#why do my siblings get on my nerves by just existing

[klemen-tine]

Glass Bones and Paper Skin Part 3

Platonic! Bruce x Model! GN! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Hint at suicide, Body Issues, Eating problems (not a disorder), Child Neglect, stalking, Partner Abuse

Part 1

Part 2

@problematicreblogger and @wpdarlingpan Since you guys wanted to be tagged lol

+++++++++++++

Y/N sat in the bathtub in the guest room. It’s been three days since they arrived, saw the photos, and the creepy trophy room. Three days since their conversation with Dick, finding out that they had all been on their terrace and taking photos of them. Stalking them. 

They wrapped their arms tighter around their legs, resting their chin on sharp knees and staring at the porcelain tiles and gold facet. Three days of walking on egg shells, somehow managing to evade most attempts in hanging out with the siblings and Bruce, and only really seeing them at meals. Y/N hasn’t built up the nerve to ask about the trophy room, but Y/N knows that everyone in the house knows that Y/N knows of the two rooms. They know of the photos, the ones taken without their permission or knowledge, and the clothes that have redefined their modeling career. 

Sighing, Y/N stared at their pruning hands and the now cool water. The bubbles dissolved a long time ago and the essential oils had become diluted enough that the scents no longer permeated the air. 

Finally dressed in a robe, lotion and oil on their skin and face and teeth washed, Y/N exited the bathroom and screamed at the sight of Jason on their bed. In the midst of their panic they threw the brush at the larger man, who caught it skillfully. 

“Wha-what is wrong with you? No-wait, why are you in my room?” Y/N walked around the large bed to where all their clothes are kept. Their eyes not leaving Jason’s imposing figure that was currently resting on their bed. 

“I knocked.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “I didn’t ask if you knocked, why are you in my room?” Jason shrugged, “Just felt like I haven’t talked to you in a bit.” Jason and Y/N’s relationship was like that of dragons in the old ages. Full of history and non-existent. 

Jason was already dead by the time Y/N had entered the Manor. A small body buried in the Wayne gravesite. In hindsight, Y/N’s timing had been awful. Moving in when Tim basically forced Batman to take him in as a Robin, Dick’s and Bruce’s relationship had worsened, Jason was dead for about a year, and Alfred had still been grieving. Truly a terrible time to join a family. Y/N could taste the tension when they had first moved in, and they understood immediately that they were just another unneeded burden. 

A 13-year-old Y/N cried in their bathroom, mourning their mother who had loved the fame more than them, the friends that loved Y/N for Y/N, and the life on the West Coast that they were now expected to continue on the East Coast. 

The unfairness of it all. 

“What do you want to talk about?” Y/N asked, rummaging through the drawers and finding a nice shirt and some nice jeans. 

“Hmm, oh you know, the casual how are you doing? How’s the model-life? Any fun stories you have? What have you been doing lately?” Y/N started changing in the bathroom, keeping the door cracked so they could hear the questions. 

When Y/N reemerged, now fully dressed and the robe hanging on the back of the door, they smiled at Jason, “I’m doing good, kind of tired but that's to be expected because of the ‘model-life.’ The fun stories I have are more of traveling around the world and seeing different cultures and eating good food. 

“As of late, I’ve been thinking about getting a cat.” Jason’s brow raised, “You travel though.” Y/N nodded, “Yeah, some models travel with their pets and I think that's what I plan to do. They’re easier to travel with than a dog, and I don’t think a dog would like my condo.” Jason nodded, “You could always leave it here. The little spawn would take care of it.” 

“I can’t do that to the family. It’s my pet and should be my responsibility.” Jason hummed, “Is it because you don’t want to visit?” The air stilled and blue eyes met E/C. Jason didn’t look bothered, if anything he seemed relaxed about the whole thing, “It’s fine if that's the reason. I hate being here too.” 

Jason came back as a dead person Y/N knew not to talk about. From the stairways, they would watch Jason storm out after a bad argument with Bruce. Unable to completely understand what exactly was going on, but from the hushed conversations they knew it was something they didn’t want to know about. 

“I don’t hate being here, I just don’t have reason to visit other than Alfred.” Jason continued to stare at them, “Not even for ‘family.’” 

“Jason, when have you ever looked at me and saw a sibling?” Jason didn’t banter with Y/N, never showed interest or any inclination that Y/N even existed. Y/N is pretty sure that to Jason, Y/N is just a stranger living in the manor. 

Y/N wonders if they will see Jason’s temper. Will it appear like the monster hidden in the closet, waiting for the right time to lash out at anything? Y/N has heard the screaming matches, the threats, the holes in the walls from Jason. For someone who has killed people, Y/N wonders if they should really be mucking around with Jason. 

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that had other priorities. Once upon a time, Jason was the youngest and loved by Bruce, but then younger Robins came. Jason died, and while never replaced, Robin was. 

When Y/N looks at Jason, they see the middle child of a family that Y/N is not a part of. 

They are not siblings. Not cousins, relatives, they are not even friends. Barely acquaintances if Y/N is honest. Which is fine. Y/N has gotten over the hurt and feelings of loneliness. 

It is just Y/N against the world, with Alfred partially in their corner. Not fully. Never fully because Alfred will always be in the Wayne family’s corner, and Y/N is not a Wayne. 

Jason sighed, “Mmm, I guess that night when you took a beating from that one dude for not getting in the car.” Y/N paused in brushing their hair, mind reeling and slowly turning their head to look at Jason who was instead picking at his nails. Y/N opened their mouth, but Jason beat them to it, “You went out partying, like almost every high schooler does, and your boyfriend was drunk.” 

“Just get in the car, Y/N!” 

“No! You’re drunk and you said you’d stay sober!” 

“I am sober, now get in the fucking car!” 

“Fuck off!” A 15-year-old Y/N stormed off, turning their back to Marcus Dueller, the then jock of the school. A rough hand grabbed their shoulder and a fist met their face, “You don’t talk to me like that.” 

“...Marcus wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jason didn’t show any signs of hearing Y/N, “You took a pretty bad beating, I’ll admit it. I was going to step in once he started choking you, but you took that brick to his head pretty hard.” 

Blood splattered across Y/N’s face as Marcus collapsed. The hands around their neck loosening and Y/N took deeply needed gasps of air. Their throat aching and lungs burning as they rolled over onto their hands and knees. Tears pricked their eyes as the pain and realization settled in. 

“I called his friends. He was fine, just a concussion.” Marcus and Y/N never talked again, and Marcus’s friends took one look at the bruises on Y/N’s face and neck to understand what had happened. 

They all stayed Marcus’s friends, because unlike Y/N, Marcus was loved by his family. 

“Then, you walked your beaten ass towards the liquor store.” 

“Oh my God! Y/N!” Stacey cried out in shock, and she gently cupped bruised cheeks and watched split lips grow into a smile. 

“Can I have that bottom shelf vodka please?” 

“Bitch, you need a second shelf from the bottom vodka.” They sat outside of the store, Stacey’s partner taking over the counter as she watched Y/N take swig after swig from the bottle. Her concerned eyes tracing over each and every bruise and cut, down to the clothes they were wearing and scrapes in their knees and hands. 

“How many does this make?” 

“Seven. Whoever said seven was a lucky number is a liar.” 

“Oh Y/N, why do you keep doing this?” Y/N gave Stacey the most beautiful they could muster. Not minding the ache in their cheeks or the burning of alcohol on split lips. 

Looking back at it, perhaps Y/N was on a downward spiral. Trying to find love in other people that weren’t the people at home. From ages 13 to 15, Y/N had dated over 9 people. Not one of them made it past two months, and none of them were healthy. 

Once Y/N got into modeling, all their attention went into it. Dating and friends were on a standstill as their career and education became a priority. Maybe that was another thing Y/N inherited from Bruce, a known serial dater. Although, Y/N knows for sure that their taste in partners was definitely inherited from their mother. 

Some of Y/N’s earliest memories are of M/N getting berated and smacked around by men bigger than her. When they would leave, Y/N would emerge with bandaids and tears on their face. M/N would smile at them, blood from her nose painting her lips red and she would cup soft cheeks and whisper in their ears- 

“Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Y/N glared at Jason, who was meeting that glare head on. Now that they are older, Y/N has learned to hate that phrase. They have watched numerous models be in kind and gentle hands and still be beautiful. Still have a loving and healthy relationship with themselves and the other. 

Now that they are older, Y/N knows how untrue those words are. Yet, who said those words had to only be applied to romantic partners? 

“Now here you are, in your glass castle imitating diamonds.” Y/N’s nose scrunched, “Always the poet, reading the classics.” Jason shrugged, "Someone has to be literate in this messed up family. Sure as hell ain’t Bruce.” Y/N rolled their eyes, “So what? That still does not explain anything. More importantly, why now then?” Why was it now that they decided to make a move if they had supposedly been caring for a while now. 

Jason smirked, "Because finally, Bruce sees it too.” Y/N narrowed their eyes and watched with pursed lips as the bigger and stronger man got up from the bed, and walked over to them, “I’d wear comfortable shoes, Y/N. You’re going out with Bruce and the little spawn today.” 

“Wait, what do you mean Bruce finally sees it too? What is there to see?” Jason smiled at him, and it looked more of a monster preening at it’s prey. Callused hands reached up and traced the small, almost invisible scar on Y/N’s upper lip. 

“Make sure you smile, the vultures will be there too.” 

++++

“I do think green will look best on you.” Y/N smiled at Damian, “Green looks good everybody, Damian. You just need the right shade.” Between them was an emerald green silk shirt, the price displayed like a bounty and Y/N wanted to walk out of the store once they saw it. Yes, they made a lot of money, but Y/N also knows what it means to be frugal. 

Damian raised an eyebrow and continued to judge the piece as if it had insulted the family. Y/N set the shirt down and continued to peruse the aisles. Their eyes looking at all the clothing and trying to predict what will be in style. What could they use to match or create their own trend? It is still winter, meaning layers will still be necessary but how to make a stylish outfit when there needs to be layers. 

“Do you see anything you want, Y/N?” They jumped a bit, and whirled around to see Bruce smiling at them. Those blue eyes, intense like winter rivers, roamed over what Y/N was looking at and he raised a well groomed eyebrow, “Do you want that one?” 

“N-no, no thank you. I’m just looking.” Bruce hummed, and wrapped a large arm around Y/N’s bony shoulders and brought them close. He pressed his lips against his temple, an unusual act of affection towards his kids but everyone will chalk it up to Y/N being a model and still young. Bruce whispered against Y/N’s skin, “Just let me know what you want, and I will get it for you.” 

‘If I want to be left alone?’ Y/N didn’t voice it, but they didn’t have too. Bruce’s grin was sharp, “Within reason, Y/N.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine and they swallowed down the bile threatening to come up. 

“I have money, Bruce. I can buy my own stuff.” Bruce picked up a shirt, “Let me spoil you. It is what parents do.” 

“You already paid off my condo, that is good enough.” Bruce continued to smile, “That was for the birthdays and holidays I missed while you were with us. I still have to make up for the time when you were with your mother.”  Y/N wanted to scream, “How about you donate that then?” 

Bruce smiled, “I already do. Let me spoil you.” He kissed Y/N’s temple once more before walking away, eyeing everything the way designers did when critiquing their pieces. Y/N had a feeling that if they didn’t get something from here, the store would be paying the price. Grabbing a sheer halter top and pair of black high waisted pants, Y/N let Damian throw the green top on the small pile and made their way to the check out. The cashier smiled nervously as the Wayne family stood in front of her. 

True to Bruce’s promise, he paid for the three articles of clothes, the pair of shoes, the jewelry, the accessories, the–

“I think that is enough.There are a lot of bags, and while I appreciate it, I really don’t need anymore stuff.” Y/N placated Bruce and Damian, already picturing the amount of trips it will be to take everything back home. The man seemed satisfied though, smiling and shrugging his shoulders, “If you insist. How about some lunch now?” 

Y/N wanted to decline. They wanted to go back to the manor and get away from everybody. The feeling of walking on eggshells and constantly being watched had their skin crawling and the need to take another bath. Bruce wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulder and brought them close, and Damian took up their other side. 

“You’re acting more as a bodyguard than a father it seems.” Bruce smiled, “We’re having a nice family outing. I’d hate it if one of your ‘followers’ interrupted." Y/N furrowed their brow, but they could not stop their body from tensing, “Someone is following us?” 

“Unfortunately.” The photos they saw in their old room re-emerged and a feeling of dread seized their muscles, making them lean further into Bruce. Yes, they were once all Robins, but not once in those photos taken from their terrace was there ever a reflection of the Bat. 

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll make sure they won’t take any of you.” 

“How… how do you know its not you they want a photo of?” Bruce smiled, guiding them into a fancy restaurant, Damian requesting a table away from the windows, "Because they all know not to follow me.” There was something akin to a warning in Bruce’s voice that had Y/N biting their lips and following the wait staff quietly. 

Y/N watched as Damian and Bruce conversed casually, well, as casually as Damian can be. The topics went from school, a family named the Kents, and future prospects. Damian was still unsure about what exactly it is he wanted to do, and it most likely didn’t help that Tim was the one who was going to take over Wayne Enterprises. 

Y/N continued to eat and sip their tea, not wanting to add to anything as their mind wandered. After talking to Jason, it proved to Y/N that they were somewhat always being watched. Jason bringing up that one specific memory may have made Y/N’s heart rate spike, but it did prove that Jason was there. The photos, all of them that were taken without Y/N’s consent, show that everyone had at some point gained interest. 

However, why did they never act on it? Why wait until now to do something? 

‘Bruce finally sees it too.’ Y/N’s jaw clenched, what does Bruce have to do with any of this? Could they not interact without Bruce’s permission? Alfred would never allow that. 

Would he? 

“What do you think, Y/N?” The question jolted Y/N out of their thoughts and back into reality. Looking around the table to two expectant gazes, they gave an apologetic smile, “Sorry. I was thinking about something, what was the question?” 

Damian scrunched his nose, “What is there to think about when you have blood-related family members in front of you?” Y/N blinked in shock, and then remembered how much blood meant to Damian. They shrugged, “I have a busy schedule coming up.” 

Bruce stabbed the piece of steak with the silver fork, “You do, don’t you.” He stared at his child, one who he has left to their own devices and now is estranged from the family. Always keeping them at arms length, and never looking back to see if they are behind them. Not because Y/N trusts them to be, but because Y/N was used to them not being there. 

Y/N, for how proud Bruce is of them for standing on their own, is still naive. Still innocent. They didn’t notice the paparazzi lurking around, or maybe they got so used to them they learned to block them out. None of it sat right with Bruce. Those should have been things he taught Y/N. Things to prepare Y/N for a world that was bathed in camera flashes and gossip. How to look out for themselves. How to defend themselves, and what to do in case there is a stalker. Those should have been at least a fraction of what Bruce taught them. 

Yet, he never did any of that. Looking at Y/N sitting across from him, sitting tall and with a closed-off expression, had Bruce frowning. Y/N was still polite, smiled when they needed to and engaged in conversation, but there was still a wall between them. Almost like glass. Bruce is able to see everything and hear almost everything, but his ability to interact with his child is limited. All interactions stopped by the wall of glass put up by Y/N themselves. 

It's a good thing that Batman breaks glass windows on a daily basis. 

“You have some shoots in New York, will you be visiting afterwards?” Bruce watched Y/N’s eyes widen and lips pursed. He could see the breaking point, cracks spreading throughout the glass as Y/N’s mind tried to wrap around the question. 

“How–” 

“Is it odd for a parent to know their child’s schedule?” Y/N blinked, and processed the information. A tight smile formed on their lips, “How long have you known my schedule?” Bruce took a bite of the steak and Damian continued to eat his plate of some fancy pasta.

