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greyskyflowers · 3 months

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Finally caught up on Bleach TYBW (anime) and a need to discuss a potential idea.

~ More Ichigo and the Visored ~

⚠️ Please scroll past this if you're worried about spoilers for the anime ⚠️

So because the idea that some of the visored die so soon after they've finally gotten back to normal devastates me in ways I can't fully put into words, and because I will never get enough visored and Ichigo interactions/relationships, I think a canon divergent/AU type fic idea towards the end of the 2nd season would be so fun to explore.

As always I'm gonna add in some more instinctive traits that I like to imagine the visored have.

So, I'm really into the idea that Mayuri can save Rose and Kensei but he's not going to do it out of the good of his heart. He's got the thing he's doing with the zombie type stuff already so let's imagine he's can save them still somehow. Or that they're going to be fine and everything's fine, totally fine. They're all good

However, Ichigo would be a prize that would make saving them worth the trouble. This would be perfect opportunity. He'll heal Rose and Kensei if Ichigo agrees to go with him, they negotiate x amount of time. Maybe a week or whatever.

Even better, Ichigo agrees to this. No one can even say that Mayuri had taken him against his will or done something worth being stripped of captain because when Ichigo agreed. And Mayuri is even going to honor the time frame agreed upon. He knows that he's already pushing it with the deal tbh.

I personally can't believe there aren't more fics about Mayuri trying everything he can to get Ichigo in his labs for testing and observation.

But I want to focus on the visored and Ichigo with this.

Rose and Kensei wake up to the others and they all have a little time for themselves as a group because the idea of losing any of them is devastating and they almost did.

And maybe people still aren't panicking about Ichigo yet, everyone assuming he's with someone else, but that quickly changes. Because Ichigo isn't with Chad and Orihime, or Rukia and Renji, or Urahara, Ganju, etc. And people start to panic because where the fuck is Ichigo?

I like the idea that Mayuri just tells people when they get smart enough to side eye him after he's been strangely quiet about wasting resources on searching for someone like Ichigo.

He didn't do anything wrong, after all. He and Ichigo had made a deal. They will get Ichigo back after the allotted time is up.

So everyone is stuck waiting for the time to be up, hovering outside the 12 division in shifts, trying to keep Kisuke from destroying his old division in a breathtaking rage and attempting to convince Kenpachi to wait until they have Ichigo before killing the clown.

No one quite gets what happened though. What could Mayuri had offered that Ichigo wanted so bad?

And maybe only a few people figure it out, or maybe everyone does, but somehow the visored put together that Ichigo saved Rose and Kensei specifically.

What would that mean to people who were used to betrayal? Who probably only truly trusted or loved each other?

Sure, Ichigo is one of their. And I wish we got to see more interactions with them. Bleach has so many great relationships and dynamics that we never really dig into as much as I'd like. But he was so young and there was a slight disconnect between them because Ichigo hadn't been betrayed like they had, he hadn't been left to simmer in his anger for years like they had.

They're fond of him, more so than they are about most people, but they would never had asked this of him. Or ever have even expected it. And that makes it even worse because Ichigo didn't need them to ask, he just did it.

There are certain people are Ichigo's, his to protect and love and sacrifice for. His sisters, Chad, Orihime, Uryu, Rukia, Kisuke, the Visored, and more.

So Mayuri had the ability to save people that Ichigo considers his and he didn't even have to think about it.

Of course he'd let Mayuri do his experiments on him, as long as Rose and Kensei would be okay. Because Ichigo also knows that it's going to destroy the other visored to hear that they're gone.

When the time period is up, Ichigo comes stumbling out of the 12th like he's drunk, clearly hurt, and starting to fall only to immediately be swept up and away by one or more of the visored.

There are many people who want to see Ichigo, to check on him and make sure he's okay but they all step back and allow the visored a chance to have him first.

They have a wildness to their eyes that doesn't have anything to do the gold in them and they seem darker, right on the edge of being cruel if they deem it necessary.

No one is going to touch Ichigo when he's hurt and vulnerable because of them.

So everyone steps back and lets them be the ones to get him first.

They have a room they consider safe and comfortable, far enough away to have some privacy but close enough that no one was going to throw a fit about Ichigo being too far away.

They hover when someone from the 4th comes in to check Ichigo and they make their intentions of being alone with him known to anyone who's brave enough to check on them.

They settle around the room with lips curled back to show teeth and eyes glowing, looking like the monsters they try so hard to not be. Their bodies sink into the shadows of the room and golden eyes focus on their youngest, hurt and passed out on a little futon in the middle of the room.

And to add to it, I think something about not being able to heal everything because they don't know what Mayuri gave him and how it will react to kaido, so he's just bandaged up for the time being.

Chad, Orihime, Rukia, Kisuke, and others keep everyone away and guard the room. Even though they would love to see Ichigo and make sure he's okay, they know that the visored need him more right now.

They make sure food and water is regularly provided and try to not look when the door opens enough for a hand to reach out and grab the supplies.

They looked once when the door cracked open and they just saw darkness and gold, a growled warning that went all the way down to their bones and had them snapping back around and pretending they hadn't seen anything.

Ichigo smells like blood and salt and hurt. It burns their noses because he's supposed to smell like warmth and power and Ichigo. Like pack.

He eventually wakes up and, because it's Ichigo, the first thing he focuses on is how happy he is to see Rose and Kensei are okay. How happy he is to see that they're all okay.

He smiles but it doesn't sit quite right on his face because he's still bruised and hurt. They yell at him, calling him everything they can think of and trying to make sure it's drilled into his head that he should never do something like that again.

He knows they've been staying there with him though, can tell by the state of the room that they haven't left him. They look rough, exhausted but with a fresh burst of energy from him waking up.

He can hear the thank yous in-between their lectures and complaining. He can feel the affection in the way they keep looking him over, all of them close enough to jump into action if he needed them. He knows they say don't ever do that again but they mean we will never put you in that position again, and god you're a fucking idiot but they mean god you're our fucking idiot.

There's still a small smile on his face, and he says he'd do it all over again.

-------------------

1.) I'm fucking obsessed with Senjumaru. She's perfect. Her character design is beautiful, her bankai is incredible, and she could stab me with needles and I'd say thank you.

2.) I'm also enjoying Askin a lot? I've honestly found most of the quincy characters annoying as fuck but I'm enjoying him so far.

#bleach #ichigo kurosaki #bleach tybw #rose otoribashi #kensei muguruma #kisuke urahara #shinji hirako #visoreds #visored #au ideas #canon divergent au #my babies deserve better let them have a happy ending please #i know the manga is further and i need to catch up but this idea wouldn't leave my head #idk i just want Ichigo to be loved on #reaping souls with greyskyflowers

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darehearts · 2 months

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canon divergence my most beloved

#i hold canon divergence in my hands............. and i raise it #like it's baby simba #KSDJHFKSJHFKSJHFSF #that's all 😌✌🏻#tbd

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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part one

———

Lance was fast. He’d always been fast, for as far as he could reach back his memory; blurry snapshots of toddling away from his mother before she could grab him, out the front door and down the stairs and nearly squashed flat by cars rushing by too fast for what’s supposed to be a residential neighbourhood, saved only by the quick hands of angels that only exist in stained glass churches.

Perhaps it was there, then, that it started; Lance’s fascination with speed, the desperation to go so fast nothing else could catch up.

Or perhaps Lance was born with a restlessness, one that ran so deep it powered an engine.

