in the physical manifestation of loneliness.

who does he have left? family? jin zixuan is not close to him, and frankly is likely an alpha raised by alphas to whom it would not even occur to that such needs need to be minded. jin guangshan certainly is aware, but is using it as leverage, allowing and denying contact as he see fits to manipulate jin guangyao the same way he does with his fatherly affection. there are his sworn brothers, but his relationship with nie mingjue is fraught: certainly da-ge wouldn’t withhold contact as punishment or leverage, but that doesn’t mean he wants to touch jin guangyao anymore, nor does he really understand how the necessity of it feels when he grew up with nie huaisang, an omega who has never been shy about taking whatever affection he wants. and er-ge... he just isn’t around enough.

lan xichen is still the best option, and by the time they have the opportunities to see each other, jin guangyao is pressing nails into his palms to stop from just plastering himself up against lan xichen’s side, which surely would be humiliating for both of them. but still, he’s so aware of it any time they’re in the same room, meting out as many small touches as he can get away with without embarrassing himself. lan xichen slips his fingers over jin guangyao’s wrists as he pulls him up from a bow, intending warm affection. jin guangyao doesn’t want to let him know that it feels like being allowed to gasp for a single breath of air before his head is shoved back underwater.

(with nie mingjue, it is worse. da-ge is just as aware as jin guangyao is when they touch, but for all the worst reasons.)

it is the strangest blessing whenever jin guangyao sees nie huaisang. it’s embarrassing, a little - the knowledge that nie huaisang understands, unlike most people in jin guangyao’s life. but nie huaisang takes that embarrassment onto his own self willingly, never hesitating before making a fool of himself in the way that only a terminally younger brother can, and simply flinging himself into his san-ge’s arms. it’s nostalgic, too: nie mingjue isn’t quite so aware of how important touch is with how proactive nie huaisang can be, and so during his days as deputy, it was often nie huaisang who gave meng yao what he could not ask for.

the cultivators at jinlintai look down on him just as the ones in the unclean realm did, but now there is no willing young master to soothe away the tangible, physical ache of it. more often than not, jin guangyao tucks his hands into his sleeves to hide the way his fingertips shake.

anyway this is my petition for jiang yanli to take two looks at this situation and promptly wrinkle her brows just the slightest amount, expressing quiet concern to jin zixuan that it’s strange how she doesn’t see anybody touch his half-brother very much, does she? and jin zixuan is a little confused, a little embarrassed, a little off-balance - he doesn’t feel close enough to jin guangyao to be that casual, but he’s an alpha, he doesn’t get it until jiang yanli explains to him, with a beta’s patience, the value of family bonds to an omega as well as jin zixuan’s responsibility as a brother (older brother? younger? his father claims older, but there’s no way to truly know - ), and isn’t it wonderful, having a little brother?

and then someone pats jin guangyao over the head until he’s feeling a little less strung-thin and out of options, he realizes he has to keep jin zixuan and jiang yanli alive lest he actually lose his mind (sympathy for da-ge? oh no...), and etc etc things end happily ever after, the end, QED.

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 year

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❝ You're just making sure I'm never gettin' over you ❞ [part 1/2]

Peter Parker x male!superhero!reader | break-up, light angst, mentions of nsf(t) stuff, 'nudes' | wc: 2k

masterlist; part1; part 2;

Peter had made sure to erase any traces of (Y/N) from their once-shared apartment. He finds himself tonguing his cheek as he confronts his ex-boyfriend on 'their' rooftop with a naughty Polaroid of (Y/N) in his hands.