“Now Y/N-” 

“How long have you known my schedule?” Damian glanced up, irritated at their father being cut off, but the look on Bruce’s face had him settling down. The man was smiling, non-threateningly but all Y/N could see was the Bruce that had stood before them in the changing room after Gabanna’s runway show. The same eyes, full of intentions that had Y/N shivering and the money, power, and background to act on those intentions. 

“Like I have said, Y/N. I am making up for the lost time and neglect you have faced within our home.” 

“And I have said, Bruce, there is nothing to make up. That still does not answer my question about you knowing my schedule.” The cracks were spreading, chipping away and becoming weaker. 

“What parent doesn’t know-” 

“Don’t repeat that sentence. Bruce, you know what I am asking and you keep avoiding it. Who told you my schedule?” An emotion other than faux politeness finally filtered into Y/N’s voice, making the question sound firm and unlikely to bend or be swept away with Bruce’s elusivity. He smiled, “Oh Y/N, did Maya not tell you? GLM Agency has been under new agency since last year. Wayne Industries is now the parent of GLM Agency.” 

Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, their pretty face twisting as the words registered with them. Everything crashed on Y/N, like glass shattering and bathing them in their shards. The guest room that is identical to their bedroom at home, the clothes that are from their closet, the two rooms full of their photos and mannequins wearing their iconic looks, that fucking Batman-inspired piece of clothing. 

“Y/N.” They’re walking away from the table, head lost in thought and body moving on autopilot. The need to get away from everyone was overpowering the logical part of their mind, and Y/N is walking towards the front door of the restaurant. Pushing the glass doors open, and being bombarded by flashes from cameras. 

“Y/N, what do you have to say about your mother?” A 13-year-old Y/N was guided out of the condo by police officers. Eyes rimmed red from crying and their only source of comfort was the blanket they managed to snag before being escorted out. 

“Were you aware of your mother’s drug-use?” 

“Are you on drugs?” A 17-year-old Y/N walked past the paparazzi, keeping their eyes forward even though they wanted to snarl at that person. 

“Y/N! Look over here!” 

“Look!”

“Over here!”  

A large hand gripped their arm guided Y/N through the crowd and towards the parking lot where the car was. The large body blocking the photos and shielding them from the flashing of cameras that had thrown Y/N back in time. Once inside the safety of the metal box on wheels, Y/N became aware of their rapid breathing and the feeling of their heart pounding. Irregular beats and sweat began to form on their skin as they struggled to take a breath. Just one breath.

The hand that had guided them to the car grabbed their wrist and placed it on a large and firm chest, emphasizing the deep breaths that Y/N needed and wanted to take. Rough fingers gently traced their cheek, up to their ear, and then to their hair. Gently bringing Y/N back to the present. 

“Shh shh, it’s okay Y/N. It’s okay. You’re safe.” E/C eyes drifted around the car, and closed once they saw the person’s reflection. 

“Father, those vermin have been cleared. All of them will be getting in trouble.” 

“Thank you, Damian.” Y/N rested their head against the glass and fought down the need to jump out of the car. Bruce eyed Y/N, and what made it worse was there was an apologetic look on his face. 

“Y/N, I… I am sorry. I thought Maya had told you.” 

“Seems like your manager isn’t doing their job if you didn’t know. You should get a new one.” 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Y/N mumbled, feeling a headache forming and they wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers and die. They could feel Damian’s pointed look through the seat, “Maya is a great manager. She will not be replaced.” Damian sneered, “She didn’t even inform you of the change in ownership.” 

“Because it does not concern me. As long as I am able to get booked and get to my destinations, it does not matter who is in charge.” Y/N paused, “Although, now it looks like nepotism.” 

Bruce huffed at his child’s overdramaticness, "It's not nepotism. I had no say in what shows you did or who booked them.” 

“But you had a say in what clothes I wore.” Ice filled the car and Bruce gave Y/N a long look. 

“Just that one piece, and I asked her to do it. She didn’t have to do it.” Y/N laughed, long and hollow as they turned their head to Bruce, “Of course she had to do it. Bruce Wayne is asking for a commission piece, who would turn it down without risking their reputation?” The man sighed, “Y/N, I submitted a commission piece. That is the only thing I had a hand in throughout your modeling career.” 

“Others won’t believe that.” 

“Who cares what others think.” Y/N whipped their head around to Damian, “I do. I do a lot actually. I care a lot about what my fellow models say and think about me.” The boy rolled his eyes, “Why? Their opinions don’t matter.” 

“And your’s do?” 

“We are family!” 

“By blood, yeah! That’s as far as it goes.” Damian looked ready to snarl out more remarks, but the abrupt parking of the car had both of them pausing. They were already at the manor, and Y/N wondered just how fast was Bruce driving to get them here so quickly. 

Y/N was quick to jump out of the car, “I will grab those bags later. Please don’t make Alfred take them.” Bruce followed, “Y/N.” 

“No! No, ‘Y/N’ or anything. I want to be left alone.” Y/N pushed open the manor’s front door, and they wonder how many times they have snuck in and out of these doors before. Was it really even sneaking out if someone knew? 

“Y/N, we need to talk about this.” There was something in Bruce’s voice that stoked the right ember within Y/N’s chest. Whipping around, they glared at the two Waynes, “For fuck’s sake, I just want to be left alone! I was fine with how things were. None of this-this- whatever the hell this is! 

I was fine on my own. I was fine without you guys. I would have been fine if you stayed away!” Bruce didn’t even look bothered that Y/N was yelling, in fact the asshole looked relieved. He gave a patient smile with fake concern in those blue eyes, “The thing is though Y/N, you never should have done it on your own.” 

Y/N rolled their eyes, “Where the hell did all of this even come from?! This… this sudden need to be part of my life? You’re not even being subtle about it!” They were drawing a crowd, but Y/N couldn’t even bring themselves to care. 

“I keep telling you, it does. Not. Bother. Me that you all were inattentive. It doesn’t make me mad, it doesn’t make me upset, it doesn’t stir anything within me knowing you were not there. Yet here you are trying to make it up and all that nonsense, but when I tell you that it's fine you don’t listen!

“It genuinely seems that you are not doing this for me, but to ease your guilt.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze, and it appeared they were in their own little showdown. Bruce’s gaze, not showing a hint of anger or irritation at his child while Y/N seethed. For once, Y/N looked liked the wild one in the family. Their teeth bared and eyes full of unadulterated rage, they glared at Bruce with the face of a raging angel. 

They hated how Bruce’s lips pulled into a smile, and the feeling of gloating eyes falling on their body from all their siblings. Like they all knew something Y/N didn’t. 

“Bruce finally sees it too.” 

Y/N pocketed that thought, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. Nothing intelligent was ever said when angry– 

“So tell your big brother Y/N, how do you expect us to trust you on your own when you can’t even notice someone on your terrace?” 

– Fuck it. Intense E/C eyes landed back on Bruce, “If you bought GLM Agency a year ago, why now?” Bruce continued to stare into Y/N’s eyes, “Because it seemed like you needed a break from Gotham. So, I figured a year away would be good.” 

Y/N narrowed their gaze, “Then why didn’t you call?” 

“Because it looked like you needed a break.” Y/N chuckled, “I needed a break, or you needed time to get those rooms set up?” Bruce raised a brow, but Y/N continued on, “It's one thing to have photos from some photoshoots but not photos taken without my consent. Or the clothes I’ve worn on mannequins with almost the exact same physique as me.” 

“They are exact.” Y/N tore their gaze away from Bruce to stare at Tim, the thin and exhausted looking teen standing above them on the stairway. Chapped lips opened, “We used the measurements within the modeling database and created mannequins that have your exact measurements.” 

Y/N gaped at him for a quick second before rolling their eyes, “Wow. That’s not helping your guys’ case at all.” Dick approached them, going for a placating gesture and an easy smile, “Now Y/N, I think you might be overreacting–” 

“I think I am underreacting to all of this. I find out that you all have been taking secret photos of me, which someone them are from my ‘stalker’ and I don’t really believe that but whatever, you have access to my bank account, you bought the modeling agency I work for, commissioned a Batman-inspired piece, and that you have been keeping some of runway pieces on models that are exactly my measurements!

How else am I supposed to be reacting?! And I still don’t have my phone back!” Y/N snapped at Dick, and then began to rub their temples when the headache got worse. An Aspirin, they need an Aspirin. Now, preferably but Y/N has the strangest sense that even if they did take it, the headache would not go away. 

“Whatever, just… I’m going home tomorrow and whatever was bought today just… just ship it. Since you know my address and all that apparently.” Y/N began walking up the stairs, ignoring the panicked looks some of their ‘siblings’ were giving them and the dark look on Bruce’s face. 

Dick, ever the peacemaker, reached out, “Wait, you can’t go back yet! You still have a few more weeks before your next shoot. Just stay for a few more days.” 

“Add kidnapping and being held against my will to that list too.” Y/N continued walking, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. They missed the nod Bruce gave Tim and Damian, and they missed the dark and knowing looks on Jason’s and Dick’s face. The walk back to the room was long, and more exhausting than usual. The events of today caught up to them and Y/N wanted nothing more than to cry, scream, and then go to sleep. 

Because why not. 

“Y/N, you are making a mistake.” Dick followed after their younger sibling, who only sped up to get away from them. The man grabbed Y/N’s forearm, “Y/N, listen! You don’t want to do this.” 

“What is ‘this’ you are talking about Dick? I am literally just going home. It is not a big deal.” Y/N tried to pull their arm away from Dick, but to no avail. 

“It's how you are doing it Y/N. All we want is to spend time with you and make up for the lost time!” Y/N wanted to scream at Dick, but held it in and instead gritted out, “Why didn’t you do it normally then? Like… texting or calling.” Dick pouted, those blue eyes looking sad and his lower lip jutting out like a toddler, “We missed you, and we just wanted to see you.” 

Y/N’s face was scrunched, their mouth open in disgust, “How can you say that with that look on your face as if you all weren’t the ones who ignored me?” Dick looked heartbroken and some part of Y/N felt bad about that. They remembered the room with the photos and the other side of Dick that they saw only a few days ago. Their body seized in terror, but Y/N tried to keep their expression neutral. 

“Look, Dick, once again I am not mad about how my time here was spent. I’m genuinely not. But you guys keep throwing it back in my face and saying such contradicting things, of course I’m going to get upset about it.” They are trying to be civil. Trying so desperately to be civil and it feels like it is not working. Old wounds and painful memories continued to be dragged out of the crevices of their minds like it was some type of zoo attraction. 

A 16-year-old Y/N stared at the shattered mirror, tears racing down their face as they stared at their broken reflection. All they could see were the imperfections everyone continued to call out. Comparing them to their mother, to other models, to society’s twisted views of beauty that Y/N is trying to be. 

If their mother was alive, would she know what to say? Would she gaze at them with those soft eyes and long lashes, smiling beautifully and whispering, “Diamonds have never been made with gentle hands.” Continuing to remind Y/N that modeling was not a gentle job. It wasn’t a job for those with paper skin or glass bones. Those easily hurt by the meanest of comments, nastiest looks, and the horrendous words never made it in this industry.

Would this have been easier if they had the support of Bruce and his kids? 

Labored breaths and broken sobs filled room-turned-practice room as the mirrors caught the sight of a teenager breaking down. Crumbling and shattering under the pressure, pricking their fingers as they cleaned up the broken mirror and picking up their shattered image. 

It will be those same mirrors that watched those broken shards form their glass castle, posing as diamonds to deter others from trying to break in. 

Y/N continued to walk down the long hallway, ignoring Dick’s calls and locking the door behind them. It was only 2pm, and Y/N had plans to sleep the rest of the day. They had no bags to pack, and nothing here they felt like taking. All they needed to do is sleep the day away, which will be easy, wake up tomorrow, call a cab and skedaddle out of here. 

“Thats all we have to do, Y/N.” They closed their eyes for what only felt like a few minutes, until jostling and whispers of their name had them groggily opening their eyes. A yawn escaping them and their eyes struggled to open. 

“Why are you in my room?” Tim gave a small huff, “Its dinner time.” Y/N buried their face in their pillow, groaning out a ‘not hungry.’ The young man hummed, “I think you should come down for this one, Y/N. You might get the answers you want.” 

“Not interested.” Tim leaned down, his breath tickling Y/N’s ear, “You’re glass castle is shattering, Y/N. Don’t you want help fixing it?” Y/N wanted to swing. They wanted to do something to get their point across that they wanted almost nothing to do with this crazy family anymore. 

They opted to glare, and Tim gave a soft smile, “C’mon, lets go eat. Besides, Alfred said that the cab won’t be coming for you if you don’t eat dinner.” 

“Alfie!” Y/N groaned into the pillow, and they had stopo themselves from throwing up their arms and legs in a fit. Leave it to Alfred to do something so diabolical. Groaning one more time, Y/N sat up and mentally braced themselves for this shitshow of a dinner. 

E/C eyes looked at the door they know they locked, and chose that whatever little bickerment that will start was not worth it at this point in time. Throwing their legs over the bed, they followed Tim out of the room and towards the dining room. 

Everyone was there, and waiting for Y/N to appear. Once again, they were made to sit between Bruce and Damian, which they did so with little complaint. 

“Now, Y/N, it looks like everyone has some explaining to do.” Y/N gave Bruce the driest most unimpressed face they could muster, to which the man took with a smile, “So, what questions do you want answered?” 

‘They’re really doing this.’ Y/N could feel another headache forming, but decided to take the brightly colored bait. Looking at Jason, who was meeting their gaze with his green eyes waiting for this question, Y/N asked, “What did you mean when you said ‘Bruce sees it too.’” The man smirked, meeting Bruce’s eyes and back to Y/N, “Exactly that. The old man finally sees what you are to this messed up family.” 

Y/N narrowed their gaze, taking a bite of the pasta, and chewing slowly. Dick decided to chime in, “Y/N, you have been loved by us for a while. Something you probably pieced together, but Bruce took a while to see it because… well because you’re not us.” 

“Not like, you’re not Robin, but more like you’re not…” 

“You’re fragile.” Everyone’s head turned to Damian, and Y/N had half the idea to be upset about that. They raised an eyebrow, but before they could say anything Damian continued, “You are not meant for this life we lead. Vigilantism never suited you, and that is something I picked up on when I first came here.” 

When Damian had first met Y/N, it was like seeing a rare flower that had to be protected at all costs. Y/N was something that at the slightest gesture, could be hurt. When people come across something ethereal like that, the need to protect it can be divided into two different directions. 

Hovering or distancing. 

Bruce chose to distance himself, whether he knew it or not, and Damian had followed suit. He watched as his older sibling hovered from a distance, watching the rare flower bloom before it was finally the right time to engage with it. 

“Y/N, it isn’t so much that I didn’t want to interact with you, it is that I didn’t know how.” Bruce looked into his child’s eyes, “How could I interact with someone who needed gentle hands, when there is not a gentle bone in my body.” Bruce’s hands have broken more bones than the human body has. He has scars on his skin and calluses on the palm of his hands. 

“It took me a while to figure out why, but once I did, your absence became suffocating.” Everyone had been gasping for air, doing everything in their power for the slightest piece of oxygen. It was the fear of Y/N being harmed that kept them collared and chained to the photos, every interview, every runway show. 

However, Bruce knows that every now and then, children should be able to spread their wings and fall. Y/N ended up flying, soaring above them and never looking back down. Bruce, and the family, decided to give Y/N a year. Just one on their own. This gave them all plenty of time to improve the glass terrarium that they wanted Y/N to be placed back in. This time they will be protected and paid attention too. 

“When everyone stated that I can finally see the impact you have on this family, it means I have to come to terms with the fact that I no longer want to be hands off with your life and career.” Y/N’s brow furrowed, not liking the term ‘hands off.’ 