Either way, he was fast enough to trail the black car. It did not move even a fraction as quickly as it did during the race; ambling easily and luxuriously down the broken streets, as if they driver did not care if they were caught. Or perhaps cared abundantly; to drive so slowly and so silent that no one could hear. It was easy for Lance to follow it, then, sprinting between streetlights and ducking behind crooked basketball nets at the ends of cracked driveways. He followed the car down twisting streets and avenues, down courts and roads, deep into the heart of the city that Lance was not allowed to be in alone, and never at night. He followed the car until the streetlights flickered out, becoming scarcer and scarcer, until there were none at all, and the only guide was the tiniest shine from the crescent moon and the barest twinkling of the three or four stars still visible from the thickness of the air pollution. Lance could barely see his own hands.

But still he followed.

Eventually the car turned onto a gravel road, the crackling of the tires on the rough road covering every wince and quiet “ow” as tiny rocks dug into Lance’s heels and toes. He was almost relieved when the skin of his feet finally cracked and bled, if only to provide the tiniest amount of insulation between his flesh and the unforgiving rock.

The car stopped just before a decrepit shed, rotten wood of the roof lying against the equally eroded brick of a tired, old house. A man emerged from the driver side with a slam and a curse, gloved hands flicking through a stack of cash and muttering angrily.

“Damn fools think I don’t know how to count,” he spat, stalking towards the shed. He wrenched open the giant barnyard-style doors with a swing and a kick, yanking on a dangling string to turn on the lights.

For the thousandth time that night, the sight in front of him left Lance breathless: a proper garage, with tools lining the walls and barrels of engine grease in the corner. He watched as the man — still grumbling and distracted — stalked towards the back of the car, heaving as he gently pushed the prize racer into the cramped shed, careful not to scratch her paint. The gentleness in which he treated his car softened his features, untwisting his scowl and smoothing the angry lines between his brow. He looked twenty years younger, three lifetimes less jaded.

As safe a time as any, Lance supposed.

“Where’d ya learn to race like that?” Lance asked, stepping boldly into the light of the garage.

The man yelped in surprise, hand coming immediately down to his hip and pointing a gun at Lance’s head faster than he could blink.

Lance probably should have felt some inkling of fear. Even if the man didn’t shoot him out of surprise, he might be mad enough to kill him anyway. But Lance stood calmly, right where he was, rocking on his heels and looking at the gun with the same morbid curiosity with which he watched the race.

“Didja learn to shoot the same place you learned to drive? Can you teach me? I’ve always wanted to shoot.”

“Where in the goddamn hell did you come from, kid?” the man demanded.

Lance shrugged. “Space, probably. My momma don’t know either.”

“That’s not what I — oh, forget it.” Finally the man put the gun back in its holster, sighing deeply as he reached instead for a flask, taking several long gulps. “Go home. If you come back here again I’ll shoot your dumbass, trespassing head in.”

“Where would you hide the body?” Lance questioned, stepping closer.

It was an honest question. This place was a little out of the way, sure, but not so far that people wouldn’t hear a gunshot and come looking. Hell, there didn’t even seem to be enough grass or dirt to bury him proper, just a lot of dry, crackling ground that was far too hard to stick a shovel in. If this man was going to kill him, it was going to be a helluva struggle for him to handle the aftermath.

The man took another few swigs, draining the flask, and then narrowed his eyes at Lance.

“You’re a weird goddamn kid,” he said.

Lance shrugged again. He was; there was no arguing that.

“How long have you been racing? Did you buy your car or make it? Can you make a car? What kinda car is it? Have you ever run someone over? Have you ever been arrested? How old are you? You look older than my mama but younger than my abuela.”

The man ignored him, popping the hood of the car and leaning in closely. Lance did, too, curious about the engine and what the man was going to do with it.

“It kinda looks like an alien spaceship,” Lance observed. “Lots of weird squiggly parts.”

“Shut up or I’m gonna knock you with a wrench,” the man said mildly.

Lance was undeterred. He got worse threats from the kids at school, and they actually carried through with them.

“I’m Lance. One day I’m gonna run so fast I’m gonna blip out to space, like the Flash.”

The man grunted, prodding at a round piece of metal with a screwdriver.

“What does that do? Can I touch it?”

This made the man pause. He reached over one gloved hand and clamped it on Lance’s shoulder, squeezing painfully.

“Kid,” he said, and his tone was so serious it flattened the air, “if you touch my goddamn car, I’m going to go ballistic. Understand?”

Lance nodded. That sounded like the kids at school, like something the man was genuine about doing.

“Good. Now —” he slammed the hood back down, then guided Lance forcefully towards to door, shoving him out. “I just won four hundred dollars, and I’m nearly outta whiskey. I’m going to finish my last bottle, and in the ten minutes it takes me to do that, you are going to get lost, because I am a very angry man when I’m out of whiskey. I am then going to walk to the store and buy myself more whiskey, very happy that there are no infuriating children to bother me while I do that. You are going to stay gone. Do you understand?”

Lance looked at the man, whose red face was already starting to twitch. He looked at the car. Quickly, he crossed his fingers behind his back.

“I understand.”

The man nodded. “Good. Now go.”

Lance did, scrambling out of his hold and down the driveway, sprinting so fast he barely felt the rocks lodging themselves in his cut-up feet. He didn’t slow down for even a second, not when he turned a corner too fast and landed flat on his face, not when he caught a glimpse of blue and red lights flashing in the distance, not when he saw the flash of movement in a window of a nosy neighbour closing her blinds. He ran faster than he’d ever run before, flying down roads and chalk-decorated sidewalks, so fast the pounding of his feet on the broken pavement was faster even than the pounding of his heart.

When he got back to his house, crawling quickly back up to his window and into his room, when he hastily washed the blood from his feet and dirt from his hands, the air settled properly in his lungs for the first time in his life.

#i like writing all pretentious and prose-y it’s fun #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #kid lance #baby lance #langst #autistic lance #autistic lance mcclain #racer lance #canon divergence #my writing #fic #longpost

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beanmaster-pika · 8 months

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Me when I get into a new series or game: hello! where are the tragic brothers

#I AM NOTICING A PATTERN.#I don’t think this ever actually got me when I was younger but mdzs changed my brain chemistry #yunmeng bros rotted my brain. then ragbros filled in the empty spot. now it’s malleus and silver.#and like it’s specifically the closeness that gives way to diverging paths and direct conflict.#pika’s ramblings #THE BROKEN TRUST #THE RESIGNATION #I will say though that the tragedy has gotten potentially somewhat less with each one #wwx and jc may never speak again although I hold hope that over their long lifetimes they WILL try to patch things up #for their nephew’s sake if nothing else #but diluc and kaeya have been canonically starting to rebuild the bridge #malleus and silver’s conflict will probably end when malleus’s overblot does #ALTHOUGH THE TRAGEDY OF MALLEUS OUTLIVING HIS BABY BROTHER BY MILLENNIA WILL STILL BE THERE.

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thatslayer · 8 months

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You know how you sometimes don't have time for another blog but Stu Macher has taken up permanent residence in your brain? I'm having that kind of afternoon.

#{ ------------time out. ( ooc )#Maybe a ridiculously canon Stu #a very 1990s Stu #Diverging only to keep him alive?#Why are all my babies fite-y stab babies?#scream spoilers

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chellesdump · 6 months

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Fallen Angel - Joel and Ellie

"Of course, Joel knows that Ellie isn’t exactly the most angelic kid ever, she is a force of nature getting in trouble at any given chance and never listening when she is given instruction. But if she wants to dress like an angel for the little Halloween party they throwing at the canteen, hell he’s getting her dressed like an angel even if Tommy says she would fit more into a demon costume"

word count ─ 1.6k

tags ─ little! kid! ellie, papa! joel, uncle! tommy & aunt! maria, poor ellie needs a chance on a normal childhood or as close as normal as you can get on a apocalyptic world, canon divergence

notes ─ This is for the Angel/Demon prompt. Canon events from the game up until the WLF comes to Jackson, Abby related events didn’t happened, Ellie is still mad at Joel for lying but like we know she gives their relationship a chance once again. Please enjoy this piece

Trying to rebuild their relationship had proven to be a hard matter, that day 3 years back had really put a strain on how much the relationship had progressed and it felt like they were back to the start of the Summer of '33.