Peter regretted even agreeing to spend the night out with Flash. He knew why he had but now he wished he hadn't - if he could, Peter was sure he would punch himself right in the jaw, so he'd experience this spiderweb (hah) of pain that climbed from up his jaw to his temple then and not now. The club he'd gone to was called Highball, nothing at all special other than the fact that Flash got VIP lounge access because of a friend. Peter had mulled over the thought for hours before deciding he needed something other than Grey's Anatomy to take the edge off his breakup. Flash had a whole entourage of friends and Peter mostly nodded his head to the bone-shaking music on the booth seats. He didn't hate the blonde for inviting him out. Sure, he had a somewhat complicated relationship with him, what with him being his high school bully and all. But Flash was just being nice and said something about Peter looking particularly pathetic. I probably look worse now, he thought with a muffled moan. He was hunched over his desk as he squirmed and knocked his knees together. A few concerned classmates glanced back, wondering what kind of drinks he'd gulped down to be this hungover. Sure, the brunette was clumsy, a bit messy too and came off as snarky if the smell of coffee wasn't emitting from the stains on his shirt but he was so studious! This was new. "Mr Parker" his head shot up faster than his headache liked, Peter grimaced and pursed his lips but mumbled out a 'yes, sir?' The professor eyed him apprehensively, was that slight disappointment Peter saw through his squinted eyes? "Your opinion on the current discussion, Mr Parker?" Peter bit back a snappy retort but his eyebrow twitched either way. The man had disturbed him just to ask for his opinion on whatever the fuck he'd been droning on about at 8-fucking-am? "It's uh, it's great, sir" he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose and nodding just slightly. "You...you think the modern-day slave trade is...great?" A few heads turned to stare and Peter's eyes widened. "O-Oh! Oh my God! N-No! Not at all!"

Peter elected to be the last student out of the lecture hall, worrying over his backpack which only had two wire-bound notebooks, stray pens bouncing around, a few crumpled receipts and his web shooters. His professor gave him a pointed look as he approached the front. Peter grinned sheepishly, "I'm sorry I just..." he trailed off. How was it easier to find an excuse for web-slinging than it was for getting drunk? The guilt probably made it harder to lie, he thought. "You have been concerning me as of late, Mr Parker. You show promise. I'm willing to look past your tardiness if you're alert and aware in this class, however, lately" Peter looked at his shoes as he scratched the back of his head. "I know, sir, just been a tough couple of days" his professor arched a brow. "Something to do with Mr (L/N)?" Peter's eyes widened, fist tightening on the strap of his backpack. It's been weeks since the breakup and Peter had taken the liberty of completely cutting-off contact, he'd even emptied their apartment of (Y/N)'s belongings. Hearing his name now felt so taboo. "He's been absent for a while now...after your" he scrunched his face up in pity "...tense, sudden, uhm, distant seating from each other". "Oh God" Peter was now covering his face. Had it been that obvious? A goddamn professor had taken notice! "I'm an old man, seen it all" Peter nodded while still hiding his face "Please don't let this ruin two of my best student's grades". "Yes, sir" he groaned as he walked out of the class.

The only comfort from today was the fact that he only had two lectures. Only one of which he had made a total buffoon out of himself. He'd have enough time to recuperate before it was time for patrol - AKA, nap time. Peter entered the apartment and greeted them aloud. No one answered. He felt stupid as he stood on the threshold of his front door, his grip on the poor doorknob making it squeak in alarm. Peter all but growled as he kicked it close and tossed his backpack on the stupid, lumpy, couch. "Come on, Petey. Lay with me" Peter grits his teeth together as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. He'd been petty in telling (Y/N) to get all his shit out of the apartment. Hell, he'd even opened all the windows to air out (Y/N)'s scent after a rough fight with Doc Ock which had left him bruised and annoyingly in need of (Y/N)'s tender care. He had no privilege anymore, but he wished he had, he could hear what (Y/N) would've told him. "Shh, I got you taken care of, pretty boy. Don't worry, I'm here, shh" "Fuck" he should have probably taken off the clothes he'd worn to the club - and his lectures - before he fell onto the mattress, but he felt his throat burn with the familiar rise of a sob and he simply turned to his side. "Fuckkk" (Y/N)'s side had that familiar dip, Peter could feel it, and it felt achingly foreign since he never laid on his side. Just an arm or leg tossed over the territory, maybe even his whole body if (Y/N) had gotten him in a pliant enough mood to spread his legs apart. Peter felt as though the dip was heating up in retaliation. Equally as peeved that (Y/N) wasn't there. Where he rightfully belonged, a voice whispered in his head. Peter felt tears slip past his eyelashes and he began sniffling.