“You have done great on your own. A fabulous job. Clawing your way up and making a name for yourself, I am so proud of you. Everyone is extremely proud of you. 

However, there is no need for you to struggle anymore. You’ve proven yourself, now let us take care of the rest.” Y/N felt shivers go down their spine as they stared at their family in fear. They took in each expression, and when they made eye contact with Jason, the other had a daring look in his eyes. Begging for Y/N to do something, similar to how predators hope for their prey to fight back to make the kill all the more interesting. 

“But… But I don’t need your help, Bruce. I can do this on my own.” Bruce’s smile was that of honey, luring in unsuspecting insects and trapping them in its viscous fluid. If Y/N were younger, they may have fallen for it. They may have allowed themselves to coat their fingers in sugary words and sweet gestures, just so they could feel the love from a father. 

“I know. We know, but you don’t need to anymore.” 

“Now wait a minute-no. No no no no. You can’t just do that, explain yourself, and expect me to just roll with it.” Y/N set their napkin down, and tried to stand from the table, “I don’t need your help, although thank you for wanting to I guess. I am fine with it just being me and Maya.” 

“About that…” Dick grimaced, handing Y/N his phone and pulled up was an article. 

Y/N’s eyes widened and the world around them went cold. THey looked back up, “You’re lying.” Dick shook his head, fake empathy across his face as Y/N continued to read the article.

“No. NO this is a joke and a terrible one. Maya would never–” 

“They were found in her apartment, Y/N.” The headlines, eerily similar to ones from five year ago, flashed across the small phone screen. 

Manager of Model Y/N L/N Suspected of Drug Usage

Y/N wanted to cry. Horrible flashbacks resurfacing and tears pricking their eyes. They turned to Bruce who was still sitting and eating his pasta.

“Bruce, please. I know Maya, she would never do this.” The man said nothing. Y/N bit their lip, “Bruce… Bruce please. If its because of what I said then take that out on me. Please leave Maya out of it.

“Please Bruce! I know Maya. She’d never do that, and–and Bruce please.” Y/N was whimpering now, tears streaming down their face as the thought of losing their manager, the last person they had, nearly had them collapsing to their knees. 

“Lets make a deal, Y/N.” Bruce wiped the corner of his lips, and grabbed Y/N’s thin wrist. 

“You come home more often, during breaks and whatnot. I won’t have a lot of control over your modeling schedule, but make sure you include time each week for family. The only exception is when you are out of the country.” Y/N stared at Bruce in confusion, but nodded along. 

“In return, Maya gets out of trouble. Nothing will change other than the weekly meeting with family.”  Y/N can’t breathe. They cannot breathe and there were eyes all on them. Gulping down on whatever air they can get a hold of, Y/N sobbed out, “Why are you going to such lengths?” 

Bruce stood, and even though Y/N is tall, no one compares to Bruce’s towering figure. He smiled down at the model, and cupped a wet cheek with a calloused hand. Ice blue eyes stared into watery E/C eyes, and that smile turned too sharp to not be hidden blade, “I told you. It is too make up for lost time. Plus, as those photos suggest, you need protection. What better protection could you have that is not only part of the family, but also vigilantes?

“While it is true that diamonds are never made without pressure, diamond-encrusted jewlery require gentle hands and patience.” Bruce kissed Y/N’s temple, and the model flinched away. Ice blue met their eyes once more, “Now pick, Y/N. Either way, you will still be meeting us once a week, but you can have someone you know at your side or someone under my command.” 

+++++

“And cut! Good job everyone!” The flashes from the camera stopped and the stage lighting turned off, no longer blinding everyone within the room. Y/N stood up from the red couch, a smile still on their lips as they thanked the photographers. 

“Y/N, as always, perfect shots!” 

“Good job Y/N!” 

“Thank you for doing this, Y/N!” They continued to smile and acknowledge everyone that passed by, Maya right behind as they walked back to the changing room. Sitting on the couch was Jason’s large form and Tim’s lithe one. Both of them looking up as Y/N entered, ignoring Maya’s flinch. 

“You have a birthday gala you need to catch. Come on, change out of that and lets go.” Leave it to Jason to get the message across. Y/N nodded, taking to the changing room where they know their clothes are already waiting for them. They could hear Tim interrogating Maya in the politist way. Clipped words and empty praises. 

“Y/N they came out of nowhere! They stormed in and went straight to a vent where these-these drugs were! I’ve never even seen those there before! Let alone know that there was a vent!” Maya cried into Y/N’s shoulder as Dick and Damian watched on. 

Emerging from the changing room in jeans and a crew neck, Y/N sighed, “Alright, shall we get going?” Jason stood up and Tim shook Maya’s sweaty hand. Y/N gave his manager a nod, signalling for her to take the rest of the day off. Jason’s large hand rested on the small of Y/N’s back, and Tim led the way to the new car that Bruce bought. 

The ride was only two hours, filled with light conversation and catching up. Once at the mansion, Y/N greeted Alfred with a hug. Not as tight as they normally are, but it felt wrong entering the mansion without hugging Alfred. Bruce entered the foyer and grinned, hugging Y/N and kissing their temple. 

“Your clothes are in your room, and there is another present on behalf of Damian and Jason.” Y/N nodded, “Thanks, Bruce.” The man smiled, “Come and eat dinner when you are done. We’ll have enough time before the Gala to at least eat something.” Y/N began walking away, each step up the stairs feeling like there was lead on their feet stopping them from going any further. 

Once in the room, the locked the door and on the bed was a box and black and gold clothing. The black looking like it was made out of silk, and the gold was sequin. Y/N carefully walked towards the box, and when they lifted the lid, a white kitten mewed at them. Their fur still looking young and their eyes bluer than Bruce’s. They mewed and mewed, and Y/N could feel tears streaming down their face. 

In neat cursive and tied around the bow of the box, was a small note, ‘We’ll watch her when you decide to leave the country.’ 

Y/N bit their lip, and felt as if their world was falling a part once more. Broken glass surrounding them and no matter where they stepped, their feet will end up bleeding. Now forced to rely on their family to carry them out of the mess they made, and now… now there was a lifeform that this family can and most likely will use against them.  

Thin fingers gently picked up the cat and gave it a wobbly smile, as she mewed at Y/N. A red collar already around her neck, tied in a perfect bow. 

“Y/N, the makeup artists are here. Are you ready?” Wiping their tears, Y/N set the kitten down and took in the black and gold piece once more. 

“Not yet, but they can come in. I’ll get dressed afterwards.” 

“Alright.” The door opened, despite Y/N locking it, and it was Dick smiling as he let in the two artists who were now scrambling to get set up. Blue eyes traveled from the cat, to the clothes, and back to Y/N. He grinned and stalked closer to his younger sibling that was now being corralled into sitting in front of the makeup artist. 

He picked up the kitten and passed her for Y/N to hold, whispering in their ears, “Happy Birthday, Y/N.” 

______________________________________________________________

Honestly... I really like this series. I think I'm going to do other stories but in the other characters POV now.

#batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #platonic yandere #batfam #batman x reader #bruce wayne #platonic batman #platonic batfam #yandere imagines #gender neautral reader #batman x gn reader #Yandere batman #batfam x male reader #Batfamily x female reader #Batfamily x gender neutral reader

[icallhimjoey]

Can we have a sweet and soft Christmas eve with Joey? Just the two of us? pretty please

this was requested at the perfect time, so thank you, and merry christmas my sluts! Wordcount: 1.7K

---

Still Love Me?

"I'm sorry, I'm not crying because I'm upset, d-don't worry, I just..."

You don't get like this very often. Usually, trying to be extra affectionate makes you scrunch your nose up, makes you squirm and laugh and cringe. Makes you push him away, not taking the extra hugs and kisses seriously at all.

Joe doesn't mind.

"What's wrong?"

It's actually nice to not always feel the need to give you more. To not be afraid that maybe you'd be upset after not immediately coming over to hug and kiss you when he'd walk in at the end of the day.

But something's different tonight.

It's likely the holiday stress that's getting to you. Nothing a pair of extra affectionate warm embracing arms won't fix.

"I thought we had more cheese, but all we've got left is this..."

You suppress a sob.

Unsuccessfully.

Joe knows the tears are only there because all of everything has come together for the perfect storm, and you're just about ready to fall apart.

It's sort of cute that it's a lack of cheese that does it, and Joe's secretly glad it's not something that he'd done or said that got you. That it's not his fault, and that he doesn't have to apologise over something unimportant.

It's fine, though, the crying.

Joe had been ready for it.

He's got steady hands and is prepared to catch whatever needs catching. Knows how to put you back together just fine.

"Why did I do this? I've got to stop sneaking things, I– look, there's no... this is all we've got..."

You've got family coming over tomorrow, and it's the first year that your place is the spot for the big get together. It's nerve-racking in new ways you didn't know existed before because you're bringing both sets of parents in, and all you want to do is make the family proud.

Be the perfect daughter.

Have the stepmothers and stepdads get along as well as all of the divorced people. All of the siblings. Step-siblings.

Fuck, there's too many people coming over.

Could you still cancel, do you think?

You just... you just want Christmas be wholesome, and festive, and cosy, full of laughter and love and just... have it be perfect.

It's almost become a bit of a passion project, and it's quite literally driven you mad.

Well. Driven you to tears, at least.

Joe looks over and sees you hold a little block of brie cheese. It's not much, and it's got a bite taken out of it.

"Wait, did you–" Joe's already smiling, because what the fuck is he looking at right now? His girlfriend's got tears in her eyes and is stood in front of the opened fridge door, holding a bit of French cheese that has teeth marks in.

Surely, you are able to imagine what this looks like from his point of view.

It's at least a little funny.

But another sob wracks from your chest and all Joe can do is step closer and wrap arms around your shaking frame.

He's allowed to laugh as he does so.

"I didn't know- I thought we had more, b-but this was all we have, and I snuck a bite last night, because I– I was peckish and just wanted a little something, and–"

"Hey," Joe leans back and gets your face in both his hands. He's still smiling. Can't not smile, because this is ridiculous, but you also look very cute. Red nose. Fat tears stuck in your eyelashes. The colour of your eyes about ten times brighter because of the unshed ones.

"We'll serve 'em dry crackers, and they'll fucking take what they're given, all right?"

You pout and hold up the evidence of your late-night-snack-run in your own kitchen from the night before. It's right in between your faces and gives Joe a chance to really see the cause of the outburst.

"Still love me?"

Joe looks at the brie a second and then lurches forward with a growl, sinking teeth into the soft cheese for a bite of his own.

"Still love you." he replies, mouth full of cheese.

You can't help the choking laugh, head cocking to the side as a defeated soft chuckle leaves you. It only makes Joe want to grab hold of you tighter.

"Hmm," Joe hums, now chewing, and he frowns. "This is good. We should–" he can't finish the sentence without laughing, knowing it's likely the wrong thing to say, but he's already started the sentence. You get a good eyeful of the cheese in his mouth, in between his teeth. "We should get more of this."

Well, you can't.

Hence the crying.

You pout once more and then groan. It's so stupid, you're well aware. You just need a bit of sleep. Your family won't hate you because there's no cheese.

And if anything, you could throw it into the group chat and are sure that at least three people have some brie to bring along tomorrow.

You really are just very tired.

"Tell you what," Joe says, now taking the little piece of cheese from your fingers, one arm still around you. "We'll finish this, have some hot chocolate and just... relax. Watch a Christmas film. Tomorrow is tomorrow and tonight is tonight, you've done enough prepping and it'll all be fine–"

"Perfect." you correct.

It's important that everything will be perfect.

"It'll all be perfect." Joe coos, voice smooth like butter.

You sniff and look at him a moment. He's still chewing. Smiling. Joe's being all playful and it's reminding you of why you love him so much. Glancing into the living room, you know Joe's right. Everything's ready. Everything's done.

It's Christmas Eve.

"Calm before the storm." you sigh, patting Joe where you're holding onto him. Then lower down, quick touch to the bum. Joe easily lets you.

"Calm before the storm." he confirms before you let go of each other. You move to collect yourself, wiping fingers below your eyes, and Joe opens a cupboard to get to mugs out and says, "And I'll go get extra cheese tomorrow, it'll be fine."

You're about to protest. Tell him that the shop you usually go to won't be open. It'll be Christmas. And everyone's stocked up already. Shelves are empty all over. But Joe sees it across your face before you can say anything and adds, "I'll find some, don't worry about it."

And so you don't.

You accept a kiss to your temple, a deep inhale of your hair and you tilt your head for a kiss on the lips. A quiet thank you.

After a squeeze of your arm, Joe gets started on the hot chocolate and you decide to see if there's anything good on TV or if it'll be Netflix for the night.

Before you've been able to make a choice, you hear mugs being filled and you scurry back into the kitchen. You get to the fridge before Joe does, which was the plan. You find the can of squirty cream amongst all of the food and drink - your fridge has never been this full. It's almost triggeringly full; so much food, yet so little cheese.

It takes you too long, and Joe joins to look over your shoulder, to see if he can spot it before you do.

He doesn't.

You find it and giggle excitedly, a little delirious (you've gone mad, remember?) as you shake it with a wild arm. Your demeanor is the opposite of what it was minute earlier.

No tears. Just manic laughter.

Makes Joe laugh just the same. His girlfriend's gone insane and, if he's honest, he's kind of into it.

You spray some cream into both mugs that Joe's filled with hot chocolate, and before you place it back into the fridge, you shake the can again.

"You just said you should stop sneaking things," Joe isn't exactly trying to stop you, but he knows what you're about to do. Feels like it's worth saying something, to maybe prevent a further break down.

It's of no use, though.

His comment makes you glance him pointed a look. It's ridiculous of him to assume you'd been serious. Of course you're not going to stop sneaking things. He doesn't see the deadpan stare you give him because he's busy placing mini marshmallows onto your drinks, but despite the advice, you go for it anyway.

You tip your head back and spray some of the cream directly into your mouth.

"My God," Joe says when you let it go for a little too long, and when he looks, he barks a laugh.

You've overdone it.

It's too much.

Well, is it ever too much? Not really. But it doesn't fit into your mouth and thus there's a problem. This is going to be messy.

With your head still tilted back, you release a small sound of panic at the inability to close your mouth and raise a cupped hand, ready to catch whatever is going to spill.

But Joe knows just the perfect fix, and he's quick.

Before you know what's happening, your boyfriend's got his hand on the back of your neck, digging in strong fingers and guiding your head forward.

Just before whatever your lips can't curl around is about to slide down your chin, Joe's mouthing at it and manages to get it all, tongue licking and lips closing around your opened ones.

What follows is a weird, full-cheeked sticky, creamy, sugary kiss that has you giggling into each others mouths.

It's still messy, but you'd easily do this again. Would it be too obvious if you just went for an insane mouthful once more?

Joe pulls back, sees he's missed a bit and doesn't hesitate to lick at the corner of your mouth, making you shriek with your mouth closed, pushing him away.

"You're gross," you say fondly after swallowing.

He's also adorably sweet, but he doesn't need telling.

Joe lets his head bobble back a little as he silently laughs, wiping at his own mouth with the back of his hand, glad to have been of service.

"Yea? Still love me?"

Tomorrow's going to be fine.

There's no cheese but for the little chunk you're about to share. It'll likely be all gone if you both have a single cracker with some on.

And there probably also won't be any squirty cream left, what with your plan to bring the can over to the sofa for top-ups after you've eaten all of it off. Or, you know, after you've sprayed more of it into your mouth just so Joe can eat it out of there again.

You families can have hot chocolate without any, and Joe's right. They'll fucking take what they'll be given and be grateful.

Or, Joe can find some tomorrow.

Somewhere.