But nonetheless Joel was glad that Ellie had given him another chance to be in her life, and he was going to make the most of it to get it back at were it was, he wasn’t to lose another daughter forever. He was going to be the best dad that Ellie could get, and no he wasn’t getting sappy, it was just that she deserved so many great things just like he had given to Sarah, both his daughters deserved to have the world at their feet.

For Ellie the world was getting brighter, she could finally truly relax snuggled against Joel in his… their living room watching some movie they had found on patrol, reading some of her comics or a book, even just sitting there hearing him do anything around the house was ideal. When they had settled into a comfortable relationship back when they were traveling the country, Ellie had started regressing, not that either she or Joel knew that back then, but they had always noticed that sometimes she would act more childish than any other teen they knew.

Once they came to live in Jackson they truly explored that aspect once a doctor in the community told them about the whole regression thing, none of them wanted to admit it, but the doctor explained that it was completely normal given the circumstances of the world, and they finally embraced it when she told them that lots of the teens/young adults that had come into the community did it as well.

So when she distanced herself from Joel it had put a huge strain on her mental health, she had leaned into her regression as her principal source to relieve stress but without Joel it just wasn’t the same, and she could not regress properly by herself or having anyone else taking care of her.

But all that was behind them, right at this moment Ellie was sitting on the floor of Joel’s woodwork studio drawing on her sketchbook while he carved a figurine, the mood was calm, each one in their own world until Ellie remembered something.

“Papa! I finally knows what I wants to be fo’ the party!” yelled Ellie turning to face Joel, almost cutting his finger at the sudden outburst he put everything down on the table, preparing to tell Ellie off for yelling but upon seeing the excitement on her face he decided against it.

“Really? What are you going to be?” asked Joel putting his whole attention on her, “Am gonna be Angel!!” exclaimed Ellie shaking from the emotion, then she started rambling about how all the other kids were going to be so jealous at the magnificence of her costume, Joel could only chuckle while listening.

He promised to make her the best Angel costume ever, the next day he went to the library trying to get all the books he could find with images of angels to try and sketch an idea of the costume, but he remembered that he was so bad at drawing things so he went to Maria looking for help. The next days he spent all his free time planning the costumes when he wasn’t on patrol, and when he was out would search for anything that could be used on Ellie’s costume.

—

Joel and Tommy were in a nearby town while patrolling to get rid of all the infected when he stumbled into a hardware store, Jackpot he thought going into the store hoping to find some things he needed from there. While Joel rummaged through the different aisles Tommy came inside as well and questioned his older brother's actions, “What are you exactly doing Joel? We should be looking for more infected to get rid of or go back home. You don’t need any more tools back home, I’m sure you already have enough of them to open your own hardware store back there”.

“I’m not looking for tools, I need some steel wire for the wings of Ellie’s costume,” said Joel going back to keep looking for the item, “You sure your girl should dress as an angel? I think a demon would be more fitting,” said Tommy holding back laughter, “She wants to, so I’m making sure she will. Now stop being such a pain and help me look for it so we can get going as soon as possible” grumbled Joel.

—

Once he had gotten all the necessary supplies Joel began the true making of the costume, measuring Ellie up to know what size the wings should be since he didn’t want her to stumble and hurt herself if they ended to big.

“Papa can we eats grilled cheese and ‘mato soup? Dina says Talia mades it fo’ her and was so tasty, so I wan’ some too p’ease” begged Ellie using her best puppy eyes, even if she knew that her Papa was wrapped around her little finger and would do anything she asked for, or at least that was what uncle Tommy said.

“Sure thing baby girl, once we are finished here we’ll go ask Tommy and Maria for some butter since a certain little girl ate all we had this morning at breakfast” said Joel teasing Ellie, making her let out tiny giggles and swear she didn’t know what her Papa was talking about.

As promised Joel and Ellie went towards Tommy and Maria’s house, upon arrival Ellie wanted to barge in but was stopped by Joel, “Baby girl, remember we can’t just barge inside, we need to knock so they let us in” reprimanded Joel, knocking on the door waiting for someone to open it.

Soon after Tommy opened the door to greet them, “What brings you here at this hour? Please come in, it’s getting a little chilly outside” said Tommy and when the last word came out of his mouth Ellie ran inside, “Unca’ Tommy, where’s Auntie ‘Ria? I wanna see her” exclaimed the little girl looking all around the first floor for her aunt, but not having luck with her mission.

“Is that my favorite little girl that I’m hearing? Have she come to visit me and give me lots of love?” asked Maria, faking surprise when she spotted Ellie and opening her arms for the running girl that was coming to her. With a tud Ellie crashed into her aunt’s arms and hugged her, getting kisses all over her face as a response, when the kiss attack finished she began to tell Maria all about her day.

“Guess what Auntie ‘Ria? Papa’s making grilled cheese and ‘mato soup fo’ dinner!!” mentioned Ellie when she remembered why they were there, “Oh really? You must be so excited about eating such a yummy dinner” said Maria chuckling at what could make a little kid so excited.

“Yes!! Dina says it’s so yummy, so I asked Papa for it and he said yes” said Ellie, overflowing with happiness, then she started to tell Maria what Dina had taught her that day when she went to visit her house.

“If you are making that for dinner then why are you here? It’s getting late and you should start on dinner if you plan on getting your little rascal in bed at a reasonable hour” asked Tommy clarifying how they are always welcomed, “We came to ask for some butter please, Ellie ate all of ours this morning and it’s so late to go and get some for the house” explained Joel, looking towards Ellie and smiling at how easygoing the girl is.

“She sure has you wrapped around her little finger, you basically bend at her will. First, you're making some wings from scratch for her angel costume and now you are making an elaborate dinner just cause she asked” chuckled Tommy patting his big brother’s back but then going to his fridge to fetch the requested item.

“What wings Unca’ Tommy? Angel Knives don’t have wings, she has big claws like Wolverine!” demonstrated Ellie throwing her arms around as if she were attacking with her fake claws. "Baby girl, didn’t you say you wanted to dress like an angel for the party?” asked Joel looking directly at the girl, “Yeah Papa, wanna dress like Angel Knives. I already told you, so silly Papa” giggled Ellie continuing to throw punches and kicks at the air.

With a sigh Joel took the butter from Tommy and grabbed Ellie’s hand going toward the door, “You going already brother?” asked Tommy chuckling, “Yes, I need to make dinner and get this little one in bed as soon as possible. Tomorrow is going to be a long day of me making fake claws for Ellie” answered Joel waving a final goodbye to Maria and Tommy before walking back to his house with Ellie on tow.

Of course, Angel Knives made more sense than an actual angel, but this one was on Joel for not asking Ellie more questions, it was a big lesson to learn. Tommy was right, Ellie has him wrapped around her little finger just like Sarah did, maybe he was just meant to be a dotting ‘girl dad’ and give into their shenanigans.

Especially when he had a tiny voice come to him at night and tell him Wuv you Papa, before snuggling next to him, his baby girl was more of a demon than an angel but he wouldn’t have it any other way, just enjoying these little moments when it was just them and no infected or bad people existed in the world of the Miller family.