The mattress wasn't exactly something he could simply toss out. Being a college student and freelance photographer whilst paying rent for a shitty apartment in New York meant that buying a new one wasn't in his budget. The whole gig as Spiderman didn't exactly pay well. Maybe he was being dramatic, imagining a dip in the mattress had feelings? Wanting to throw it out simply because his ex-boyfriend had slept on that side? He was definitely losing it. But he could do this, he could get over a boy. He had gotten over his previous partners, albeit, they did stay as friends...and they never made him feel as (Y/N) did but he'd gotten over them. For Christ's sake, he's fought against such a fantastical array of supervillains that would rather have him dead and squished on the sidewalk. He could get over a boy. With that thought in mind, Peter peeked open his eyes to stare at (Y/N)'s side of the mattress. The shitty round rattan bedside table (Y/N) had gotten from a sidewalk and refurbished for fun left a dust imprint on the floor that made Peter sigh, he'd need to wipe that away... He paused as he noticed a gleam of white stuck between the floor and mattress, hidden slightly by the bedsheets being bunched up above it. The brunette reached down, thinking nothing of it as he pulled it out. 'Meet me here, Spidey ♡ ' That was (Y/N)'s handwriting. Peter could not not know it from the hours they spent studying together. He turned it to the front and his face erupted in such delicious shades of red he did not know it could even make, it reach all the way up his ears and down his chest. (Y/N)'s vigilante suit was bunched around his hips, skin looking ever so delicious with only the camera flash, moonlight and New York lights washing over him. Peter felt his mouth go dry as he took in every little detail that shitty little Polaroid camera he'd gotten for (Y/N) for Christmas managed to capture. His lips were exposed, teeth slightly covered by a wicked tongue that was mid-lick and one of his eyes were exposed. His mask was lopsided in a way that reminded Peter of the times they'd meet up during patrol to kiss each other until oxygen ran out. "Fuck" Peter didn't need to look at the background to know where (Y/N) was. He knew exactly where the shithead had taken this picture. "Fuckkk" This day could not get any worse.

(Y/N) felt him before he heard him. Call it his spidey senses if you will, but (Y/N) could tell Peter apart from the millions of brunettes on this Earth even if his senses were taken. He'd worshipped that body too much to ever forget it. The usual thwip and thud came but then cool silence. (Y/N) hummed, feigning amusement as he straightened up from his crouched position on the ledge of the building. "Took you long enough, Spidey" "What is it that you want, (vigilante name)?" He turned his head ever so slightly to peer at Spiderman from over his shoulder. Peter gulped at the sight of (Y/N)'s darkened profile. The way the shadows sharpened the planes of his handsome face, his fingers ached to hold him. "Still bitchy?" And suddenly all that aching turned into ash in his mouth as his hands clenched into fists. "I don't have time for this" (Y/N) laughed, so sharp and loud it made Peter flinch. "No time for me but plenty of time for Flash Thompson and his goons?" (Y/N) faced him, taking steps towards him and a part of Peter cursed at himself for not moving back. He stood his ground, glaring at his ex-boyfriend through his mask. "You seriously think you can replace me with him?" (Y/N) sneered. "You seriously stalked me?" Peter said incredulously. A flash of hurt came across (Y/N)'s expression, his eyebrows sloping all pretty and it made Peter equally as hurt as he was angry. "No, I wasn't...I"

(Y/N) was so close, their chests nearly touching. But then he pulled away, arms crossing his chest as he turned to stare at the city instead. "I got worried" Peter swore his brows reached his hairline from that statement but he said nothing, knowing that (Y/N) was chewing on the insides of his cheeks as he tried to find the words to speak. Peter hated that he knew that about (Y/N). "I was an asshole, yelled things I didn't mean in the heat of the moment but I just, I can't sleep without knowing you're okay so I..." he took a breath, shoulders hugging his neck as he let his hands go limp by his side after a loud exhale. "I did some light stalking. Not Edward Cullen shit, I just make sure Spiderman isn't doing something stupid". Peter crossed his arms, watching (Y/N) for a long minute, urging him to continue. "You're usually back by 4 am when it's quiet, no bullshittery brewing. I checked the police scanners, so I know. I checked all the usual crime hotspots too, so I know. I checked if you were home so-" "You knew" Peter finished. (Y/N) swore he couldn't remember what made them fight so badly that he hadn't even fought when Peter told him to get the fuck out of their apartment. All he knew was the hotel mattress he had been sleeping on felt so foreign, uncomfortable, and strangely unclean - despite the hotel being on the higher end. (Y/N) couldn't sleep. Physically could not get his mind to shut up. Too spoiled by Peter's lips on his neck, drowsily sleep-talking, and Peter's arms around him holding him close so he didn't untether into the land of nightmares.