Whatever.

You're no longer fussed.

It's Christmas. Christmas Eve.

"Still love you." you beam, because you do.

You really, really do.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @chrissymjstan, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #still love me?

[twst-drabbles]

Scarabia 7

Summary: An iridescent feather was all it took for Kalim to pack up his bags and drag Jamil to the kingdom of the faeries. Jamil has trouble understanding this odd fascination he has. In fact, it’s almost scaring him a bit.

(Trust me when I say this AU has not been exiting my mind. It’s been floating around in there, but for some reason my fingers could not get it out. The fingers and brain would much rather churn out other things. Weird weird brain. Hate having to wrestle with it so. Also excuse the errors, I am kinda sleepy.)

From birth until death, Jamil will always be expected to entertain all of the wills and whimsies of Kalim. He cannot deny him any request if it is within his means, nor should he scorn him when he clearly is making mistakes. A servant, a guide, and a source of comfort all wrapped up in one. And all he has to do is keep this facade perfect until the day Kalim dies.

…what a joke, such a thing won’t happen. His services will likely be passed onto Kalim’s child, if he even makes it to that age. And if not his child, then the next sibling. Retirement is a dream meant for the privileged, and so long as those privileged few exist, Jamil will be made to serve them.

Jamil cannot ask too many questions, especially when it carries the possibility of offending the master.

He cannot ask Kalim of the origins of that iridescent feather. Cannot question why Kalim has spent the entire week simply gazing at it. Cannot even ask if he can look at it, no matter how familiar it may seem to him.

His dreams, they don’t matter, so he must always stifle them.

Clearly this wasn’t his place, and all Jamil can do is sigh in frustration when Kalim locked himself in his room. And sigh even deeper when Kalim burst out his room one day, claiming he wished to vacation in the main kingdom of faeries. Wanted to see the sight where the most beautiful feather came from.

And off they went on a personal caravan. And onto the dark stone they walk.

“And what will you do with this bird, if you end up finding it?”

How silly. Jamil already knows the answer to it already.

“Hmm? Ah, well I’m gonna keep it of course!” And the smile on Kalim’s face was as big as ever. Any wider and it would seem manic, but that’s simply the way his happiness works. He feels it in all of its intensity, even should it warp his features into something almost unplesant.

“Though, with how big of a cage you purchased, I’d predict I’ll have to take care of it sooner or later, won’t I?” As everything does. Cute novelties always lose their luster within half a year. Such was the fate of Kalim’s private zoo when he asked for it for his birthday. There were other servants to take care of it, but it never sit right with Jamil to just, let them do part of the work when he can perfectly take care of it himself.

That and his parents scolded him for daring to slack off, even though he pulled multiple muscles in his back. He could never quite lay back on his chair the same way ever since.

“Oh no, I don’t want you to touch them.”

Jamil stopped his tracks, the frankness of Kalim’s tone and the never wavering smile on his face almost had him believing he imagined it. “…Kalim?”

Kalim paused himself, blinking before his mind was pulled from his thoughts. He waved his hands, fumbling about in his nerves. “Ah, I’m sorry! That didn’t come out right, did it?”

“Whether it came out right or not doesn’t matter. If you don’t want me to touch your newest pet, then so it shall be,” Jamil shook his head, sighing out in hopes the urge to bit his lip will also pass.

“Sorry sorry…”

What Kalim doesn’t know won’t hurt him. The role of the perfect servant isn’t something that Jamil can simply be. It’s an act, a mask, and every so often Jamil has to pull it off.

Kalim was always a heavy sleeper, even more so when he’s been drinking from the various wines he had Jamil bring. Under the guise of some jovial fun, Jamil coaxed Kalim into drinking much more than usual. No thunderstorm would be able to wake him up. Kalim once almost drowned outside in a storm like that, napping without anything to protect him.

Jamil doesn’t sleep in the same room as Kalim, but here he was nonetheless. He took a glance to Kalim splayed out in his pile of pillows and blankets, sighed, then continued digging through the various bags and luggage.

Finally, Jamil’s fingers hit something. He pulled out a large, gold gilded, black box with a keyhole in it. He didn’t have to look for the key. It was tied with a silk ribbon right at the bottom of the box. Really, Kalim needs to be more careful, but Jamil certainly won’t tell him so. Perhaps later, but not now.

He opens the box and he was almost… disappointed at the sight. The feather was dull. All the rainbow light that would scatter upon the surface of the walls when daylight hit it wasn’t there. The plumes still pulsed with those delicate colors, but it didn’t hold the radiance that Jamil knows he saw when it was Kalim’s hands.

From his dreams, the shape was the same, and yet it was missing just about everything else. What was it, beyond its glow? The lack of numbers? The sturdy feeling of wings against his body? The face that was connected to it?

Face… what face? No matter how hard Jamil tried to claw through his memories, that face he wanted to see was no clearer.

Even with his disappointment, Jamil plucked the feather and held it in his hand.

Only then did its glow come back. A kaleidoscope of colors flowed forth and blinded Jamil’s unprepared eyes. He winced and held the feather to his chest, just in case it woke up Kalim.

He waited, but only heard a snort and a shifting. He’s still asleep.

Jamil blinked, tears dotting the corners of his eyes from the brightness of it all.

There it was, the beauty he’s been seeking, that Kalim had been hoarding all to himself.

How silly. How stupid to be so taken by a feather. To have this simple item that was nothing more than a gift from a pen pal to Kalim to haunt Jamil so. To haunt both of them, actually.

Even with all those reservations in mind, Jamil lifted that feather and laid a gentle kiss on the body. It felt nice, feeling the plumes brush against his lips.

…he should put this away and go to bed. Kalim must never know what he just did.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #ask #drabble #scarabia #kalim #kalim al asim #jamil #jamil viper #valkyrie au #reader insert #yandere

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 5 | my maid again

Warnings | none

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1324 AD

GOJO SEIJI was a brat, probably because at the age of five he received all of his past memories and was very very sour at how his second past life turned out. I mean, how unfortunate must someone be that the love of their life gets reincarnated as a baby and as their grandchild?! That unfortunate soul must be Gojo since it had obviously happened to him.

But thankfully, in this life, he had no siblings and there was no one in his clan with the name Y/n Gojo.

He was relieved, but that didn't stop his brattiness. Most likely because he was only five years old and wasn't allowed to leave the estate. Don't those fools realize he has the six eyes and can take care of himself?!

And now, at the age of 16, the clan elders were still adamant of keeping him indoors.

They won't let him leave no matter what his age is. Jeez! The nerve of some people!

"Master, may I come in?"

He scrunched his nose up at the voice behind his door, but let them in anyway.

"Just don't disturb my reading," he called out, obviously in a bad mood as he usually was.

His maid came bustling in, her head bowed as she gave him a small smile.

"Why are you bothering me today," he asked with an unamused expression and monotone voice. His eyes never tearing away from his book.

His maid brushed off his attitude and answered him.

"The clan elders felt that it was time to get you a maid that was the same age as you. So after searching for one they finally settled on a well mannered and quiet village girl. For the past few weeks I have been personally training her so that you won't be disappointed."

"Whatever, just bring them in already and leave."

His now ex-maid bowed and left his room and a few moments later, he heard the soft footsteps of another come in. The brief scent of vanilla filling his nose.

"H- hello, master Gojo, my name is y/n and I'll be serving as your maid from now on, i- I hope that that is alright with you.."

He turned in his chair, his eyes focused on y/n almost immediately the moment her name left her mouth.

It's her.

He wanted to hug her. Kiss her. Hold her close. He wanted to laugh or cry. He wanted to do many things. But he knew he couldn't not now. Not yet. I mean, he didn't want to scare her away after all.

"Y/n, huh?"

"Yes, master."

He couldn't stop his smile. His eyes shining with a joy that was lost on him ages ago. It truly had been forever since he last saw her.

Not to mention that she wasn't related to him and she would be working closely to him. For him. He couldn't ask for anything else honestly.

"I'm expecting great things from you then, y/n."

To be honest, she could be the worst maid ever to exist and he would still keep her by his side. He loved her after all.

And who knows, maybe this time their happy ending may finally come.

Infinity taglist | @whore-for-hawks @esthelily @huicitawrites @flaming-vulpix @zeniiis @rin1802 @mrowwww

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere satoru gojo #yandere gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo

[apompkwrites]

the broken kingscholar || leona kingscholar

masterlist characters: falena (platonic) genre: angst contains: reader is demeaned a lot, implied physical abuse, verbal abuse summary: the elders of the kingscholar palace drive (name) kingscholar away. away from palace life. away from their words. away from everything. notes: so this fic is labeled with falena as the character but will go under the leona masterlist along with leona's name on the title because leona doesn't really appear but it's still his family name and it is a part of the sibling series. also once again please keep in mind if you comment on a fic, i will only add you to that character's masterlist unless you specify all characters :)) parts: [og post] | [the lesser kingscholar (1)] | [the broken kingscholar (2)] | [the two kingscholars (2.5)] | [name pending (3)]

tired. that was the only word that could describe how you were feeling. except, you weren't tired in the same sense that leona was. no, you were drained. tired of being treated that you were.

it was that time of the day again. time for the elders to demean your very existence. they had the decency to do it in their own room. of course, that didn't matter much when your lessons ended and you were told to wait outside instead of going back to your room.

"honestly, prince/ss (name)... the nerve of that child..." ah, that was your etiquette teacher. she had no issue with insulting you to your face, albeit indirectly.

"oh, what did they do this time?" a voice you recognized as your magic teacher sighed.

"all of my lessons are going down the drain for them!" she complained. she probably threw her hands up in exasperation. she did that often. "each day they forget what i taught them! at this rate, they'll end up tarnishing the kingscholar name all on their own."

"ah, it's the same for you?" your magic teacher hummed. "they have been stuck on the basic lessons for magic. i fear king falena will be sorely disappointed when he visits them tomorrow..."

"basic lessons? as in the lessons that even the slums of the sunset savannah ace with flying colors?"

"exactly."

why...? why were they like this...? why did they find so much joy in your suffering?

...why did you even stand for it? why did you subject yourself to this treatment? you were a kingscholar! right?

the brief surge of motivation quickly left your body. you... could not call yourself a kingscholar. you could not put yourself on the same level your beloved brothers were on. they were leagues above you. they were the beloved princes of the savannah while you were... nothing. just the sand under their boots.

you know what? what's wrong with just leaving? you could start with this door.

you turned on your heels, quietly walking further and further from the elders' room. and the further you walked, the quieter their voices got. thank the seven they got quieter.

leave was all you heard in your ears. leave because it will get quieter. everything will get quieter.

quieter? yes, quieter. that's exactly what you want. quiet those words you could never escape from even in your own home.

leave. leave. leave leave leave leave leave leave.

you halted in your walking, stumbling back to reach your door. you hurried inside, ripping the sheets off your bed. they were torn a bit, remnants of your angered outbursts that were the only thing keeping you calm in the eyes of the public.

they were torn, sure, but they were intact to hold your essentials. laying them out on your bed, you got to work tossing some clothes onto them. you didn't need much, you could find some later.

your drawer was pulled out harshly, rattling against itself as if it were crying out in pain. your wallet was tossed inside carelessly, a few madol had fallen out and you quickly scooped them up. it wasn't much, but it should be enough for what you needed. what else--

"prince/ss (name)!" you jumped at the sudden shout and banging on your door.

"shit...!" you hissed under your breath, throwing your pillow over the sheets. you scrambled to hide the evidence of your plan, hoping that the way you would open the door would be enough to do so. before you could do anything more, your door was burst open.

"how many times must i drill this into your head?!" your etiquette teacher's voice pierced through the air. "a royal is expected to answer the call of their name! and now look! your chambers are unacceptable!"

ah, there it was. her infamous lectures she loved to end her lessons with all because she was unsatisfied with the results. you kept your head down, your chin almost tucked into your chest completely. all you had to do was bear it. bear with it because once they left...

you could leave.

"and haven't i told you that you must wait until you are dismissed?" she growled, leaning down to get at your level. she lifted your head, forcing your nose to line with hers as she stared into your eyes. "haven't i?"

"...yes, ma'am," you muttered, your nails digging into your palms.

"so why do you keep doing this?!" she snapped, her fingers that were holding your chin up moving to shove your head to the side. "how many times must we drill this into your thick skull?! how many times must we tell you this so that you will not be the downfall of the kingscholars?!"

"unless that's your goal," your magic teacher chimed in. "are you plotting to dismantle the kingdom from the inside?"

you...? dismantle the kingdom...? did they truly think that low of you...?

"...i take your silence as an admission of guilt," he snarled, standing beside your etiquette teacher.

this... was different. they were different. not once had they dared put their hands on you or direct magic towards you outside of lessons, let alone offensive ones. they had not dared to raise a hand to you because... that was what your brother commanded for them.

he made them swear to never lay a finger on you, so why? why are they doing this?

did... did falena go back on his word?

"we will not allow you to tarnish the kingscholar legacy," one of your teachers growled. at this point, you couldn't tell which one was speaking anymore. "from now on, we will drill these lessons into your head until you finally understand it."

"your chambers are unacceptable," the other teacher grumbled, kicking one of your clothes that you had tossed to the ground. "get this clean before tomorrow before king falena arrives. or else your lessons will be worse than they already will be."

you didn't know how long it took for them to leave, but they did. they slammed the remnants of the door behind them, uttering a spell under their breath to replace the broken wood.

if you stayed one more day... what would await you? now that the elders were willing to use force, what will they do to you? what would happen when you step into their quarters to begin your lessons?

you wouldn't make it out alive.

with trembling hands, you continued to throw necessities onto your bedsheets. you ended up with a few clothes to last a few days, ones that the elders had deemed "unfit for royalty" that you did not dare part with.

"...tonight," you declared to yourself, tying the bedsheet together to create a makeshift bag.

you could only hope the kingscholar name thrives for the sake of your brothers. your brothers and no one else.

"your majesty?" a voice called from the other side of the door, lightly tapping at the wood. "your majesty?"

"mmgh..." falena groaned in response, tossing in his bed and throwing his arm over his eyes. he dreaded this day, yet also looked forward to it.

for one, it was another day without leona. for all the grief he gave him, falena would miss having him around the castle. having him whisked off in a black carriage to a place he could not follow forced him to come to terms with the fact that his precious little brother was not so little anymore.

no longer could he reminisce on the times when he and his little siblings would run through the castle's halls, avoiding their father with every twist and turn. no longer could he reminisce on times when his little siblings would gang up on him because he always had the best reactions when a beetle was tossed onto his back or a maggot was placed in his hair.

he could no longer have that, but at least he still had his baby sibling. they were yet to reach the age to be eligible to enter night raven college so he could cherish their time just a little bit more.

"your majesty! i... am sorry to bother you but you must get ready for the day! prince/ss (name) is awaiting your arrival!"

ah, speaking of. falena tossed his sheets off his body before rolling off the bed, letting out a groan when his body hit the floor.

"your majesty?!"

"i'm okay!" he called as he pushed himself up. "i'm... i'm okay! i'll be right there!"

it didn't take him long to get ready. it was the same routine every morning. get his clothes from his closet, all of them were the same so he never had a choice. brush his hair, once again, he had a set hairstyle that rid him of choice.

"(name) is in their room, i assume?" he hummed to the attendant outside his door, brushing away the sand in his hair.

"yes, your majesty. they are scheduled to begin lessons after your visit," they informed him, bowing their head.

"so... the longer i stay the later their lessons begin?" falena hums to himself, earning a nod from the attendant.

"of course, sire."

"perfect!" before the attendant could continue, falena was already rushing down the hall. every day he had passed his sibling's room, hoping to fit time to visit them. alas, nothing had gone his way. every day the elders had more tasks for him to complete that took up a majority of the day. and when he did have time off, (name) had already been whisked away to complete their lessons for the day.