#chellesdump #age regression #sfw littlespace #tlou #ellie williams #joel miller #canon divergence #little! ellie #papa! joel #uncle tommy and aunt maria #my poor baby ellie just needs to be a little kid sometimes #being the choosen one to save society isn't easy #especially when the world is filled with zombies #ageretober #ageretober day 22

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non-un-topo · 7 months

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Some bits from my writing today, because I was motivated to return to a WIP and wrote over 3k!

#sage writes #yayyyyy i'm happy i did this instead of my schoolwork sdfghfds #i got some done this morning so it's fine #but what is this?? an au?? sort of hehe. canon-divergent au.#dw they're only this young for the first 2 chapters i think. and they're not 10k each like my usual chapter lengths lol #fic: summerwind #for my tagging later #i had another bit i thought about sharing where nicolo meets his baby brother because it was kind of funny and sweet #but the mental image of 5 year old nico throwing a newborn out of a tree was too good #also yusuf being a snarky 8 year old making his father laugh #MY BOOOOYYYSSSS

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bxdbxdboy · 9 months

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youtube

#play it again #bad boy #amity bee #my canon divergent baby!!#Youtube

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nieithryn · 16 days

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If I just throw the most basic info on this google site for my Jedi...I might just publish it so I feel Accomplished.

#not such a stranger (ooc)#(I have been trying to get this FINISHED this weekend and I just am running outta steam at the Jedi lol)#(To be fair there's also SO MANY of them)#(And my most canon divergent babies reside there)#(So I guess I've earned it)

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maybeiwasjustjade · 9 months

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With Violet Light

Snippet #1

She came to him again, as she always has. Forever a child, even when Merlin himself had grown older and older, until he himself had outgrown her.

She stared at him, unfathomable sincerity in her gleaming silver eyes. A sad smile still adorns her lips, a hand outstretched towards him.

In his dreams, Merlin is eight years old still.

Her question comes, the barest whisper of wind on his skin, “Will you bleed for him?”

Bonus

He didn't die, but he did take his first life.

It was less horrifying than he thought it would be, because Destiny might be a noose, but Merlin would readily choke himself on it if it meant being here, in Camelot, with Arthur smiling bright as a dream.

Merlin wasn’t the only sorcerer to ever love the Once and Future King.

#jadefics #merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #hopefully done soon fingers crossed #chapter 1 is mostly finished just gotta churn out the last bit #this fic is my baby #we’re gonna take a deep dive into Arthur’s childhood #his relationship with magic #and his first love #canon divergent au

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misty-wisp · 10 months

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ngl when it comes to villainizing or woobifying a character in your writing i think intent matters more than anything. like you can tell someone hates or loves the shit out of a character when they get them so ooc they act too...off, and that can be both in a way where they're unnecessarily cruel or evil for no apparent reason, and in a way where they're overly cutesy or soft or just...perfect, also for no apparent reason.

but sometimes people write characters in their fics ooc with the intent goal of that being the case, like in AUs and the like. sometimes you just wanna make your fave go insane, and other times you wanna redeem that fave. idk i just think there's a lot of nuance in some areas of fanon, though there are various cases of mischaracterization that are extremely annoying to me. i think the writer's intent affects whether a character's writing ends up 2 or 3 dimensional a lot.

#i plan to write a fic that paints aubrey in a pretty bad light but like. the point in it is that she's slowly losing it lmfao #it'll be like a character study. like what if i wrote her slightly to the left #canon divergence and all that #as opposed to me writing omori in yurushite in which he's trying to redeem himself #i mean he's failing but he's trying. he's not perfect #you could argue i 'woobify' him sometimes which. yea that's fair tbh lmao #i don't have any arguments against that i mean look at him he's a boo boo baby in my au as opposed to canon where he's. like That #idk this has just been on my mind a lot lately ehe #misty says things

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writing-good-vibes · 3 months

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another lonely valentine's day

💗 happy valentine's day !! 💗 what better way to celebrate than to make our favourite babygirl suffer? this takes place in an au where the accident never happened, and corey is still working towards his college dreams by mowing lawns, having affairs and babysitting.

WARNING for corey cunningham x roger allen relationship, age difference, infidelity, unhealthy relationship dynamics, smut (non-penetrative and oral sex), angst from a guy who is upset that his married boyfriend doesn't love him, some mildly stalkerish behaviour, and some arguable hurt/comfort. 4.5K word count.

🎀 very cute dividers by @/gigittamic 🎀

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (just let me know if you want to be added or removed !!)

"Corey?"

Corey sighs and checks the time. It had only been ten minutes since he put Jeremy to bed.

"Corey?!" Jeremy calls again, louder this time, his voice high and lifting at the end of his name. It grates on Corey's nerves.

"What is it now, Jeremy?"

"I'm thirsty!"

"You've just had a glass of milk."

"I want another one!"

They had a deal -- since Jeremy had gotten in so much trouble for his silly prank last Halloween and Corey had very generously done some self-serving damage control -- that Corey would let Jeremy do whatever he wanted (within some reason, as negotiable on the night, but usually involving too much energy for Corey's liking), and stay up as late as he wanted after he went to bed, in exchange for leaving Corey alone for the rest of the night. And if he didn't, Corey would tell Mr Allen just how much of a little shit Jeremy had been for him. It was a system that worked, even if it meant telling a couple of white lies about the evening's activities.

Jeremy was always a brat, it must have been coded directly into his DNA, but he'd been extra irritating before going to bed tonight. He tended to talk Corey's ear off anyway, asking personal questions that Corey would always lie in response to whether he strictly speaking needed to or not, and tonight he had extra ammunition.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Why not? It's because you're so ugly, isn't it."

"No, I just don't have one. I could if I wanted to."

"No you couldn't. Girls don't like boys who are ugly and poor. That's why you're bossing me around on Valentine's Day."

The back of Corey's neck itched. Sure, that's why he was spending his Valentine's Day babysitting the brattiest kid he'd ever met. Because no one wants to go out with him. Not because Jeremy's dad says "Jump," and Corey asks "How high?"

He shuts Jeremy up by letting him watch a playthrough on youtube of some horror videogame that one of Corey's friends back in high school would talk about nonstop. Turns out the game is way less scary when some hunk just talks over it, and although some of the music starts to freak him out a little, Corey surprises himself when he laughs along with Jeremy at most of the scares, even at the rabbit.

After traipsing back upstairs with another glass of milk, warm this time, Corey leaves Jeremy with a warning not to bother him again. Our deal, remember?

"What are you doing on Valentine's day?"

"Nothing," Corey replies, much too quickly. He can hear Mr Allen stifle a chuckle on the other end of the phone. Corey's cheeks burn, "Um, I mean, I don't have any plans, yet." Yet. As if they're lining up round the block to take Corey out and he just hasn't decided who's worth his time. "Why?"

"Well, Theresa and I were wondering if you'd be able to babysit Jeremy for a few hours?"

Corey bites his lips so hard he can taste blood. He soothes it with his tongue, "Sure, no problem." He kicks himself later for being such a sucker.

Mrs Allen is flustered when he arrives, putting the final touches of lipstick and perfume on while she explains the usual ground rules. Corey knows the drill. She looks beautiful, with her hair loose and curly around her shoulders and red flowers on her dress. He tries to imagine his own momma getting dressed up for a date, but he struggles to remember Momma and Ronald ever going anywhere without him. They hadn't even had a honeymoon.

Corey hovers awkwardly, trying to keep out of the way as Mrs Allen buzzes around, from the mirror to the coat stand by the door. While she puts her coat on, Corey's eyes wander as Mr Allen comes downstairs in a pressed suit. He waves at the older man, who gives him a wink that dangerously toes the line of 'friendly', before he disappears towards the kitchen.

"Oh!" Mrs Allen starts, before lowering her voice. "There's a box of chocolates in the kitchen for you, Corey. Roger put them on top of the fridge so Jeremy wouldn't see them; a little treat for you after he goes to bed."