"...How'd you know I was at the club?" Peter scratched the back of his head and (Y/N)'s shoulders droop. His head shook as he chuckled. "Flash, asked me if I wanted to join" "But he knows we-" Peter scoffed as realized. Right. What better way to get your friends to get back together than drinks and dirty dancing? Nice try, Flash, Peter thought. He leaned against the door leading up to the rooftop, watching (Y/N) as he sat on the ledge, still facing each other. (Y/N) leaned on his hands, in the same pose as the Polaroid. Which prompted Peter to tongue his cheek. He reached into the neck area of his suit, mask lifting above his nose in the process, to pull out that goddamn Polaroid. His ex-boyfriend watched, crossed legs opening as Spiderman marched close and shoved it to his face. "Oh". "Oh," Peter mocked. "The 'light' stalking, I can forgive" (Y/N) perked up at that "But nudes?" With his mask partially lifted, (Y/N) could tell that Peter wasn't angry enough to be taken seriously - his lower lip trembles when he's excited. "Partial nude" he defended. "Unwanted partial nude" Peter retorted which made (Y/N) tilt his head as he pushed himself up to stand. Since Spiderman was between his legs as he towered and berated him, as (Y/N) rose, their breaths fanned across Peter's lips. They were closer than before. "Unwanted?" did he have to whisper so seductively? Peter felt his face warming. Peter tensed as (Y/N) pressed forward, their chests now touching. Peter scolded himself for wishing the suits they wore wasn't in the way. "Is that why you haven't tossed it away? Why haven’t you ripped it apart? Because you" his finger ghosted along Peter's sternum and towards his navel, "didn't like it?" Peter's lower lip trembled and (Y/N) fought back a smile as his hands wrapped around Peter's waist and he pulled him in. Closer. So close Peter swore the very air he was breathing was (Y/N)'s. "Never said I didn't like it" Peter whispered, his hands reaching between to cup (Y/N)'s face.

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shmunter · 3 months

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family reunions <3

#mine #my ocs #the nethal #dainn athan #perci athan #brothersssss #they are so angsty hehe #spins them around #for context dainn died when he was 11 and perci was like 6-7 #so this is them reuniting after almost 16 years #perci became a fucked up necromancer that hates reapers and dainn became a semi-reaper #very fun

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italictext · 2 months

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Made a DN oc (Rae, it/its)!! Rae and L work together and here's a doodle of Rae styling L's hair! :3

( @nateriverswife @/ing you because you're kinda the reason I decided to draw them lol)

#Death Note #Original character art #Oc: Rae #My ocs #My art #Death Note fanart #L Lawliet #Oc #Original character #death note oc #Oc x canon #L Death Note #Rae isn't actually a new OC I made it last year but forgot about its existence until I read mazzaroth #Sadly not done reading it but I enjoy it so far!!! I really love Ethe!#I'd like to talk about Rae and L's story but I honestly have no idea how to explain it 😭#I'm pretty bad at plotting stories it's just very very very vague ideas + silly conversations and emotional scenes #Basically they're forced to work together but Rae hates L but a lot of stuff happens so now they're friends #I'm planning to change their story tho because this morning I had a bunch of new ideas for them #The original story was super super angsty but I don't want angst anymore I just want fluff now </3 #Plus Rae's story and lore became a mess when I tried taking it out of the DN universe (I failed lol)#Its story really reallyyy needs an update

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vala-dreams · 2 years

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I can see tall Jazz getting really used to manhandling people around.

Like she's probably had to do it since the day Danny was born like look at the state of their house,,,,someone had to be ready to grab the baby at all times and y'all already know that someone ain't gonna be Jack or Maddie.

Not that they don't care about Danny. They're just far to consumed by their work to be bothered. Which is basically abuse cause child neglect but we can discuss that at a later date.

So yeah, Jazz getting really used to manhandling Danny to get him out of harm's way and later doing the same for Sam and Tucker when the whole Phantom fiasco comes around.