"your majesty!" he heard as he ran down the halls. he ignored their desperate calls, a bright smile already plastered on his face. oh, it had been so long since he had seen them and, hopefully, it would not be the last.

"(name)!" he called excitedly as he reached their door, hurriedly tapping his knuckles on the wood. "wake up! i'm supposed to check on your progress, but maybe we could sneak out into town like we used to! how does that sound, huh?"

he continued to ramble his plans as he reached down to grasp their doorknob, twisting it and pulling open their door.

"or how about we take a walk around the gardens? leona isn't here with us but i'd like to think i can give enough "brotherly advice" if you need..."

what he was greeted with was not his sibling awake in their room or their body curled up in blankets. what he was met with was their disheveled room. their blankets and sheets were missing from their bed and their pillows were tossed around. their cloest was wide open with a few clothes scattered about the floor. it looked as if it had been ransacked.

and most importantly, there was no (name) to be found.

"...(name)?" falena managed to utter, slowly walking into the room. he stepped around the articles of clothes on the ground towards their desk. the items on top were left undisturbed while the drawers were wide open. a single piece of parchment paper was placed there with a single message written hastily in ink.

don't look for me.

as falena stared at the message, all he could hear was the shrill voice of his beloved sibling. their high-pitched squeal of laughter when they were children echoed in his mind and their bright toothy smile that was only just growing in their sharp canines was all he could see.

"falena! you should have seen your face! it was just a beetle! it won't hurt!"

"falena! leona! can we go to town again? we can sneak out tonight!"

"wha?! you're gonna be king already, falena? you won't forget to spend time with leo and me, right? promise?"

"(name)!" he finally cried out, running out of their room and towards the entrance to the castle. he threw the doors open and yelled out to them once more.

never before had he felt this panicked. never before did he think that there would come a time when he was alone in the castle, none of his precious siblings to be found.

and yet here he was, all alone because one was off to school and the other was... only the seven knew where.

"(name), g-good joke!" falena stammered as he paced through the streets, ignoring the calls of his attendants behind him that begged him to return to the castle. "haha, very funny...! leona isn't here, s-so you can't laugh at me with him!"

his cries were only met with shocked and pitied stares from his subjects.

"this... this is getting out of hand, (name)! father... father would scold you if he were here right now! but... but i won't tell him if you come out now! i promise!"

more silence.

gods, he couldn't stand this silence.

"(name)! please come back!" he sobbed into his hands as he fell to his knees. he had so much he wanted to say to get them to come back.

i'll do anything! just come back! i'm sorry! i'm sorry for not being a better brother! i'm sorry for being so busy! i'm sorry you've been alone all these years, so please! please come back!

quiet... they had left and it was so quiet.

falena hated how quiet it was with them gone.

taglist: @brokenncrown @help-meplz @destinationdesignation @rainys-personal-garden

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland angst #twst angst #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland leona x reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #leona x reader #twisted wonderland leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona kingscholar #twst leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x reader

[sm-baby]

Able strikes me as… the kind of person that does things right naturally. Like for the carnival AU, I bet in real life he was just good at everything without even trying. Everyone likes him, he’s just great in his own, I bet him and Caine even look similar, like the kind where the real only difference is maybe height, and style.

Caine is the younger brother that is jealous, he is extremely jealous even if he doesn’t want to be. He wants to be content with himself, but it is so damn hard with a sibling that even unintentionally looms over you. Getting mistaken for them at places, and when people meet you it’s always “Oh you’re Able’s brother” or “oh I hope you’ll be like him” and it’s a little flattering but mostly discouraging mentally. He wants to be like Able, but he knows he can’t.

Like a couple years back when my sister graduated a year early in high school, literally a cyber expert by the time she got out, and already years in on collage work, meanwhile I was your average struggling student, so even though she’s my favorite older sibling, we look similar, sound similar, hell, some people have mistaken me for her but with shorter hair. I know that having someone loom over you like that, someone everyone likes, everyone loves, and is just better in every way, it makes you go to the darkest places at times.

And that’s just me— from what you’ve said of Caine’s family, they just seem toxic. Caine if five times better than me and even my older sister who’s amazing, he knows so many languages and is so awesome in general, yet his parents have the nerve to do his. Sometimes I feel like I’m in a fucked up yin-yang sibling story, so I can really sort of relate to what u assume Caine is going through. It’s hard when you have similar interests, looks, and so much more with someone, yet everyone just loves them, and not you, and you have no clue why. And you want to be proud, you are proud, you’re happy, but some part of you deep inside just wishes you didn’t exist, or that the person you’re always compared to didn’t exist, so then no one would be able to compare you. Sometimes it’s obvious, people saying the differences, other times it’s fully a mental thing, I never was compared to my older sister by parents, but it’s a like a part of me knew that I was insignificant.

If it’s anything like the personal relationship I have with this person in my life, Caine and Able are close, but there are moments where it just bubbles through, the destain and/or harsh thoughts finally get to the surface of the water. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an argument because Caine snapped at Able and started talking about how damn great Able is to everyone. My older sibling seems a bit like Able, and she never was forced into being perfect, it’s just natural for them. It’s a rocky relationship, when you know you love that person, that sibling means the world to you, but there’s that envy in part of you. I would sort of like it if this is expanded on more, maybe just a bit because I find it somewhat personal, you don’t have to, but I think it would be interesting if this was specifically shown somewhere. Siblings relationships are tough, but I personally know that… this particular style, the kind of sibling relationship I have with that one older sibling and the relationship Caine and Able have, is extremely hard. Because it never goes away, that spite and the small bit of hatred, but you just have to live with it, you blame yourself for your shortcomings, it never leaves, but you still stay close. They’re still your favorite person, still someone that you feel like you can share everything with, and you learn that you can’t get over those bad feeling, they just exist.

…I really need to stop writing when I’m half asleep. Might continue on how Carnival Pomni is similar to me, next time I’m half asleep and typing/j

*pat pat* it will definitely be touched upon... Im too proud of Caine's writing to leave him in the dark... Im so happy you relate to him that way, and Im sorry to hear how rocky your relationship is with your sister. Best of luck to both of you <3

[drpoisonoaky]

Therapy homework, fire siblings edition

Azula and Zuko have to share moments from their childhood in order to heal their relationship (therapy homework), even as they are there for each other.

In my own personal Azula’s redemption arc, Zuko is there helping her sister in the same way he got help.

So they talk about everything because they’re healing and they need to do it.

[Turtle ducks]

Zuko: I think those two are playing together.

Azula: Or they’re fighting to decide who will become the Turtle Lord.

Zuko: Don’t project your trauma onto turtle ducks. 

Azula: I was not. It’s a very real and possible situation in the turtle duck world.

Zuko: I am going to ignore that because I was wondering why you hate them.

Azula: I don’t hate them.

Zuko: You threw rocks at them every time we were here.

Azula:

Zuko: What?

Azula: That we never included me, you know? It was more like “Mom and Zuko and, oh, Azula is here”.

Azula: So I guess I want my mother to give me attention, and my child brain said “Let’s make chaos”.

Zuko: Oh… I’m sorry I…I never thought about it that way.

Azula: Don’t punish yourself Zuzu. We were children. It wasn’t your job.

Zuko: But now we can feed them together, right? No rocks, only bread.

Azula: You really are a softie. It’s annoying.

Zuko: Let’s take the bread.

[Children]

Zuko: Do you want kids?

Azula: Not really. You do?

Zuko: One. Only one.

Azula: Did I traumatize you Zuzu?

Zuko: Yes, but no. If I had a kid, I want to focus on them, giving them all of my love and support. Being the Firelord and doing that for more than one child it’s impossible.

Azula: Oh, you really think about this… I hate to say it, but you would be a great dad.

Zuko: Thanks. I appreciate it. Why don't you?

Azula: First of all, it would have to be adopted, so the kid comes with baggage. And with my baggage, I probably couldn’t be there as much as the kid needs. It’s not fair to them. I can’t put the happiness of some child behind my own selfishness.

Zuko: Cool aunt?

Azula: I’m going to spoil your child so much that they’ll be as insufferable as you are.

Zuko: Of course you will.

[Fire resistance]

Katara: Hey firebenders, I have a question. Do you really resist fire better by nature or…?

Azula: Yes and no. 

Zuko: I mean, look at my face. 

Katara: That’s why I’m asking. Why do you resist less than ‘Zula? I swear she could be on fire and not notice.

Azula: We didn’t have the same training. Mother stopped Ozai a lot for the both of us. But when she was gone…

Zuko: I was banished when he started his fire resistance methods…

Katara: but ‘Zula don’t.

Azula: I was burned every day in every place except the face. Well, you saw the marks.

Sokka: Why not the face?

Suki: Don’t be rude.

Azula: It was because I was a princess after all, and you know we had to be pretty and perfect.

Katara: And how do you get high pain tolerance from that?

Azula: I guess some nerves died along the way or maybe my brain learned to ignore that kind of pain…I don’t know. 

Azula: I hate him, but in battle it’s really useful. But yeah, don’t try it at home, kids.

Sokka: So if we try to burn your fac-

Katara: Don’t you dare, asshole.

[Crying]

Katara: Did they cry much when they were babies?

Azula: I bet Zuzu was insufferable.

Zuko: I was a pretty nice baby.

Ursa: You were nice, but you cried a lot.

Azula: See.

Ursa: And you weren't nice at all, young lady. But truth to be told, she didn’t cry.

Zuko: Lack of emotions, I see.

Azula: Not dumbass, it was for the balance between you and me.

Katara: She didn’t cry at all? What would happen if she was hungry or hurt herself?

Ursa: She just waited.

Azula: Of course I did that, crying change nothing. Plus, it wasn’t allowed.

Zuko: What do you mean?

Azula: Oh right, that was one of the points of our “educational differences”.

Ursa: Azula?

Azula:

Katara: Azula?

Azula: Fine.

Azula: Father didn’t really like the tears. He said that water isn’t something that should exist around a firebender. So I didn’t cry.

Katara: …but what if you did by any chance?

Azula, smiling sadly: He turned into my personal dryer. Goodbye tears.

Ursa: *gasp* But when you were a child he neve-

Azula: Don’t worry mother… It's not your fault.

Zuko: We should try to cry together anytime you want. As a therapy exercise, of course.

Azula: I-…thanks Zuzu.

Katara: And I hope he knows that you are around water all the time and he can’t do shit.

Azula: Of course master Katara, best master water bender of all times.

Zuko: Mom, we should go. They had started their own weird flirting thing.

Katara:

Azula: 

Katara: What are you waiting for? Keep going.

[Compliments]

Aang: I know It’s none of my business, but I was wondering why some compliments make you look awkward but on the opposite sides. *Points at Azula and Zuko*

Zuko: What do you mean?

Aang: Like Azula takes it so well when we say something nice about her bending or her looks but she’s weird when it’s not about that. And you get so weird when we compliment your looks or your bending. Like a yin and yang kinda thing.

Azula: Easy. I was praised for everything Zuko isn’t.

Aang: What do you mean?

Azula: I’m a prodigy and a princess. Being an excellent firebender and looking pretty at the same time is or was my job. Zuzu is a mediocre firebender, under Father’s eyes, and he burned half of his face. 

Zuko: And ‘Zula never was praised for being anything else. 

Aang: But that’s awful.

Azula: I didn’t need to be anything apart from that, Zuko was banished. That’s life.

Sokka: No, it’s not. Your father it’s a piece of shit.

Katara: And I hope we never see him again. No offense.

Azula and Zuko: None taken.

[Giving Affection]

Katara, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic: I don’t know if it’s awkward to ask you that.

Zuko: …Go on.

Katara: Okay, so when you get out of the fire nation. Do you flinch?

Zuko: …Did I flinch?

Katara: General affection. 

Zuko: Not really. My mother used to hug me a lot and you know Iroh. 

Katara: …and who hugged Azula?

Zuko: Mom before disappearing, I guess? Me on some special days. I don’t know if our father ever did that.

Azula: Neither of them. Did you go to Zuzu to get information about me? 

Katara: I want to know “your background” from another point of view.

Azula: I hate that that is a logical move. But to answer that, maybe Ty Lee was the only one. And you know Mai.

Zuko: Didn’t Mom hug you?

Azula: Do you remember that little detail that mother hated me? 

Zuko: She didn’t ha-

Azula: Don’t. Please. We already passed that point.

Katara: So it’s decided.

Azula: What?

Katara: I’m now your personal koala, whether you want it or not. Come here.

Azula: But you do more things…

Zuko: And that’s my cue to get out of here.

[Education]

Aang: Wait, really, you know it all?

Azula: Of course, it was part of my education. I need to know history, especially anything related to war, but knowledge is knowledge.

Aang: But Zuko didn’t know anything about the Air Nomads' history.

Azula: We didn’t have the same education.

Zuko: Basically because Azula is a nerd.

Azula: Excuse me.

Zuko: After you did your homework, you started to read about everything, especially history. That’s why.

Aang: So she's more prepared than you.

Azula: I am. While Zuzu cried, I trained or focused on my studies. Time is gold in war.

Katara: You didn’t rest?

Azula: Not really, but sometimes I needed to rest in order to continue. 

Zuko: No you don’t. You can’t count that as resting. 

Aang: What, why?

Zuko: It’s not my call. Sorry. But you should explain it ‘Zula.

Katara: Azula?

Azula: What Zuzu means is that the “rest days” weren’t really optional.

Aang: Oh, they force you to rest?

Azula: Not exactly…I have to rest because I couldn’t move. Training wasn’t always…educational.

Zuko: Call it what it was. That shitty excuse of man made us fight against him and beat us until we faint.

Aang: Spirits.

Zuko: And I guess me being gone didn’t make him less reckless…

Azula: Quite the opposite…that’s why learning was fun. 

Azula: But anyways Zuzu you should learn that so from now on I’m going to teach you history, physics and math. Be aware.

Zuko: Only if we take rest days. Real ones.

Azula: Don’t be lazy.

[Wake up time]

Katara: I can’t beat Azula.

Sokka: But you did remember…Oh, spirits, don’t tell me is a dirty-

Katara: NO. 

Katara: Also not in that way, dummy. I can’t get up earlier than her. It's like every time I wake up early and say “Wow, today I really got up early” she’s already awake and meditating or something. 

Ty lee: I tried for a week. Then I got tired.

Mai: It’s a losing battle. You can’t beat them.

Katara: Wait, does Zuko also wake up early?

Mai: Every day, like if he makes the sun or something.

Azula, arriving from sparring with Zuko: Talking behind my back isn’t new, but still hurts a little. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Why do you wake up so early? Both of you.

Azula, raising an eyebrow: Why do you ask?

Zuko: Why do you wake up so late? 

Katara: Don’t answer a question with a question. Both of you don’t know the concept of oversleeping or even slacking. Why?

Zuko: What are you ta-…Oh. 

Zuko: Lala, do you remember the “If you wake up after the sun…

Azula: …how do you pretend to use his flames”. 

Katara: Oh no.

Mai:

Ty lee: That jerk.

Zuko: So we have to stop.

Azula: I’m going to knock myself out every morning, I swear. 

Zuko: Same.

Katara: Or instead of me waking up next to my unconscious girlfriend, you could try not getting out of bed.

Zuko: You mean stay in bed until the sun is up so we can train later?

Katara: I mean yeah. At least until you wake up like a regular human being.

Sokka: But that would imply they are regular human beings and we-AH STOP.

Azula, shooting little lightning at him: Sorry what?

Zuko, burning his butt: We are having difficulties hearing you.

Sokka: KATARA HELP YOU BROTHER.

Katara, ignoring Sokka and talking to Mai and Ty lee: So you two also like to wake up late?