Corey checks the time again. He hasn't heard a peep from Jeremy for a while, which is a good sign.

But the TV isn't holding his attention tonight like it normally does, and even though the Allens always tell him he can use their Netflix, he just can't settle on a movie.

Instead he scrolls through Roger's profile for a while, looking at his watch list and what he's been currently watching, what's been recommended to him and his most popular categories. Corey makes mental notes of where their tastes are similar and where they differ, thinks of how he can subtly integrate all of this into a conversation, to show just how interesting he is, how compatible they are.

His rumbling stomach puts an end to his media-stalking for now. Momma had made meatloaf for dinner, as grainy and bland as always, and Corey hadn't been able to stomach much of it. Not with the butterflies fluttering in his gut as he watched the clock, desperate to get out of the house a soon as possible tonight.

He lets a movie start playing, some 90's thriller than everyone in his American Lit. class used to rave about, before pulling himself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen.

The Allens' fridge is always fully stocked. Fruit and vegetables in the crisper, health foods that Corey's never even heard of before, branded candy and juice and condiments fill the door, cuts of meat that they probably actually knew how to cook instead of turning them to rubber or relying on boxes of lean cuisine. They even have an ice maker. There's a couple of bottles of Heineken -- because Roger only drinks Heineken in the house -- at the very front. It feels like a trick, Corey takes one anyway.

On top of the fridge, amongst juice boxes and tin that could be cookies but Corey guesses might be their sewing kit, is a red, heart-shaped box of chocolates. Just like Mrs Allen promised. Corey holds it in his hands, rubs his thumb against the satiny pink ribbon that wraps around it.

In middle school, Corey had gotten a Valentine's candygram one year. He walked into homeroom and found the pink paper heart and a cherry flavoured dumdum sat conspicuously on his desk.

There was a chorus of hushed giggles from behind him. Over his shoulder he sees Kelly and her friends, whispering. Whispering made Corey nervous. Then, Kelly waves at him shyly, a knowing smile on her face. He waved back, face burning.

He ate the lollipop over lunch, and folded the pink paper heart and put it in his pocket, carried it around with him all week. Sometimes he'd take it out to look at it, reading the message over and over and over again -- Be my Valentine?

Momma found the heart when she collected his laundry at the end of the week, emptying out his pockets onto the kitchen table, picking up the pink paper heart with her probing fingers.

Corey didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

There's a gift tag pre-attached at the bow on his Valentine's chocolates and Corey flips it open, expecting a list of the candies that are inside, but that isn't it. It's a message, handwritten in black biro in neat print-capitals. The words start to swim in Corey's vision, merging into an inky pool until he pushes his glasses up to wipe at his eyes, trying to hide his tears from an invisible audience. He isn't fooling anyone, because his lip starts wobbling instead.

He brings the candy back into the living room with him, along with his beer and sits criss-crossed on the couch, then rips the ribbon off in one go.

Corey sinks half the box before he can stop himself.

The rest he tries to savour, rolling each chocolate in his mouth, letting them melt on his tongue until he can figure out the flavoured centre while he watches his movie. The truffles are his favourites, then the pralines, followed by caramels, vanilla cream and pecan clusters, then finally the strawberry ones come last.

Between eating, he drinks his beer like a palate cleanser, finishing it only to go get the other bottle from the fridge. Two beers down, Corey can feel the buzz under his skin, in his tear-pink cheeks, and the relief of tension leaving his unsettled self.

If he takes the candy box home, Momma would ask too many questions that he didn't want to answer -- that he didn't even want to think about -- so he throws the empty tray in the trash can in the Allens' kitchen and chews a stick of bubblegum to cover the alcohol on his breath. It wasn't fool proof, but it was the most he could do.

Upstairs, Corey listens for movement from Jeremy's room. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lamps downstairs glowing up through the spiral of the staircase. Corey circles the warm light, never quite letting it catch him, as he dips into Jeremey's room to turn his TV off, then continues on to the master bedroom.

It's dark in there too, as Corey stands in the doorway. The bed is made neatly, sheets tucked cleanly under the mattress but rumpled in places where someone had sat down to pull on a stocking or tie a shoelace. He looks around familiarly, at the contemporary beige art on the walls and at the framed family pictures on the dresser, goes through the jackets and dresses that line the closet, and the messy draws full of almost designer sweaters and workout clothes and underwear. Mrs Allen's expensive lotion sits on the nightstand, next to where Corey always discards his glasses.

Laying in their bed, on Mr Allen's side, Corey looks up into the darkness. His cheeks are wet and getting wetter, and he rolls onto his front, muffles his sniffling in Mr Allen's pillow and breathing deeply the faint, shouldn't-be-comforting scent of the older man's cologne. Dark and woody, but classic in a way that compliments the rich floral perfume Corey always smells on Mrs Allen's pillow.

Part of him hopes Roger will know, hopes he'll feel the dampness there on his pillow while he tries to sleep, hopes he'll catch the taste of salt, and know exactly what he'd driven Corey to.

It's long-past midnight by the time Mr and Mrs Allen get home.

Corey hovers awkwardly by the door while Mrs Allen kicks out of her heels, hangs her coat on the stand, her conversation slower now as she thanks him again for babysitting. Corey preferred her like this, when she no longer had to worry about making their 7:30 reservation, or whether Jeremy was ready for bed before they left. When she isn't so tense, it made it a lot harder for Corey to interpret her tension as something else, something worse.

She counts his money out for him, but as he zips his coat up and prepares to cycle back home in the cold, Mr Allen stops him.

"Hold on, Corey, I'll give you a ride." The first words he'd spoken directly to Corey all night.

"Oh, no," Corey insists, hesitating anyway. "It's okay, really. I don't want to --"

"It's no trouble. We wouldn't want you out alone at this time. Unless you've got a secret black belt you haven't mentioned?"

Corey laughs, his real boyish laugh that Mr Allen likes so much.

Mrs Allen leans up, whispers something in her husbands ear, a perfectly French-manicured hand patting his chest once. Corey averts his eyes.

Then, Corey and Mr Allen are stood outside in the biting February air.

"Did you enjoy your night?" Corey asks as they pull out of the driveway. He rubs his cold hands together in his lap.

Roger turns the heater on high. "We did, thanks."

"What was the restaurant like?" He doesn't normally ask questions, doesn't normally like to know the answers, but he's feeling just a little vindictive tonight. Curious, too.

Roger catches his eye through the rear-view mirror. He smirks. "It was nice. We've been wanting to try it out for a while, actually. We don't go out as much as we should anymore."

"I just watched a movie," Corey says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Like it's how he was going to be spending his Valentine's day anyway. "One that my friends at college always recommend, but I never get time to watch movies. Momma -- my mom -- she's always so picky about movies." Corey can hear himself start to ramble, clutching at the straws of interest. "And Jeremy was okay tonight," he lies, then changes his mind. "Well, he said I don't have a girlfriend because I'm ugly. But he didn't get up after he went to bed."

Roger sighs, "Ignore him, you know what he's like. Theresa coddles him, but he's a little terror sometimes, same as any other boy. And besides, you know that's not true -- you're not ugly." His hand leaves the wheel and lands on Corey's thigh.

The younger man hums, suppresses how utterly pleased he feels at being told that. You're not ugly, and god if Corey won't be thinking about that for who-knows how long. He doesn't say anything when Roger takes a right turn, heading for the long route back to Corey's side of town.

A stupid, sappy old love song comes on the radio. Corey reaches out to change the channel, settling on WURG, where Willy the Kid is hosting the Anti-Valentines show till late. Heartbroken love songs for all those unlucky enough to be without action tonight.