I feel like she would be very frustrated during this time, especially in the early days because up to this point she has considered herself as Danny's protector. His guardian. The one who would always keep him away from harm, the girl who would always be there to carry him away from danger. But it isn't like that anymore. She can't fight ghosts. Sure, there's the thermos and all the ghost hunting equipment but she knows that none of that matters. It doesn't matter if she can fight ghosts or not, Danny is going to fight them anyway.

And that scares her. And it frustrates her too, because she can't just stop Danny from fighting. It isn't going to help him. It isn't going to help if she finds some miracle way to make Danny listen because she knows that he feels guilty. She knows that he thinks it's his fault that ghosts are terrorizing Amity now. The feeling must be bad enough now as it is.

And so it goes. Everytime there's a rouge ghost, everytime Phantom has to fight, she's there. Everytime the Fentons come out to hunt her brother, she's there to stope them. Everytime there's a civillian trapped under miles of debri, she's there to tear it away with her bare hands.

Because she can't sit and do nothing. Because she can't just stand on the sidelines and watch. Because she can't let him do this alone.

She is Jazz Fenton, daughter of two of the most brilliantly deranged paranormal scientists, armed with the equipment to show for it. She is Jazz Fenton, the elder sister always looking out for herself and her brother, even when her parents didn't. She is Jazz Fenton, the girl who refuses to let the people she cares about suffer.

She is Jazz Fenton, and she is The Guardian.

....

And then, some nights, when the ghosts have been defeated, when all their wounds, all their rips and tears have been sewed back together, Danny would crawl up into her arms and fall asleep.

In those nights, with soft moonlight streaming in through her window, with Danny's slight, cold weight in her arms, she feels like a person again.

Just for a moment. Just for a little while till the world needs The Guardian again.

Till Danny needs The Guardian again.

............................................................................

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A TALL JAZZ SHITPOST WHA—

Okay anyway, superhero Jazz au in which Jazz is called The Guardian.

She has eldest daughter syndrome. And will psychoanalyze everyone except herself so she doesn't even know it

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badlydrawn-brostrider · 4 months

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This blog is gonna make me spontaneously combust i swear to fucking god i cannot take the feels/pos

/ / Oh no, don't spontaneously combust!! If you do you'll miss out on all the Bro angst and hurt I've got planned.

/ / I'm sure you don't wanna miss it >:]

#dunno when this became a hurt/minimal comfort blog but im living for it LOL #woe bro angst be upon ye #giving MYSELF whiplash with switching between the silly and the angsty LMAO #my friends hate me for surprise bombing them with hurt HAHAHA #not bro #mod sylv

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batfamhyperfixation · 1 year

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I need more content of Tim's jealousy when other siblings come in and become close to Dick. Like every time someone says Damian is Dick's favorite it hurts my heart a little cause I know how Tim would feel.

It's one thing for a younger sibling to grow up with you, cause like at least then you all have your defined roles and it's like what you know so you aren't stepping on one another's toes, but like it's something completely else to have a sibling who is already grown up come into the family and become siblings with your sibling.

It is just like that longing feeling when you see them together and like they haven't known each other as long yet they seem closer to your sibling than you are, and everyone knows they are the favorite and you are just like how do they get along so well with so little effort.

I need more Tim and Dick content like this. The boy went from being Dick's only sibling still around (aka no competition for being brothers and nothing to compare it to) to being like 1 of 5 of dick's siblings, and I know this also goes in reverse where the newer sibling is jealous of the older two siblings for already having the established bond, but I dont see enough of Tim having bitter envy of how close Damian and Dick are despite not knowing each other as long, like you want angsty relationships DC, show me this instead of just everyone trying to kill Tim, show me silent envy that grows more and more as it slowly decays a sibling relationship instead of like a weird ritual where if you wanna be apart of the family you have to attempt to kill tim