Sokka: KATARA.

Ty lee: Yes, but it doesn’t fit the Kyoshi Warriors’ lifestyle. And that makes Suki angry with me, a lot.

#avatar the last airbender #azula #atla #fire siblings #zuko #katara #azutara #trauma bonding #i guess #they are my babies #my traumatized babies #ty lee #sokka #suki #turtle ducks #aang #ursa #mai #maiko #kazula

[mattphobiia]

OPPOSITES ATTRACT.

this was now the beginning of my second year in university and although i knew the layout of the place well, everything felt more terrifying. i know that this isn't like shitty high school where everyone thrives off the drama created but i won't lie, these people are adults but seem more immature and worse than your average student in a school. there was this guy called chris sturniolo and we definitely had some heated arguments that nearly turned into physical fights and it didn't help that i was best friend's with his brothers, nick and matt. i adored them both but i had a stronger connection with matt due to the fact we both were awkward as fuck along with our matching crippling anxiety. i felt like i could tell him anything and he would never judge, but it wasn't one of those romantic crush scenarios. we were strictly best friends and we both liked it that way!

i await outside my porch, waiting to see that familiar car matt had always driven until i see it, making my nerves calm down for a minute until i saw that stupid face of chris, and my mood was brought back down again. i sigh, rolling my eyes in annoyance as i began to approach the car, slipping into the backseat with nick as we all began to talk, apart from chris. i mean, i did feel his cold stare dig holes through me through the rearview mirror but i make an effort to ignore it. so what if he didn't like me? matt and nick did, and i only wanted to talk to them anyway. unlike chris, i had way more in common with them both regarding hobbies and interests. for example, matt and i hated going to parties and loud events while chris seemed to live off that shit. none of us had ever smoked, apart from chris. chris was your typical "bad influence" friend, but he looked good doing it. yeah i hated him, but i guess he was attractive. it was mainly the hair doing it for me, his personality is definitely ugly as fuck, which made me giggle thinking about it.

"why the fuck are you laughing to yourself? goddamm weirdo." chris mutters, looking back at me with the dirtiest expression i had ever seen, which made my heart beat with anger.

"because i can. now turn around and stop looking at me with such a dirty face, clean your grubby ass up before talking to me." i reply proudly, chris only rolling his eyes before slumping back into the car seat while matt and nick chuckled to themselves.

matt finally pulled up into the parking lot, all of us procrastinating getting out of the car after a long enjoyed break from this shit hole. i keep my distance with chris, standing close to matt as our arms slightly touched together while we walked, it was our way of reassurance, a small intimate act like this definitely calmed us both down for the better. we began to approach the announcement board only to see that there was a lecture in the hall basically recapping our last year before we broke up, and i sighed with embarrassment. the university always had this tradition of sharing all of the students positive and negative feedback we get on our behaviour, whether it be fights, chatting unnecessary shit, or just anything embarrassing in the hopes to stop students from misbehaving but it never worked.

after the humiliating recap lecture of all of the students behavioural issues, matt and i sat in our secret area that barely anyone knew existed, chris and nate sat on the other side trying to avoid me. chris obviously would tell nate about me and how he seemed to hate me. nate was a nice guy but he tried his best to avoid me for chris' sake.

i lean my head against matt's shoulder, peering down at his phone screen while i watched him scroll through tiktok, like usual. chris always used the fact that since we were this close we may as well date, but it honestly wasn't like that. we just felt like we were siblings, and we would never date. i made that very clear to chris, but he still always found a way to make my blood boil even if he was just sneaking a smug glance at me.

chris and nate were mainly just talking about skating after they had finished their course work and getting high, but i wasn't surprised. i always wanted to learn how to use a skateboard, but always felt like i could never because i knew damn well chris would rather push me off a cliff than do anything like that with me. i mean, nate probably would but i couldn't be bothered to deal with him especially because of his bossy attitude. matt knew how to skate and would probably teach me if i asked, but he never really done it anymore as he already owned a car, while nick... is just nick. he would probably start screaming as he would go down on a ramp and fall flat on his face, which that would be funny.

"stop staring at me weirdo." chris shouts over at me, making me jolt upwards in confusion. turns out while i was zoned out, i was just admiring chris the whole time, fuck.

"shut up, whiny ass bitch." i reply, rolling my eyes in response as i lean my head back down onto matt, who was now playing a mobile game, not paying attention to his surroundings.

"i am not whiny, your annoying ass voice is though." he states, beginning to smirk as he bit the side of his cheek trying to hide his smile.

"at least i don’t have an ugly tattoo." i sneer, pointing at one of his tattoos on his left forearm, making him look down in disapproval.

"whatever, maybe get some tattoos to hide that boring personality like matt." he says, matt's head immediately snapping upwards with the mention of his name, glaring at chris before he rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to nate who was chuckling at our interaction.

"ignore him." matt whispers, making me turn my head to him before nodding in response, leaning my head back against him. "he's only just trying to fuck around with you, don't let him win."

"i know, hes just... so fucking annoying." i huff, he only laughed while he lifted his arms, motioning for me to lay my head on his lap. "how do you cope with him?"

"he's my brother, first of all. but sometimes i do want to smash his face with a frying pan. he is a literal chatting machine." he says dramatically, the both of us beginning to laugh heavily while both boys looked over at us like we were fucking crazy.

i had just about survived all these long ass lectures, somehow matt and i being halfway across the classroom which made us both feel uneasy, but also having chris right behind me. i could tell he was staring me down and i hated it, but i managed. according to some girl called brittany, theres a party being hosted nearby and everyone was invited. when i told matt, i immediately knew his answer when chris just had to persuade him to go last minute, but i knew that i wouldn't want him to go through it alone. when chris says "he'll be by his side", he means that matt would just be alone in the corner while chris was getting absolute shitfaced and there was no way i would let him do that.

"well, if matt is going then so am i. you're just going to get wasted the whole time and leave matt feeling awkward. fuck that." i add, slowly stroking matt's arm before giving him a warm smile, which made him feel safe.

"whatever, go be with your little boyfriend like a clingy little loser." chris rolls his eyes in disgust, walking off as he slams the door shut to his room.

"for fucks sake, why does chris always think we are dating?" i shout angrily, leaning my head into his chest as he pulls me into a soft hug.

"he's jealous of our bond. hes just a fuck boy who loves to hurts everyone while i actually care about you. no, i dont want a relationship with you but i love you like my sister." he smirks.

"how cute, matthew." i smile, tapping the tip of his phone with my finger as he lets out a laugh. "wanna get ready now? for this stupid party?"

"i guess, i know deep down we are both dreading this." he sighs, wondering off to his room as he watched me nod before i quickly rushed into mine.

MASTERLIST / P2 , P3 , P4

a/n: this is only part 1, keep a look out for part 2🥴 LOOOL anyways work is so stressful rn so this could take awhile but i got alot of drafts atm sooo i may upload some of them:) hope all my followers enjoy these 🤗🤗🤗 also i dont rlly proof read them at all bc im lazy asf so my bad if theres any errors or if it dont make sense

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo

[sophsicle]

Ooooh I saw you answer that question about writing advice and became curious: do you write “original” fiction as well as fanfiction? (love that for you either way). Love your fics btw. Kill Your Darlings is my absolute jam 🥰

I do yeah!

i don't really do anything with it but it does exist!

i shared the first chapter of one of them on here a while ago i think? i can't find the post now but i'll throw it down below if you're interested! Also thank you im so glad you like kyd!!!!

Ram

I think my father made the trees without mouths on purpose. For if they could talk, all of creation would know his secrets. Of course, in the end, perhaps it is better not to know. Kinder for him to keep us in the dark. Knowing is an anchor, it will drown you. That is why, on quiet days, you will hear the distant sounds of forests weeping. 

There’s a disturbance behind me. Nothing loud or startling—a slight rustle, a breath, the scrape of a leather boot. It is subtle and that is why I do not trust it. Never trust anything that is trying to be quiet. Without thinking my hand goes to my bow, an arrow in place by the time I turn around. 

Montoya laughs, holding his arms up, mocking me. He is dark, my brother, all the way through. 

“Scared, Ram?”  

I know instantly that I did not catch him. He wanted to be found. 

“No,” I answer flatly, “just prepared.” 

Montoya laughs again, bleeding an ease that I have never been able to find myself. Perhaps it is the sort of thing that comes with age. Though when you’re thousands of years old how much difference can a few centuries make?

“Your arms must be getting tired brother,” he says casually, and it is only then that I realize my weapon is still drawn. With reluctance I lower it, returning the arrow to the quiver on my back. 

“Why are you here?” this time I cannot hide my irritation.

“I could ask you the same question.”

I give him a flat look. Of all my siblings, Montoya has always made me the most ill at ease. There’s something about his eyes that leaves me wary. They are gapping holes that you swear will swallow you up and never set you free. 

“You are a terribly dull conversationalist Ram, has anyone ever told you that?” 

I don’t take the bait.

“Tsk tsk, what would father say about these manners huh? You’ve been spending too much time amongst the trees brother, you’re starting to turn into one.”

Not all my siblings can fly. My younger sister, Cartha, has gills instead of wings, and my brother Sye hates having his feet off the ground. But most of us, in some form or another, find ourselves in the sky. Montoya’s wings are large and crow like, hardly subtle or practical, but then, neither is he. Even now they create enough wind that I can feel myself fighting not to be pushed backwards. My own wings are small and white and sprout from my ankles.  

“Well,” I say finally, “if that’s all.” I turn my back on him, a dangerous move I’ll admit, though to his credit, Montoya has never attacked the family. He did, however, kill our sister’s cat once. 

I can hear him following me, hear the beating of his great wings. The noise grates my nerves. He is insufferable and there is nothing I can do about it. Sure, I could fight him, I’m good with a bow, but in truth, my brother is stronger. Besides, a fight is what he wants. It tickles him to make me angry. That’s his whole game. 

“Why so gloomy brother?” he asks, flipping onto his back as he pulls up beside me. I have never heard him be anything but taunting and cruel. I wonder if there was a time when he was not like this, but Hario assures me that there wasn’t and she is the oldest. Still, I find it hard to believe. After all, why would father create a son so hateful?

“I’m always gloomy,” I retort, keeping my gaze forward. 

It is spring, the sun setting and lighting the sky on fire with oranges and pinks. They reach out like fingers from the horizon, as if desperate to hold onto the day. 

“Well that is certainly true. Our melancholy little Ram,” he says in a baby voice that makes me want to spear him through the throat.  

“If I am melancholy what does that make you?” 

“Jolly?” 

I cannot help myself, I laugh. The idea that anyone would describe Montoya as jolly is too much for me.

“No, you’re right,” he says, sounding not at all offended. “Jolly is perhaps too dull a word, I am witty.” 

I look at him, brow arched. “Witty,” I repeat flatly. 

He grins, or perhaps sneers is more accurate. “Certainly wittier than you.” 

“Certainly.” 

“And our dear brothers and sisters.” 

“Certainly,” I repeat, though my jaw is clenched and my nails have begun burrowing into my palms. 

“I expect that is why father holds my opinion in such high regard.” 

“Not as high as Hario's.” The small flash of anger in his eyes is satisfying, though he maintains his smile. 

Hario is undeniably our father’s favourite. In truth, she is my favourite too. I have never been very good at getting close to people, but I have always felt comfortable around her. I can speak to her, tell her things in a way I can’t tell anyone else. 

“Not as high as Hario's,” Montoya repeats, the mockery from earlier melting away, revealing something much sharper. Much more dangerous. He might play at pettiness but I know that, in reality, he is far more sinister. “For now, anyway.” 

I stop abruptly, as though an invisible wall has suddenly appeared in my way. When Montoya finally stops too, turning to face me, I see a glint in his dark eyes. He’s won. Gotten the reaction he wanted. Snuck himself under my skin.  

“What is that supposed to mean?” I demand. 

“Ooh,” he is clearly enjoying himself, “have I hit a nerve?”

When he smiles I swear he has the teeth of a wolf, and in the setting sun they sparkle. I do not know why my father made him, why he poured all his ill will into this one creation and then named it son. A common misconception is that because there are gods there must also be demons. If I am the creator of all, my father always says, why would I create evil? Yet staring at Montoya now, at his black eyes, and pointed teeth, the sky ablaze behind him, I do not struggle to understand why the humans believe in a devil. 

“Do not make idle threats brother,” I say, attempting to keep my tone level. 

I’m playing right into his hands, I know, but I’ll not have Hario threatened. Not by anyone. He smirks, eyes running me slowly up and down before he moves forward, pausing just close enough that I can smell his breath.  

“I promise you,” his voice is so quiet it’s nearly carried away by the wind, “my threats are not idle.” He pauses, before laughing. “Brother.” 

His great wings flap, disturbing the trees below us as he flies higher in the sky.

“Father wishes you to know that he was much displeased that you missed his last banquet,” Montoya shouts as he continues to rise. “If I were you, I would not miss the next one.” 

I watch as he grows fainter and fainter, becoming nothing more than a black blip in the distance. I don’t move. I’m afraid that if I do the anger in me will unleash a hurricane. Quite literally. We are, all of us, me and my brothers and sisters, in possession of an affinity for one of the four elements: air, earth, water, fire. My element is air, Montoya and Hario both master fire. 

I force myself to take in several deep breaths, stretching out my hands which have cramped from being clenched so hard. There is a rage in me that I fear, I don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there, but it sits always in the corner of my chest. I have worked my whole life to suppress it, to keep it locked up inside me so that it can never hurt anyone else. Most of the time I succeed. But Montoya brings out the worst in me. 

I take another breath, the sun is almost gone now and the sky is navy blue and made of velvet. Slowly I start moving again, without really knowing where. I dip lower to the ground so that the tops of the trees brush my skin. I run my hands through them, they are cool now that the sunlight has fled. There shouldn’t be anyone out here to catch me, I’m miles from the nearest human site, but I keep a watchful eye on the ground anyway.

I have always hated my father’s banquets, even in my first days of life. There are too many beings, too much noise, and the way they all look at me…I take no pleasure in the power my father has given me, in the authority that comes with it. The other creations stare at us, or bow, offering up gold and wine and sometimes blood. I cringe at the thought. I have never once felt worthy of the deference they show us. In fact, it makes my skin prick and itch. I am not a leader or a ruler, I never have been. I prefer to watch from a far. In truth, I have always gotten the distinct impression that I am somewhat of a disappointment to my father. 

I close my eyes and drift for a moment, letting the air hold me like a pair of arms, cradling me in the night sky. There is sweat covering my skin, it drips slowly down my arms and legs and the side of my face, sending shivers across my bones. I breathe in again, slowly, listening to my heartbeat, to the expansion of the lungs in my chest. Somewhere a dog howls and a bird cries out. Their voices are faded by distance but they linger long after they are let loose. Hanging in the air just like me. This is where I am happiest, alone in the dark.

This is where I belong.

Edward

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. I don’t know how she could have. But I suppose, ultimately, it’s of little consequence. She brought with her a dowry too good to refuse, one which provided the Kingdom of Presado with enough ships and gold that it could boast of having the largest naval force this side of the world. And in return, her people gained the loyalty of my grandfather, one of the greatest military commanders alive, an excellent ally. Love was hardly considered. It never is. You cannot win a war with love, you cannot build palaces or feed hungry mouths with love. So why do we persist in the belief that it is so very important to our happiness? Why do we speak of it in the context of marriage and family when we know that it is so rarely present in either of those establishments? 

I don’t know if my mother ever loved my father. But I know that I certainly didn’t. 

I usually don’t bother with such thoughts but, staring at my own wedding contract, I find them hard to avoid. They say she is beautiful, the princess who is soon to be my wife, but then, they always say that. What use have I for a beautiful wife anyway? Mistresses are chosen for their beauty, I would rather my wife be clever. 