"You liked the chocolates?" Roger says. It ends in a question mark, but Corey hears a period.

"Yeah, I ate the whole box." He did like them. They were perfect and thoughtful and he's so very, very grateful because he shouldn't expect anything at all.

They pull into the empty lot of the Dollar General and Roger turns the car off, letting the sudden silence -- the stillness of the night -- settle over them. A distant streetlight casts a sickly orange light into the car, the light and shadows chiselling Roger's features deeper, more stern. Corey chews his lip until he tastes blood.

Still, it's Corey's hands that wander first. Because he's been so lonely, waiting all night long for Roger's attention. Looking after Roger's son and drinking Roger's beer and eating Roger's cheap Valentine's present, while Roger was at an expensive restaurant, eating his $80 steak, with his wife who deserves so much better. Corey doesn't though.

And Roger, not for the first time, thinks What the fuck am I doing? when his lips meet Corey's through the darkness. The younger man tastes of bubblegum and beer, but beneath that he can taste those damn chocolates. The taste suits him; sweet and boyish, a little bit cheap.

Any lingering thoughts of Theresa, of how it shouldn't take more than half an hour to drive to Corey's house and back, of how she's waiting for him with a promise -- whispered in his ear as he picked his car keys up off the the table by the door -- are quickly replaced with thoughts of them getting caught, of one of Haddonfield's finest driving by and seeing them, of a sharp tap on the window that makes Corey look up, mouth open and eyes wide and looking every bit the pretty boy he is, of talking their way out of a night in the cells for public indecency because This isn't what it looks like Officer, I swear!

And then Corey's pulling away, twisting himself around in the passenger seat so he can lean down, and Roger can't really make himself think of anything else but the way Corey is so obliging. Undoing Roger's belt, his fly, Corey pulls the older man's boxers down low enough to free his cock, slapping heavy against his toned stomach; Corey presses a wet, pouty kiss to his tip. "I missed you."

"You did?"

Corey nods, wrapping his hand around Roger's length, his fingertips just about touching. "So fucking much."

Another kiss, kittenish licks, Corey's soft hand stroking him slowly, working him like Roger isn't already rock hard for him. Roger closes his eyes, lets himself enjoy Corey's ministrations, learnt precisely by what Roger -- and Roger alone -- likes. They shouldn't be taking their time, however Roger is downright incapable of stopping Corey's hand as it smears his own precum down his shaft, slicking the younger man's movements, but not enough to take away the hint of hot and heavy friction that keeps Roger on the edge.

"I'll make it up to you, hm?" Roger manages, and Corey finally goes down on him, mouth wet and warm and always welcoming, as if to say, Go ahead.

With a sharp inhale, Roger starts, "I'll take you out somewhere. Somewhere nice. I know a restaurant that you'll love, where they do the best desserts you've ever had in your life. You'd like that, right?"

Corey hums in agreement; the vibration makes Roger throb even harder, pulsing against the soft roof of his mouth.

Roger always sounds so sure of his words, so assertive in his thoughts. It makes Corey believe him all the more, makes him want to nod and agree to whatever it is Roger tells him he thinks. Like how he always says Corey was such a tease, all those weekends he'd take his shirt off to mow the lawn, skin glistening with sweat right where Roger could see him. And how Corey had known exactly what he was doing with his wide-eyed virgin routine, as though Roger could have ever said no to him. And that Corey's so easy, so eager, so desperate. That Corey will always say yes.

"Or we could go to a bar. Shoot some pool, have some beers, catch the game. We could have a boys night." He grabs Corey's hair, applying a pressure that is more a suggestion -- more, deeper, please -- than a command.

"And then back to the hotel. Somewhere we can get room service, of course, I know you love that. And I'll take such good care of you. You know that, don't you, baby?"

Roger's getting close and he knows it, especially when Corey swallows, his throat tight and hot and clenching around Roger's cock and he's almost --

He pulls Corey off him, a thin trail of saliva dripping from his plush lip to Roger's spit-shiny head, and watches as the younger man wipes the rest of the drool from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I think you feel guilty," Corey says, voice level and surprisingly measured. There's no elaboration on what Roger should be feeling guilty about, just Corey's wide eyes and swollen lips, and Roger's left to fill in the blank space that Corey leaves behind.

Guilty about making me babysit. Guilty about driving me home. Guilty about doing this with me and then going home to sleep with your wife too.

The list goes on and on and on, and Roger tightens his grip in Corey's hair while he thinks, feeling the smooth, waxy strands twisted between his fingers. Corey will fuss over it in the rear-view mirror on the way home, combing his own fingers through those locks, back into his neat side-part, and Roger will watch him for too long, wishing he could see Corey's hair in it's full glory, not just sex-mused but his natural, bouncing cherub curls, more often.

Roger's hand is still in Corey's hair but he doesn't move, just waits to be told what to do.

"Get in the back."

It's only marginally less cramped in the back seat and darker still, the warm orange glow of the streetlight even fainter as Roger pulls Corey into his lap, lets him burrow into his neck while Roger slips a hand between his legs, palms the growing bulge over rough denim. Corey keens into it eagerly, legs twitching as he tries to keep himself from clamping his thighs around Roger's hand and humping it.

When his whines get louder, a strong hand grabs the back of Corey's knee, moving him to straddle Roger's trim hips, makes sure he's settled before teasing the zipper of Corey's jeans down, once again feeling that hard swell in his underwear.

There's a growing damp patch on the white cotton, sticking it to the leaking pink head of Corey's cock. Roger thumbs the wetness, smearing it through the fabric over Corey's burning skin, and Corey doesn't want to wait. He desperately pulls at the elastic of his briefs, pulls them down and hisses with relief when his dick springs free, resting against the pudge on his lower stomach, leaving a streak of precum on his auburnish happy trail.

Roger clasps one large hand around the both of them and Corey moans like it hurts; he grips tight, squeezing just right to press at the sensitive spot beneath his tip every time Corey's length slides against his.

Corey bucks in Roger's grasp, enough that Roger doesn't even have to stroke them anymore, just holds them still and grinds up against Corey's needy frotting. The developing rhythm is less co-ordinated than Corey can usually manage when he's on top, but the newness of the sensation, the way he can never quiet repeat the same motion or hit the same spot twice is maddening.

With all their clothes still on though, it's almost like it was back then, back when the most they did was dry hump on the couch while a football game played forgotten in the background. And it's not fair, Corey thinks. This is it? This is all he gets?

Roger once told him, "More is just never enough for you, is it, baby?", and although Corey had been kind of preoccupied at the time, the thought had burrowed it's way into his mind, repeated on a loop in Roger's low voice while Corey twiddled his thumbs in class the next day. Momma always told him something similar, when she'd decide he was being ungrateful over something or nothing -- it was always nothing -- that she didn't know what more Corey could want. A roof over his head, food on the table, his mother's love, always. Did he not already have enough? What more could Corey want? Boxed chocolates, empty promises and messy back-seat fumblings.

Roger is proven right. It's Valentine's day and Corey wants more.

"That's it, good boy. Feels good doesn't it?"

As Roger's hand slips further down the back of Corey's jeans, beneath his underwear, Corey catches his wrist, slowing the movement of his hips but not pausing, and tries to direct Roger's fingers closer to where he wants them.

Roger pulls back, resumes simply palming Corey's peachy ass. "Not tonight," he says firmly, and Corey makes a dissatisfied noise against the crisp white cotton of Roger's shirt.

"Please?"

Roger chuckles, "No, Corey." Still firm, but letting Corey down gently. "I know you want to play, but we can't. Not tonight."