#sometimes i just need angsty tim #not tim getting targeted by siblings or tim getting annoyed at siblings #just Tim who finally became brothers with his idol and hero and formed a relationship with having to watch as it goes from their small #contained group of dick tim Bruce and babs where tim is like the best brother dick has got to everyone especially damian coming in #and tim feeling crowded out and jealous as damian and dick become closer than tim and dick ever were and tim slowly pulls away #and at first dick not even noticing and tim feeling guilty every time a dispute comes up and feeling guilty over how happy he feels when #damian ticks dick off and tim starts throwing himself into other things and flakes/cancels on things he and dick have planned and #finally one time tim and dick are sitting around and tim is like i miss how close we were and dick laughing is like well you're so busy now #and tim is like 'well its not like you need me anyway you have damian and jason and cass and duke and- nevermind' tim cuts himself off #dick is like 'timmy you know im still here for you just like before' and tim is just like 'yeah sure whatever' and heads out and then dick #starts noticing that tim is keeping him at arms length so he keeps trying to connect and he sees how tim keeps getting close with others #but that he refuses to with dick and then the jealousy is both ways and slowly they start to come together again as brothers and things #arent quite the same and probably will never be but they are still brothers and they love each other #but things are complicated when you go from the only sibling to having like 5 siblings and i want that explored more #i want these complex sibling relationships dc. give me this over trying to kill tim. there is more to siblings than the cain instinct.#anyway thats my rant #tim drake #dick grayson #batkids #batfam #bat family #batsiblings

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illmoraineakoi · 2 months

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Or, continuing from this, consider:

Perhaps, the human-turned-Vessel isn’t alone when they wake up. Perhaps they aren’t the only Vessel left trapped in the Abyss. Perhaps, these others that look similar to what they now are can help them.

If they can communicate, it soon becomes clear that the others aren’t like themselves; they’re not human people shoved into these bodies. They seem to have been born into them like normal. They’ve been here for a long time.

If they can’t, the human still gets the impression it’s unique among them, through observing their behavior and their reactions.

Regardless, the others seem fascinated by them, how differently they act and behave. Maybe the others begin to mimic them.

Perhaps it’s the others who tell them of their memories, of the bright white light that they once saw shine from the top of the pit, calling to them, drawing them to ascend, that vanished before they could reach the top. Never returning. Maybe it’s that story, the insinuation that there’s a way out at the top, that provokes the escape attempt. Maybe the others are hesitant, fearful of the climb (of falling and cracking and breaking, irreparable, dying a slow painful death) but they chose to join them regardless, to help, the idea of freedom from this place too tantalizing for them to resist.

It’s easier to dig through several feet of hard dense rock with multiple ‘people’.

(Far harder to make a hole big enough to compensate for all of their horns.)

The result is the same: the sounds of their digging was heard by those in the Basin, and the King was notified. And given the area of origin, the King himself investigates.

He does not expect to come upon the sight that he does: a sub-adult Vessel helping another sub-adult try to wriggle through a hole carved through the hard basin stone, completely circumventing the sealed door entirely.

It is...almost amusingly ingenious of them. Had they not been Vessels, he would’ve been quite proud.

(Then again, if they hadn’t been Vessels, they would have never been in the Abyss in the first place. They would still be his children, carapace a healthy gleaming white, eyes full of emotion and thought, bodies full of life--)

As it was, the sight is neither amusing nor one to be proud of.

Instead, it is concerning.

Vessels should not have been able to do this. They should have the cognitive ability to do this. There shouldn’t have even been any left alive after so long down there, their bodies should have destabilized long ago…

So the fact that it was not just ONE Vessel but TWO that had managed to do this, to survive, to literally claw and dig themselves out of the proverbial grave he’d sealed them in, like the undead zombies he’d cursed them to be…

It was beyond unsettling.

He needed answers. He needed to figure out how they’d done this. All of it. How they’d survived, how they’d figure out how to escape, how they’d figured out how to cooperate, and most importantly: what it meant for the Pure Vessel plan.

His presence to them did not go unnoticed, and neither did the way they both seemed to freeze at the sight of him.

Their gazed locked for an uncomfortably long time, until he forced himself to break the standoff.

He unsealed the door with a wave of his hand, startling the two Vessels. Startling them. They startled-

There were more.

Beyond the door, crowded atop the metal platform in a way that looked both uncomfortable and precarious, were at least a dozen additional Vessels. And that wasn’t even all of them, because he could see, deeper into the shadows beyond the platform, at least two other heads sticking up, likely from a lower platform. There could be even more on platforms even further down he couldn’t see.