“She’s not a fanatic is she?” I ask my advisor, Rufus, as I look up from the pages in front of me for the first time in ages. My mother laughs and I meet her eye, grinning. Rufus simply looks startled. He’s a small man, with tuffs of hair coming out of his mostly bald head, and eyes that protrude so far from his face you fear they will fall onto the floor. He is wildly clever though. He was significantly under valued by my father, probably because he is in possession of a conscience. Skittish and odd he might be, but his loyalty lies firmly with the realm. A rarity, I have found. 

“A fanatic, your Majesty?” he squeaks. “What-er-what do you mean?” 

“Oh you know,” I wave my hand impatiently. “The type who never drinks or dances or laughs. Who always has their knees bent before some alter or another. Who cannot breathe without fearing for our souls.” 

My mother is shaking her head. As a child I loved to make her laugh. It was not a difficult task, my mother, for all her heartache, is a woman with a happy disposition. 

Rufus blinks his great eyes at me. “As far as I’m aware, sire, she possesses a perfectly…adequate…level of piety.” He looks to my mother for help but finds none. 

“You are going to be the death of him, Edward,” she says instead. 

My grin widens. “Come now, it was a fair question was it not?” I turn to Rufus knowing full well that he will splutter, unsure of what to say. And he does just that. “I don’t want to be stuck with a bore now do I?” 

“There are slightly more important factors to consider here my son, as I’m sure you are aware.” 

I am. Painfully so. I must marry Princess Analeigh whether she is a humourless hag or not. As with my mother and father, the alliance is a good one, and we are too weak to survive without it right now. Still, knowing all this, I cannot help but hesitate, especially when I see my father’s handwriting on the pages before me. He orchestrated the match, wrote most of the contract himself. But however unconcerned I may appear on the outside, I have spent hours pouring over these words and, grudgingly, I can find no fault in them. 

I sigh, resigned, stretching out my hand and dipping my quill in ink. 

“You’ll sign?” Rufus sounds half-relieved and half-shocked. Clearly he expected me to be more trouble. I try to hide my amusement. I know that my reputation is that of a scoundrel. A spoiled youth who drinks and gambles and whores. They think me ignorant. They think me incapable—the great men who have gathered in this court over the years. I don’t mind. Let them underestimate me. It will make it all the easier to knock them down.

My hand hovers over the parchment, the quill threatening to drip. I look back up at my mother, she is all in black, in mourning. It doesn’t suit her. Even in death my father is controlling us. What we wear. Who we marry. 

“This is the last time,” I don’t know why I say it out loud. I suppose to make the promise feel more real. He will not pull our strings again.

“The last time, your majesty?” Rufus asks, looking between us in utter confusion. 

My attention is not on him though, my eyes locked with my mother’s. She does not even flinch. 

“Yes,” she says, knowingly. “The last time.” 

I nod, returning to the contract while Rufus’s distress continues to mount. He has missed something, he knows it, and he does not like it. Finally, I let the quill touch the parchment, my hand moving swiftly along the familiar path of my name. 

“There,” I say, feeling the opposite of relief as I lean back in my chair and push it away from me. “It’s done.” 

Not my best line, I’ll admit it, and not even true. This is only the beginning. For a moment I think I catch a glimpse of my father hovering in the corner of the room—just the tail of his robes as he storms out the door, followed by the grizzled noise of his laugh. In my memories he is always old—old and bitter. I swallow, blinking the ghost out of my eyes as I sit up straighter. I do not know if I will make a better king, but gods, I hope I make a better man. 

“Excellent,” Rufus mutters, gathering up the papers. “Excellent, excellent, I’ll deliver these to the envoy and then things can proceed.” He slides from the wooden chair, the table nearly as high as his chest and when he bows his upper half disappears completely. 

“Your majesty,” he says as he re-emerges, “with your leave…” he looks towards the door. 

“Yes, of course, go about your business Rufus.” He starts backing away before the words are even fully out of my mouth, moving so quickly that I am shocked he does not trip. After the door closes we sit in silence, my mother with her eyes on me and me with my eyes on the far wall. 

“You look worried.” 

I snort. “Do I? Oh dear, I hope I don’t start to wrinkle.” 

She smiles, but I can tell she will not be so easily placated. “Edward?” 

“Mother.” 

She arches her brow, she has the incredible ability to look at you so thoroughly you feel your skin has been taken off and your insides entirely exposed. 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I rise and move towards the window. It is beautiful today—spring has come and the gardens are in full bloom. How I wish I was out hunting instead of caged up in here signing away my life. 

“The church will not be happy,” I say finally. 

“The church?” my mother responds after a brief pause, “Or Addison?”

“Is there a difference?” 

Another pause. I bring my finger up to the glass and begin to trace along the lines. My family’s crest has been meticulously woven through every inch of the palace, the windows no exception. 

“He agreed to the match,” my mother says finally. 

“Yes, but he will not be pleased that I signed it without him.” 

“No,” and I think I hear the slightest hint of amusement in her voice, “he will not.” 

In the last few years of his life, my father had a change of heart in terms of religion. Since before memory the people of Presado have prayed to the Solistic Church. A religion which believes the world was created by four gods who were masters of the elements. Ignis was always my favourite, the god of fire, who watched over battles and was considered the most clever of the four. I still pray to him, though my father’s laws forbid it. The laws that are now my own. 

The trouble really began with his last campaign in the North where a large clan of nomads have claimed territory. My father dreamed of being a conquerer King, dreamed of reclaiming the deserted northern territories from the barbarians. But this turned out to be far more difficult than he expected. 

He returned from the first campaign with only a third of his men, most of whom were injured. Things did not improve from there. After five years of loses and increased violence on the border—for the nomads had begun burning the keeps of the northern lords in retaliation—the nobles pushed back. We’re done, they declared, we will send you no more support, no more troops, no more gold. They were not willing to be wiped out for the sake of one man’s glory. Even if that man was the king. 

My father responded in the only way he knew how—with violence. Executions. Most heavily levied in the North, for they were the loudest denouncers of the war, being the ones closest to the fighting. There was peace with the nomads before, the would argue, can we not return to that? So, of course, my father hung their commanders, their sons, and, sometimes, the lords themselves. In truth, we were on the brink of a civil war when Addison appeared. No one is quite sure where he came from, there had been whispers for a few years about a counter religion but no one put much store in it. Then one day he was here, at my father’s side. He promised men and money, all he wanted in return was a reformation. My father agreed. After all, what had the old gods done for him?

“Edward?” 

I jump at the sound of my name, but I don’t turn around. My fingers still pressed to the glass in front of me, through the coloured panes I can just make out the green grass and manicured trees. 

“Mother.” 

I know the face she’s making even without looking at her. Calm, refined, but with worry in her eyes. And sadness. I sometimes wonder if he put that there, my father, if before him she was all light. I hope that now that he’s gone she will be again. 

“You cannot solve all the worlds problems in a single afternoon my son.” 

I nod as I hear her rise, feel her hand squeeze my shoulder as she passes by on her way to the door. 

“I’m not trying to solve the world’s problems,” I say as I hear it close, “just ours.” 

#soph rambles #writing

[deetz-ghuleh]

Terzo Re-Animated

─ Papa Emeritus III Terzo x F! Reader ─

rating: 18+ Explicit | MDNI

word count: 2.5k

summary: After having some trouble reaching your orgasm, you decide to pay your headless Papa a visit.

warnings/tags: necrophilia, decapitation, decapitated head, cunnilingus, masturbation, mention of blood, blood-sucking, blood-drinking, horror elements, death, dead body, feminine reader, reader has a vagina, use of sex toys, nudity, some humor.

a/n: Sorry not sorry! I had to write it! Inspired by my favorite horror film, Re-Animator. If you've seen the movie, you know where this is going. If you haven't, you might just have a wtf-did-I-just-read moment, so please read the trigger warnings/tags.  Also, a quick reminder that I do not condone any actions depicted in this fic, it is written for entertainment purposes only. Enjoy!

AO3 link

tag list: @ghu-leh @baelzbu @sodoswitchimage @ghuleh-recs @bupia @onlyhereforghost @mae-mei-m

Your orgasm was close. 

So, so close. 

With your mouth open in suspended pleasure, you rub little circles on your clit and push the vibrator inside your pussy in perfect rhythm.  

Almost there…

Almost…

Then it’s gone.

Sigh. 

You stand and rummage around for another vibrator on your nightstand, but it's not the one you prefer, and you're too lazy to leave the comfort of your cozy bedsheets to get a new pair of batteries.

As you flop back on your bed, memories of Terzo flood your mind. He was the one who taught you to indulge in sexual pleasure, always patient and willing to do whatever it took to make you cum multiple times. And his tongue. That fucking tongue would have you sobbing in pleasure, with your neck arched and toes curled. You fondly remember his unmatched iris flickering with passion and intensity at the sight of you. The way you desired each other was addicting, and no one else has made you feel the same since then. 

OK. Maybe that will do it. 

Closing your eyes, you bite your lip and begin rubbing at your clit again, sliding in and out your warmth with your middle finger. You imagine Terzo's cock thrusting into you again and again, the feeling of him filling you so deliciously, his heated kisses, the filthy words he would whisper in your ear.

But it's no use. Nothing is working.

And now the painful remembrance of his death has you wondering why you still hadn't visited him. It's been almost a year.

After his death, they kept his head in one of the Ministry's private galleries. Why they thought that was a good idea was beyond you, but it was one of those senior clergy decisions no one questioned. All you knew was that it made for a lot of improper jokes and unseemly behavior among your group of siblings. Some were too frightened to approach the gallery at all. Believable. A few others said they had sneaked in and played with his poor head like a football. The nerve! Your poor Papa. And others lied and said that he had talked to them. OK, sure, like they wouldn't just flee at the sight of a talking head! Even if it was Terzo. But your curiosity had been piqued nonetheless. You just never had the guts to go in and see it, see him, for yourself.

You don't know if it's your desperate need to cum, nostalgia, or both, but you feel motivated and decide it's time to pay him a long-awaited visit. 

You put on your robe and slippers and cautiously open your bedroom door. You peek outside and make sure no one is around. The halls are dark but dimly illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the large stained-glass windows, safe enough to help you through the shadowed corridors. Right away your senses are keenly attuned. It's dead silent - almost everyone is sleeping by now, save perhaps for some rowdy ghouls. Perfect.

You start walking, steadily at first, but the eeriness of the silent old abbey makes your feet accelerate, propelled forward by panic and anxiety. 

What the fuck is that? No one is following you, dumbass, just keep walking. The Eyeless Woman doesn't exist. Neither does Nihil's father's father's father's zombie.

The creepy tales you've heard since you joined the Ministry years ago had a way of creeping their way back into your mind whenever you were surrounded by darkness or heard some strange creaking sound around the corner. And the thought of seeing a decapitated head wasn't exactly helping your nerves.

You continue through the long hallways, trying your best not to get lost or dragged away by some harrowing creature.

You finally reach the gallery entrance and-

THIS DOOR IS TO BE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES. FOR SENIOR CLERGY ONLY. ENTERING WITHOUT PERMISSION IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. 

Of course, it'd be locked. Something your orgasm-starved brain forgot to tell you.

Fortunately, you brought your cell phone (totally not in case that awful creature managed to capture you). You knew Sister Rosaline had sneaked her way in months ago. 

A quick "Heyy are you up? I came to see Terzo, but it's locked. How did you get in??" text makes its way to her cellphone.

After a few moments of surveying your surroundings, biting your nails, and praying to Lucifer you don't get caught, she replies.

"__________, wtf. You don't usually text this late. You're there??"

"Yes. Please just tell me how you got in. It's so dark and creepy out here!!😭"

"Why didn't you tell me?? I would've gone with you! You can't go in through the front. There's a back entrance (it says "JANITOR CLOSET") and you have to jiggle it a bit, so it opens."

"Ok, I'll give it a try. Thanks, Rosy. 😗"

"Be careful!"

You make your way around the back and jiggle it just like she said. Nothing. 

You try again but with a lot more strength. Bingo. 

Quietly, you walk in and close the door behind you. Your hands wander around for a light switch. You find it and the lights amplify the room. An enormous collection of precious antiques, portraits, and rare books fill the walls and shelves. You take a moment to walk around and admire the grand opulence. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a handful of oil paintings depicting various images of Lucifer's victory over the archangels. Another one with a stunning elaborate frame you recognize as Goya's Witches' Sabbath. Next to that a large-scale canvas of the Emeritus family tree. Everything was so detailed and beautifully haunting. The place was a treasure trove of artifacts you want to spend all day exploring, but you need to focus. You came here for him. 

As you keep walking, you notice several glass coffins below an ornate plaque that reads MEMENTO MORIERIS. You step forward until you see the royal purple underlining peeking through his Papal robes. How did they keep him so perfectly preserved? Some intervention from the Dark One, perhaps. You notice his head is not tucked away or hidden, but placed right next to his corpse. For a dead guy, he still looked so unbelievably regal and beautiful. His makeup is pristine as if someone came every day to have it repainted. 

Before you can even process it, you're reaching inside the coffin for the head. You admire him longingly, a painful tug in your heart reminding you of his untimely death, but a wave of arousal also rushes through you. Such a peculiar feeling - how can both of these emotions coexist? Even in death, he could do this to you. Unreal. 

Delicately, you bring his lips to your crotch, rubbing them against your clit. The "Are you seriously fucking doing this?" thought pokes at your mind, but you ignore it. The cold skin of his face sends shivers down your spine. Not the same, but it'll do. Plus it feels incredible to have him this close to you again. "Terzo, I've missed you so much..." You whisper as you grind your hips into his stiff face.

The slightest flicker of his tongue makes you jump.

What the fuck?!

Panicking, you drop his head, and it rolls away on the marble floor. 

They had told you he was alive, but you honestly thought it was a sick joke. Something to frighten the newcomers, or another story to tell around All Hallow's Eve.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see his head twitch slightly and give out a long crackly, raspy groan. 

"Sorellaaaaaaaaaa….." 

You go to scream, but the shriek gets stuck in your throat. Your breath quickens as you back away towards the wall. Every cell in your body wants to escape, but your legs feel paralyzed. "Pa-Papa?" 

"B-b-loood....." He breathes weakly.

Did he just say blood? While your brain tries to comprehend what is happening, he calls to you again.

"Bloodddddd..."

He's alive. That's his fucking head, and he's alive. 

Your chest feels tight against your spine. Breathe, just fucking breathe. You can't fucking faint in here. 

The hammering of your heart is deafening. Your hands and legs are trembling, but somehow you manage to keep your composure.

OK, he said blood. Is that what he truly wants?

You try to slow down your breathing some more and search around for a way to help him. Maybe there was a vial of blood somewhere you could just throw at him and leave. 

Still terrified, you tiptoe around him, not wanting to get too close. Had he transformed into a grotesque version of himself posthumously? Was he possessed? Would he even remember you? 

There was no blood anywhere that you could see, and this was taking longer than you had anticipated. Fuck your damn horniness. If you get caught, your whole life at the abbey will be ruined. Surely Sister Imperator would love to keep your head in her collection after this.

But despite the danger, you want to stay - you yearn for him, and being in his presence again, even in this unsightly form, was good enough. You might not get another chance.

Looking around the artifacts, a golden-crested knife catches your attention. If there was no other blood around, yours would have to do. You remove it from its display case and, with a bit of courage, swiftly pierce the skin of your thumb with its blade.

Hesitantly, you make your way towards the head. It hadn't moved again, and you wondered if he had gone to sleep. The whole thing was bizarre. You step closer and gently push your blood-stained finger into his mouth. He latches on and startles you, but you keep still. He sucks your essence, savoring the iron flavor, the sweet intoxicating aroma enlivening his senses once again. 