"But I really want to, really badly," Corey pleads, scattering kisses up Roger's neck. It's not often Corey has to do the convincing. Rutting harder to prove his point, leaning back so Roger can see that playful little smile on his lips that always get him going, "And it's Valenti --"

"Corey," and it's a warning this time, given in a tone that Corey's never heard Roger use on him before. It's a tone he'd heard him use with Jeremy, though.

Corey shuts his mouth instantly, which is what he's always done best, and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. The way his skin itches makes him want to scream.

After being told off, he can't bring himself to look back at Roger's disappointed face, so Corey looks down at their cocks instead, both wet with spit and precum, which is somehow less awkward. The spark in his gut rekindles slightly at the sight of Roger's dick, smaller than his by less than a half inch but big enough to knock the breath out of him, rubbing against his own.

Roger's hand has resumed stroking them together -- quickly, efficiently, like he's doing them both a favour.

A loud squeak breaks through the near-silence when Corey reaches out to brace himself against the window, his hand slipping in the condensation made up mostly of his own panting breaths. Another time, perhaps, it would have made him laugh, and his breathy laugh would have made Roger laugh and then --

Roger comes hard in his hand because he really can't let his shirt get dirty, and Corey follows with a shuddering groan, a half-word that could have been anything -- Fuck, Roger, Sorry -- warbles out with it.

"It's okay," Roger answers. "You're okay."

Corey licks Roger's hand clean, sucking the mess from his fingers. Tongue working between each digit till they're soaking wet. Tentative, playful nips at fingertips, biting just barely at his knuckles, never hard enough to leave a mark. No evidence gets left behind.

Feeling each ridge of Corey's teeth, Roger remembers the look on Corey's face from earlier, how his cheeks burned and he shrunk in on himself, making himself small and docile. If Corey bit down hard right now, sinking straight to the bone, then Roger would probably deserve it.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Corey whispers, lips brushing Roger's wet fingertips. Even in the quiet of the car, Corey's voice is smaller than it deserves to be. His big, brown eyes are glazy when they meet Roger's cold blues.

Roger stays quiet, feeling the warmth of Corey's heavy breath between them. In, out, in, out. He holds Corey's flushed face in his wet hand, strokes his thumb softly against his cheek, feels the barely-there stubble under his palm, watches Corey's eyes flutter shut, his lip twitch with the hint of a smile, his brow crease, fat teardrops well under his lashes until they spill down his cheeks.

"Let's get you home, hm?"

Mr Allen drops him off right outside his house -- "You're coming to do the gardening tomorrow, right?" -- and watches as Corey climbs out of the car and up the front porch steps. Joan lurks at the window, the curtains twitching closed once Corey gets to the door.

With one hand on the door handle, Corey turns to wave. Mr Allen is mostly shadowed in the driver's seat, but Corey half-smiles at him anyway, still looking even as Momma pulls him into the house by his scruff for being home so late.

As Corey lies in his bed, he stares up at the darkness of the ceiling. Or maybe his eyes are just closed because his fingers, slippery with the lotion from his nightstand, are shoved down his underwear. The gift tag from his chocolates -- For my Good Boy, ❤ R -- burns a hole beneath his pillow.

#corey cunningham x roger allen #💗💌 corey's love letters 💌💗#corey cunningham #i am a sweet tooth corey truther #corey baby that married man doesnt love you !!!!!!!#and they're such a cliche 🙄 fooling around with the babysitter ?? derivative #but i will never give corey a break #and thats a bona fide anna promise 😎#canon divergence my beloved !! they need more time together to make each other worse and ruin their lives even harder #some bonuses for the dedicated readers who also read my tags:#the game playthrough corey and jeremy watch is for f/naf #corey defo had a f/naf stan friend at school who would explain all the lore as it happened. like early days f/naf #corey watched his friend go through the trenches of the 1 - 4 timeline #the 90s movie that corey watches is the tal/ented mr rip/ley #the chocolates are russell stover. i added the pink bow though because 🎀aesthetic🎀#you know that gif of jude law in Wilde 1997 ?? yeah that one.#cunningallen

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universestreasures · 3 months

Text

Random Assortment of Hedcanons for Mokuba and some of his Friend Squad

Mokuba (TW For HC 1 and 2: Mental Health / PTSD, TW For HC 8: Mention of Death.)

Mokuba's was referred to his current therapist, Child Psychiatrist Dr. Ai Fujita (A NPC created by me for my Mokuba/his friend's lore specifically), by Tasuku after their initial meeting post-Death-T. She currently practices in Cho-Tokyo, home of Tasuku's sector of the Buddy Police, and has worked closely with the children of those affected by the crimes the Buddy Police handles for years. Mokuba started to attend therapy regularly (weekly to start, but this was reduced down to monthly by the time he is a teenager) following Battle City (Such as the period of time my confrontation thread with @shacchou takes place in) and does so via Telehealth.

Dr. Fujita officially diagnosed Mokuba with PTSD upon official assessment and intake procedures completion. He was not prescribed any medication. However, she recommends for him to consider having a trained service animal such as a cat or a dog to help him with his PTSD-induced nightmares and other symptoms.

Mokuba learns how to play Buddyfight from Gao and the others and plays a Dragon World deck to start, focusing on Armordragons much like Gao and Tasuku. Though, he would switch over to Star Dragon World once that becomes more widespread, using a Neodragon Crossnize deck like Tasuku's.

He plays dragon-themed decks for Duel Monsters, inspired by his brother's own deck. His fav card to use is Kidmodo Dragon.

Mokuba's traveled to some of the Buddyfight parallel worlds either through his friends or a field trip after he started attending Aibo Academy. He loved Hero World the most.

I like to think the 'Kaibaman' Duel Monsters card was something Mokuba came up with, because his big brother is his hero. So naturally, it would make to visualize him as a super hero and make a card based off the idea. I can totally see him make some sort of agreement with Industrial Illusions without his brother knowing and then presenting it to him as a gift (Perhaps a birthday gift).

In relation to his friend squad, Mokuba is the most similar to Gao and finds him very inspiring, he trusts Tasuku the most and unconsciously sees him as another older brother figure in his life, and is the closest to Suzuha and hangs out with her the most.

In the distant future, when Gao and his eventual partner Paruko get married and eventually have their two children (Yuga and Haru), Mokuba 100% is their unofficial uncle (Much like Tasuku is) and spoils those two kids rotten. And considering Yuga is a video content creator/streamer who loves taking on game challenges with a pretty big following (and being the son of Buddyfight's current World Champion, aka Gao), I can see him being the perfect person to collaborate and market some of Kaiba Corp's products, especially those targeted at children.

Mokuba visits his birth parent's graves once a year. He asks Seto to join him, but does not expect him to. He always brings flowers and 'talks to them' about how he's been.

Mokuba does make friends with pretty much all of Gao's friends at some point. Though, he is closest still to Gao, Tasuku, and Suzuha out of anyone. He would 100% make them a locket similar to his and his brothers, but with a Buddyfight card design and a group photo of them inside, perhaps as a graduation gift. He'd wear his in addition to his and Seto's.

As stated in a previous post, Mokuba's orientation is demi. He does not get attracted to anyone romantically until he forms a strong emotional bond with someone. In addition, his playful antics some people (like at school) mistake it for flirting, and as such, he has a lot of admirers and gets notes in his locker all the time (especially around Valentine's Day)

Gao & His Three Buddies (Drum, Bal, & Batzz)

Gao's initial Buddy Monster is Drum Bunker Dragon, and he met Drum during the time period of Battle City. However, he eventually comes into contact with Bal and Batzz (his other two Buddy monsters he meets in canon), and eventually, signs Buddy Contracts with all three of them. So, he has three Buddy Monsters (Plus Chibi Panda as he is a plus one for Batzz) living and fighting alongside him throughout his life (Drum nor Bal leave Gao like they do in canon).