He felt pinned by the weight of so many empty black gazes. They all felt accusatory, even though he could see that they weren't.

The situation, his concerns, had become significantly more dire.

One of the Vessels – one of the first two he’d seen, the one completely free on his side – moved. Stood, and moved to stand before the now open door, body hunched, ragged cloak membrane flaring a bit. It lowered it’s head, brandishing it’s horns towards him.

Defensive, he realized.

A defensive posture. Protective.

It held an old void-ravaged metal spike in it’s hand, the tip clearly blunted from when it had been used as a digging tool. As though it was ready to use it as a weapon should it need to.

The one still stuck in the wall was slowly wriggling back into the Abyss side of the hole.

There was something in his gut that was screaming at him, telling him that something was wrong, this wasn’t right, this couldn’t be happening--

He needed to figure this out.

It took quite a bit of coaxing, but eventually he was able to get them all onto solid ground out of the door and then to follow him back to the Palace. And it was during this time that he was confronted with the obvious fact that these Vessels were impure; very impure.

Impure in ways he hadn’t expected them to be.

They were remarkably physically stable, but they behaved unlike how he expected. They were wary of him, uncertain of their new surroundings, and yet also curious. Inquisitive. Upon arriving to the Palace, several heads kept swiveling to look at everything and anything with refrained fascination, while yet others did not seem to care in the least. There was one who particularly seemed inclined to get close and to touch things, to nose at them. Another seemed wary and uncomfortable with the wide open spaces. And yet still another to stare at him the entire walk, gaze hot with an emotion that he couldn’t read.

They had thoughts. They had emotions. And judging by the escape attempt, they were at least decently intelligent.

Vessels were not supposed to be like this. None of them were supposed to be like this. The Void was supposed to purge such qualities long before they ever hatched. It was supposed to make it impossible for them to develop such qualities as well.

He’d rechecked his work so many times before putting the plan into action. Looked at every future he could, despite his bluing foresight. He and Monomon had gone over everything with a fine-tooth comb.

This wasn’t supposed to be possible.

They weren’t supposed to be…

The first thing he does is write for Monomon, stressing that her presence within the Palace was urgent.

If Vessels could retain some innate qualities of livelihood, or if they could develop the ability to have such things despite their void nature...it jeopardized the entire Pure Vessel plan.

It was no longer a guarantee that the Vessel was empty like he’d assumed it to be.

He and Monomon would have to assess every new Vessel, run a plethora of tests on them. Figure out how, exactly, they were functioning and what, if anything, was inside of their heads.

(In the meantime, as he waited for her to arrive, he sends them off to the baths, because each one was utterly filthy from the Abyss. Particularly one who looked like they’d taken a dip into the Void Sea itself, somehow.)

(This turned out to be a mistake with at least a third of them. They soon became much more interested in playing in the water than cleaning themselves.)

Upon the completion of the assessments and the tests, all of which the new Vessels did not seem to enjoy, the data collected was exactly as the King had feared it would be. It showed, in undeniable terms, that every single one of the new Vessels not only had minds, but also an individuality about them. They had unique personalities.

They were still alive.

They were still his children.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

It was an agonizing revelation.

If all of these living Vessels were like this, then what did that say about how the ones littering the floor of the Abyss used to be?

Had he stood there, watching, as his children, still in possession of their personhoods despite the void infused into their beings, fell and died? Had he stood there, watching, and done nothing as they died?

He’d thought they were all empty. He’d thought that the ones who were incapable of climbing were defective, unstable, failures. Imperfect. That it didn’t matter, because they were nothing more than hollowed out corpses. Nothing more than void-corrupted bodies shackling a shade, devoid of thought, devoid of emotion, devoid of the ability to feel pain…

That there wasn’t anything left of the children they were supposed to be. That those children had died the moment the void consumed them, long before their residual bodies hit the floor.

He’d been wrong.

The models had been wrong, the predictions had been wrong, all of the work he and Monomon spent years developing and perfecting and working for months to make sure it was absolutely, perfectly correct…

It was all wrong.

And an uncountable number of his children had died because of it.

And he’d watched.