Of Gao's three buddies, Mokuba gets along with Bal the most. Bal adores Mokuba. They become total besties, much to Gao's delight. Bal sometimes even asks to sleep over at Mokuba's house or vise versa (Good luck Seto having a literal baby dragon in your house LMFAO). Very wholesome bond. They would 100% try to make pizza (Bal's fav food) and probably make a huge mess cause both cannot cook to save their life. He also has let Mokuba fight alongside him and use his Sundragons for fun, and Gao supports this.

Gao, much like in canon, takes place in the WBC (World Buddy Cup) tournament and takes the crown, becoming the number one Buddyfighter in the entire world. He holds this title even into his adult world. He also competes in other tournaments such as the ABC Cup like he does in canon as well, but I am still figuring out all of the canon events that apply to this verse.

As stated above, Gao does marry Paruko in this verse and have his two sons, Yuga and Haru. Yuga was born when Gao was 23, as per canon. However, he does not move to America to teach his family's style of martial arts. He grows the style right here in Japan while his mother and the other family members grow it in the West, meaning he has a much more active role in the lives of his kids and his friends. This also means he does not move to America like he does in canon, but he does visit there from time to time.

Gao would 100% volunteer to test any new Kaiba Corp products. He may be a Buddyfighter, but he is always up for a fun challenge. He'd also expand his self-defense teachings to the company, should they request his aid.

Gao invites Mokuba over for sleepovers sometimes, and his family invites both Mokuba AND Seto over for dinner. They're just that kind of family.

Gao would vibe so well with Jounouchi and would totally try to teach him how to amp up his physical combat skills using his Akijijitsu martial arts.

Gao and Mokuba got a secret handshake and it's the cutest thing ever.

He shares his brother's Mighty Sun Fighter comics with Mokuba, and that becomes a nice bonding thing for them. Mokuba would tell his brother all about the comic's stories. Perhaps seeing that could inspire the image of 'Kaibaman' that I discussed earlier.

Gao thinks Seto is as cool as Mokuba says he is, and really admires his strength as a duelist.

As stated in a previous post, Gao's orientation is pan. His romantic attraction is not defined by someone's sex or gender. However, he is pretty dense overall when it comes to romance and misses romantic cues often.

Tasuku & Jack (TW For HC 11: Mental Health / PTSD /Mention of Death.)

Of the friend group, Tasuku and Jack more often play the role of dad friends than anything else. They're more than often the responsible ones and the ones first to defend the group if needed.

Much like in canon, Tasuku when he grows up does take over for Commander I as the official head of the Buddy Police in Cho-Tokyo (His title is officially Commissioner). He is working not in the field much anymore, but rather oversees overall operations, training and development. He is put onto very huge and potentially dangerous cases however, such as anything on a large scale.

Tasuku regularly checks in on Mokuba, as he does with everyone he's close to. He wants to make sure the kids doing alright, and offers his aid if needed.

I do not think he will fully 100% ever like Seto Kaiba (and I'm pretty sure that feeling would be mutual on Seto's part. But then again, tons of people got issues with Seto let's be real, LOL), but I do think he will come to a somewhat of an understanding about him (Especially by the time he's a teenager/young adult) and will work with him if needed. I like to think he does respect though, if nothing else, his strength as a duelist, work ethic, determination to reach his goals, love for Mokuba (once he understands how he shows that love), and his noble reasons for opening Kaibalands around the world. He thinks he'd be a good Buddyfighter too if he ever tried out the game, specifically as a user of Ancient World or Star Dragon World.

Tasuku does train in Dragon World much like in canon and passes his training with Armor Diety Dynamis. Though, the contents of that trial are still up in the air as I am debating whether or not Tasuku becoming Purgatory Knight is a thing in this verse or not. It's such an important part of Tasuku's character arc in general (Like how Death-T and it's aftermath is for so many of the YGO cast), but getting to that point would require a lot of circumstances I do not know how to fit into this verse well (getting forcibly fired by the buddy police, the buddy police being corrupted, being manipulated, a grand event to make him use gold ritter and team up with Demios, etc. It's why I have yet to include it in any au that's not canon adjacent. It's so hard to set up.). I am open to trying to plot a way to include it, as Purgatory Knight Tasuku is always interesting to write. (It would break Mokuba's heart though ;;;;). He, following that completion of his training, will obtain Star Dragon World and Jack will change into a Neodragon. It an also not sure if Jack will get his time jump abilities he gets with this upgrade either like he has in canon, but it be interesting to play with as it lets him and others time travel basically.

Jack, much like in canon, eventually becomes so recognized by the public as Tasuku's Buddy he doesn't need to hide himself in his card form. Though, he prefers his big form to his mini form still, but is seen in his mini form most often.

Once Buddyfight becomes more mainstream, the Buddy Police becomes much like it is in canon, focusing both on stopping game-related crimes (9/10 at this point it is Buddyfight related) in addition to handling the Buddy Monster contract system and distribution of Core Deck Cases through the Buddy Card Office.

Tasuku (and Mokuba too for that matter) are allowed certain days during the school week where they can come in half day due to their work circumstances. Tasuku and Jack will personally pick up Mokuba from HQ and take him to school. They also will take him to his home if asked.

Jack (and this goes for other Buddy Monsters too) are able to see Duel Monsters spirits and communicate with them.

Mokuba invites Tasuku to the opening ceremony of Kaibaland, and Tasuku is touched by the sentiment.

Much like in his canon verse, my Tasuku has little to no memories of his life prior to losing his parents. This is because of him unintentionally repressing them as a PTSD response (Yes, he is also diagnosed with PTSD and was diagnosed by Dr. Fujita). It is something, once he realizes it, regrets because while he is looking to the future, he wishes he could remember more about his parents, especially after hearing Mokuba talk about how much he misses his own parents.

As stated in a previous post, Tasuku's orientation is demi. He does not get attracted to anyone romantically until he forms a strong emotional bond with someone. Much like Mokuba, he is very popular in school and has a ton of people crushing on him. He is polite about it, but can get overwhelmed. He is not actively persuing a partner, though.

#💎 Vice Treasure (Mokuba Kaiba)#💎 Sun Treasure (Gao Mikado)#💎 NPC: Sun's Drilling First Buddy (Drum Bunker Dragon)#💎 NPC: Sun's Baby Second Buddy (Bal Dragon)#💎 NPC: Sun’s Thundering Third Buddy (Demon Lord Dragon Batzz)#💎 NPC: Sun's Third Buddy's Plus One (Chibi Panda)#💎 Wonder Treasure (Tasuku Ryuenji)#💎 NPC: Wonder's Faithful Buddy (Jackknife Dragon)#💎 Vice's Glimmers And Glitz (Mokuba Headcanons)#💎 Sun's Glimmers And Glitz (Gao Headcanons)#💎 Wonder's Glimmers And Glitz (Tasuku Headcanons)#💎 Sun's Game Of Life (Gao Yu-Gi-Oh! DM Verse)#💎 Wonder's Game Of Life (Tasuku Yu-Gi-Oh! DM Verse)#tw long post #tw ptsd #tw mention of death #tw mental health #(Brain said no energy for drafts but I somehow got this mountain of HCS out for mokie and the boys #(including some stuff ive wanted to talk about like Mokie's therapist or how I'm handling Gao's buddies #(I like that i'm taking some canon divergences here while also keeping core things when it comes to my BF muses #(since for example i love gao having 3 buddies and want to keep that lineup like he had for allstars #(and i think these choices fit for the story more #(but yeah i hope these hcs give you all some plotting ideas or just general insight #(feel free to reach out if you'd like to know more or have an idea based off these!

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