Likely, the only Vessels still alive were the ones he’d recently found, and the Pure Vessel. Why would any other remaining Vessels not come with the new Vessels in their escape attempt? No, the ones within his Palace, within the room he’d hastily set up as a sort of holding play room, were all that were left.

Two handfuls, out of so many…

Less than two dozen...

At this point, if the Pure Vessel was indeed born pure, and somehow remained so until now, it would be the biggest case of sheer luck he’d ever had. It would be the most extreme statistical anomaly possible. Somehow, despite everything about their work being wrong, they would have gotten what they needed out of it.

They only needed to confirm that it was still pure.

And if it was, they needed to isolate it from the other new Vessels, to prevent any potential influence from ruining it.

But there was also the matter of what to do with the new Vessels as well…

They needed care, and then tutoring. They had much they needed to learn, to catch up on. They needed to be taught how to read and write, how to socialize, manners and etiquette, personal care and proper behavior. How to be careful with any void they spill to not harm others. How to be royal children.

Plus whatever individual skills they might take interest in.

He does not know how to tell his Root.

No matter how delicately he tries to word it, how gently he tries to say it, the truth will hurt her. His mistake, his failure, will cause her pain. He does not know if she would even want anything to do with them.

Alive they might be, they were still Vessels. They were still a tainted, corrupted, disfigured mockery of how their children were supposed to be. Looking upon them as they were made his heart ache, he could not fathom how much the sight of them hurt her. Seeing them as they are, as Vessels, behaving and acting like normal bugs, possessing personalities like normal children, might be too much for her to bear.

But even if she could not give them her love as their mother, he would give them his. They deserved it, they’d deserved it long before now.

It would not be easy, figuring out how to manage and educate so many Vessels, but he would do his best to do so. To keep them safe, to offer them a comfortable life long overdue, to give them as much love as he’s able.

(The human-turned-Vessel is not sure what to think about this. They don’t understand the situation they’ve found themselves in. The King was calling them, and the others like it, his children, and it made them feel a bit uncomfortable. The others had been wary at first, but then accepted the role and designation of the King’s children fully and eagerly. They were struggling with this. They felt like an imposer among them, they were not like them, they were not the King’s child, adopted or otherwise.)

(At the same time, the others like them were treating them like a sibling. Calling them a sibling. Loving them like a sibling. They considered them a sibling, and the human-turned-Vessel wasn’t sure if they really understood that they weren’t. They felt like a hijacker of this body. But despite that...they enjoyed the bond they share with the others. They love being considered a part of a group. They enjoyed the companionship, they enjoyed not being alone. They found themselves wanting that love and affection the others freely give, but in doing so, they feel guilty. Their feelings are a flurry of conflict ions and uncertainty.)

(It did not feel right to simply accept it all without question. It felt like they were being greedy. Taking something they had no right to.)

(There was also the issue of the other that they had seen once before, but that did not join the rest of the ‘siblings’. They had clearly been the same as the rest of them, an identical creature, but they’d not seen it since that first initial encounter. Where they had seen and heard the King order it, like it was a servant. This concerned them. They did not understand why all the rest of the King’s children, the ‘siblings’ were always bundled together, yet that one was not.)

(It had already been outside of the terrible place. Beyond the barrier that looked uncomfortable like a door. Why?)

(There was so much going on in this place they did not understand, so much that seemed to be going on above their heads. It was unnerving. They didn’t like it.)

(They wanted answers.)

(And if they had to conspire with their ‘siblings’ against their new adopted ‘father’ to get information and figure out what the hell was happening, what they were, what that dark pit closed off from the rest of the world was...well…)

(So be it.)

#hollow knight #hk oc insert #hk pale king #This accidentally became a PK centric wHOOPS #This was the second version of the original idea #It's a lot less angsty lmao #I just love the image of PK just rolling up to the entrance to the Abyss to find a Vessel trying to pull another through a hole in the wall #And then when he opens the door there's just a crowd of them staring at him like a gang of raccoons getting caught in the trash cans #Pure Vessel is having a constant panic attack watching their siblings be blatantly not hollow and putting their whole purity act at risk #PV: oh my god the King's gonna figure it out the King's gonna figure it out tHE KING'S GONNA FIGURE IT-#The 'glaring' Vessel is Ghost btw #They're a bit salty PK shut the door in their face

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