To your surprise, his monochrome eyes instantly fly open to meet yours. They are just as mesmerizing as when you first met but with an unusual intensity. You feel the tension slowly leaving your body as your mind once again engulfs you with memories of your time together. His gaze whips through your heart, and without thinking, you bring his lips to yours. The warmth of your skin warms his cold flesh as he returns the kiss. "Mia bella ragazza (My beautiful girl)." He murmurs, his voice still hoarse, but gradually coming back to its regular timbre.

"I-I can't believe I'm talking to you right now. It's...surreal." You respond, still in a heightened state of befuddlement.

"I've missed you too, amore." He grins, reminding you of the wicked desire that had captured you earlier when you first saw him. 

You avert your gaze in embarrassment. "Sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to, I just-" 

"We can continue, dolcezza," he interrupts. You only gave me a small taste and I want more. Please, bella."

You chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. "Please tell me this is not some fucked up dream." 

"No. I assure you it's not. I'm still pretty handsome, si?" He winks, and you can picture the arm movements he would have made if he had any. 

You reach down and plant a small kiss on his forehead. "Of course. My Papa is as beautiful as ever." 

"Bene, bene. Good to hear," he smirks as you place him on your lap. "And do you want to see if he can still make you cum with his tongue?" He teases you, a familiar look of seduction in his eyes. 

"Yes." You reply intently, tracing your thumb along his jawline. "But you don't have to if you can't-"

"Lay down and open your legs for me, tesoro. I don't want to rush, but I only have so much energy with a small droplet of your blood."

Your heartbeat quickens as your bare back touches the cold floor. You squeeze your eyes shut, and imagine him completely bare beneath you, all of him, like it used to be.  

A gasp rips from your throat as you feel his eager tongue delve inside your folds. "F-fuck!" You moan. You knew it would be good, but you had not expected it to be exquisite. He had not lost one ounce of skill.

The fiery embers of desire run up your spine, and again you find yourself rutting your hips against his face. You look down to see him expertly licking you, his makeup smeared, and for a brief moment, it feels like you're in some sort of perverted twilight zone. But you'd rather be here than anywhere else.

His tongue dances across your entrance with precise strokes, just how you like it, intensifying the feverish pleasure rippling through your body.

"Fuck, Terzo, ah, yes, please, it feels... so fucking good..." you choke out, the tension spiraling in your core. So quickly he turns you into a babbling mess. He doesn't reply, but you know he heard you when his tongue continues to swirl maddeningly up and down your slit, making your toes curl.

Clutching at the sides of his face, you push him further into your slick cunt, and he flicks at your swollen clit, coaxing another powerful moan from your lips. A red-hot rush of ecstasy makes your skin feel like liquid fire. He sucks on your clit obsessively, circling faster, and then licks back down again. You exhale shakily and clench your thighs together, careful not to hurt him. 

"Papa-I'm cumming-!" you cry out as you feel your walls tightening around his mouth, your pussy twitching and legs tensing as the climax overwhelms your mind. You let go of his head and stay motionless, panting and basking in your post-orgasm bliss.

You don't know how long you had your eyes closed, but you open them to find him lying next to your chest, in a mildly sleepy state.

"Papa?" you ask, nudging him a bit. He tries to talk, but it comes out slurred. You remember what he said about only having a short amount of energy. Caringly you pick him up and make your way back towards the coffin.

You give him a tender kiss before placing him back inside. It feels odd to leave him there after such an intimate moment. You long for the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warm caress of his embrace. You smile thinking of the way he used to cuddle with you afterward.

You throw on your robe and slippers and head for the door. As you leave, three unread text messages from Rosaline appear when you unlock your phone. The halls were still enclosed in a semi-darkness, and your figure glides through the empty abbey like a specter.

Opening the door to your dorm, you exhale a sigh of relief and crawl back into the comfort of your bedsheets. Things could have gone wrong, but you are still in one piece, you saw him, and you undoubtedly had one of the greatest orgasms of your life. Worth it.

You reply to Rosaline to ease her worries and promise her an update tomorrow. Your eyelids are heavy and now all your body wants to do is rest.

Half-awake, you feel a gloved hand brush against your cheek and see Terzo looming on the edge of your bed, his wispy hair swept forward, begging for a kiss. Your eyes fly open, and he vanishes, the pain of his absence forming a knot in your throat. Your heart aches, and you find yourself wishing ghosts were real, if only just for tonight.

♡

✦ 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 and want to support me, please consider leaving comments, kudos, or reblogging my posts. :) ✦

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost the band #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #papa terzo fanfiction #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #ghost fanfic #ghost band fic #papa emeritus 3 #terzo fanfiction #terzo x reader #ghost band smut #ghost bc #terzo emeritus #terzo smut #papa emeritus x reader smut #papa emeritus iii smut #papa emeritus terzo #reanimator #terzos head #tw decapitated head #tw body horror #tw dead body #tw death #my writings #my fics

[imagobin]

Hiii!:) can you do head canons for the Zoldyck Siblings that have a sibling who is about 15 so like middle child sorta who always try’s to care for each sibling they have and is still is very skilled assassin and try’s to hold everything together please 😋

Omg okay I love this idea, just a poor 15 year old trying their best fhgk Thank you for requesting this, I'm gonna have lots of fun! Dividing this in sections, with what the Reader does for each sibling and their opinions on them!

🔯Being the Zoldyck's middle child HCs🔯

🪡Illumi🪡

Illumi is always working hard for the family, often taking on the most jobs, no matter how far they are. He doesn't show any sign of exhaustion, but you can always tell when your brother is feeling tired.

He takes a bit more time to reply during conversations, his footsteps actually make sound, his usually perfect hair has some strands out of place... you notice it all.

Seeing your brother overworking himself is really saddening for you, so you try to do small things for Illumi whenever you can: you ask him if there's any hit job you could handle instead of him "keeping them all to himself", you get him his favorite drink or snack... when you see him looking particularly stressed, you even offer to braid or brush his hair, and he's often taken off guard by this. "You want to brush my hair...? Hm, that does sound nice..."

Illumi doesn't know why you do all this stuff for him (he still hasn't caught on that you can see his fatigue), but he's really grateful for it, especially the hair-brushing; that always manages to calm his nerves like nothing else, it even makes him sleepy!

Needless to say, he's very proud of you as well. Your talent for assassination is undeniable, which is why he often agrees to hand a couple of his jobs over to you; he knows you can handle them.

Killua will always be his favorite sibling, but you also hold a special place in his heart since you seem to care so much about him.

He does however have a small tendency to still treat you like a little kid, giving you head pats and such when you've done a good job with an assassination, or to simply thank you.

---

🎮Milluki🎮

Needless to say, you rarely ever see Milluki leave his room, and nobody seems to be worried about that. You do though. You're always wondering what he might be doing in there, and if he's doing okay.

Honestly the rest of your family kind of acts as if he doesn't exist, unless they need something from him.

Milluki seems pretty used to this by now, so whenever you want to hang out with him, he just wonders why, or if you might have some ulterior motive. "W-wouldn't you rather go play with Kil? I'm busy here! ... though I guess I could make an exception-"

Of course, you just want to keep your brother company, plus, he's genuinely very fun to spend time with! You guys play games together, watch anime and eat snacks to your heart's content, nothing better than that for a chill afternoon.

He'd NEVER admit it right in front of you, but man, he loves when you visit him. He feels like you're the only person in the family he can talk about his interests to without being made fun of.

Milluki is a little bit jealous of your assassin skills, but doesn't really let that bother him, mostly because despite that, you don't act like you're better than him, you actually recognize his skills too, so there's like- mutual respect between the two of you.

He doesn't really take missions that require leaving the house anymore, but... he might give in if you were the one asking, he feels like you'd make a pretty good team with his brains and your brawn.

---

🪀Killua🪀

You and Killua are very close in age, you basically grew up together! So of course you two would be very close.

Among your brothers, he's definitely the most fun to hang out with. He's the outdoorsy type, which means that whenever you meet up, there's always adventures to be had, and sometimes... pranks to be pulled.

You're a bit more level-headed than him, since you're older, but you don't always manage to keep him out of trouble, which predictably isn't something your mother approves of. You're always getting scolded, because you should be setting an example for Killua, not encourage his rebellious side!

Killua finds the way Kikyo scolds you pretty annoying. "Who cares about what she wants? At least you're not boring like everyone else here!"

He also doesn't really understand why you still spend so much time with Illumi and Milluki, he not jealous, but would definitely love to know what pushes you to be so nice to them, especially Illumi.

You've explained your reasoning countless times: it's because you're family! You need to take care of each other, otherwise things might go wrong... he feels like you might be too nice. Not that it's a bad thing, just like Alluka, you bring him a sort of familial comfort that nobody else has there, which makes visiting home more bearable.

When Killua was still working as an assassin, he'd always be excited to go on missions with you. You two just get each other like that, and the job would always be completed flawlessly.

---

🧸Alluka🧸

Your parents always advise you against visiting Alluka, but do tou listen to them? Nope. Of course you're going to visit your little sister! She's always in that room on her own, you don't want her to feel lonely!

You play pretend with her, have cute tea parties with her plushies, and of course, say yes to anything she demands, which are usually very easy things, because you never take advantage of her wish-granting ability, and basically nobody else makes wishes to her anymore, because they're all too scared of her powers.

You always ask for something simple, like a hug, and she's always happy to comply.

Both her and Nanika are very happy that you visit them, and that you accept her for who she is. "You know, whenever you visit me- it makes me soooo happy I could explode!" You are definitely her favorite along with Killua.

You interacting so often with her has also given your parents a better understanding of her power, making them less scared of her, though they still don't allow her outside on her own, for fear that someone might misuse her ability.

She still explores the world with Killua, but whenever those two visit Kukuroo mountain, she's always extremely happy to see you again.

She's also very impressed with your skills as an assassin, and always jokes around, saying if Killua doesn't want to be the heir, you could be a candidate.

---

🪭Kalluto🪭

Kalluto is your youngest brother, so you feel pretty protective towards him.

He's often got this sort of melancholic aura around him, because he'd really want Killua to pay attention to him, but the white haired boy never does. He's a little bit jealous of you, because of how much you two hang out, but not too much, because he sees you also making the same effort with the rest of your siblings, him included.

When you see him looking a bit gloomy, you always offer to play with him, though he doesn't really know how to play a lot of outdoors games. He'll try to convince you he's okay with playing anything you want, but that's because he doesn't want to bore you.

You insist on doing what HE wants to do though. Your determination to let him choose what he wants to do makes him really happy, even if he doesn't really show it.

His idea of fun is always something pretty relaxing; his main hobby is making origami and paper dolls, and that's usually what you two end up doing. He's really good at both those things, and gets a bit embarrassed if you compliment him on that. "I-it's just a dragon origami... nothing too complex... ... thanks though"

He looks up to you, for being young and already so skilled, you're a natural with the family business.

You're always a bit concerned whenever he goes on missions with the Phantom Troupe, but you have noticed he's become more talkative since he's joined them.

---

#hxh #hxh headcanons #headcanon requests #hunter x hunter #zoldyck headcanons #zoldyck siblings #zoldyck #zoldyck family #the zoldyck family #illumi zoldyck #milluki zoldyck #killua zoldyck #alluka zoldyck #kalluto zoldyck #illumi #milluki #killua #kalluto #alluka

[gh0st-t0wn3]

CW // Ship discourse rant (Dragonfruit, Spicynoodles)

(Before anything I just wanna say that I don't like getting involved in ship discourse, it's incredibly stupid in my opinion but this actually really bothered me so I had to make a post about it, and this is likely the only post I will be making about the situation. I might also delete this later but I wanted to get my thoughts out)

Also, no shade to Dragonfruit shippers, I know not all of them are like this, but they seem to do this the most from what I've seen personally which is why I'm mainly talking about them.

I'm not sure if other people are dealing with this or if I just happen to be unlucky, but I keep seeing twt and tiktok posts about Spicynoodles being brothers and saying that the ship is problematic by Dragonfruit shippers and this kind of content keeps popping up no matter how many times I click "Not interested" and it's starting to get on my nerves.

It's so incredibly stupid, and not only that but I keep seeing Dragonfruit shippers say things like "if you hate Dragonfruit that means you hate sapphics", "people would like Dragonfruit more if it was mlm", "people who say Dragonfruit gives them sibling vibes hate wlw ships", "Dragonfruit is more likely to be canon", commenting about MK and Redson being brothers/cousins on Spicynoodles ship posts and more.

And maybe some of that's true, maybe some people who don't like Dragonfruit right now would like it more if it was mlm but maybe - JUST MAYBE - some people just have different opinions on these characters dynamics that have nothing to do with their gender identities or if a ship is straight or not.

Personally I think Mei and Redson have nothing more than a platonic relationship, she constantly gets his name wrong on purpose and bothers him whenever she can and overall acts alot like how an annoying sister/best friend would, and if I'm being entirely honest seeing Dragonfruit ship posts makes me a little uncomfortable, but I don't go around commenting that on Dragonfruit posts, I just click "not interested" and scroll and the fact that so many Dragonfruit shippers feel the need to start unnecessary conflict instead of just scrolling or even blocking them is absolutely infuriating.

Also the whole "people who don't like Dragonfruit just hate sapphics" is also stupid considering it's not even a sapphic ship to begin with, Redson is canonically a man and if you hc him as genderfluid, like so many other people do, or as transfem or something else I think that's great, you do you, I love seeing peoples headcanons for these characters. But that doesn't change the fact that he's a man in canon and if you're so delusional and captivated by your own headcanons to the point where you think someone disliking a F/M ship automatically means they hate sapphics then you need to get some serious help.

I've seen multiple accounts now in the lmk Fandom that exist purely to bash on Spicynoodles and Spicynoodlesshippers, constantly commenting on their posts about how much better Dragonfruit is and that MK and Redson are related because DBK and Wukong are Sworn Brothers so that means you can't ship them.

And this doesn't go just for Dragonfruit shippers - yes, this post is mainly about the Dragonfruit shippers who do this since I've seen them do it the most (atleast in my personal experiences) - but just in general, if you dedicate your entire account to bashing other people's (non-problematic) ships and instigating unnecessary conflict in what should be a kind, welcoming and supportive community you need to get off the internet and work on yourself before anything else.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid red son #lego monkie kid mk #lego monkie kid mei #lmk spicynoodles #lmk dragonfruit

[mushroomwoods]

never say goodbye

The sailor finally learned of a secret that roamed among the group and he wasn't happy about it, after all, who, if not him, would even dare to get so close to you? He would make sure it wasn't that wolf.

character — Wind, platonic.

cw — platonic yandere, wind is a warning in itself, feral little gremlin has too many traumas to take care of.

as always, @wayfayrr big brain ideas makes me spiral into madness and this is the latest result of it. and my opinion stands strong, platonic yanderes are fucking scary, they could ruin your fucking life if it meant you would never look away from them <3

kinda noticing how I'm turning mostly into a dark content blog too, oh dear, that wasn't the intention.

The sailor wasn't stupid like some liked to paint him as. It was only natural for him to discover what was the nature of Wolfie's existence when the rancher was always so secretive about it.

The man had come clean to him when he noticed the boy was too near the truth, after all, he trusted him like a younger sibling, he knew he wouldn't do anything to use it against him.

But maybe it was a mistake.

He must have underrated the sailor possible bolts of jealousy when he said something like that to him.

At first it was okay, but he started acting gloomier by the day when you didn't pay him any mind in order to play with the group's wolf. When it came to that, Twilight unfortunately knew it was only a matter of time until the bubble of rose tinted lens burst.

And for the first time, anyone in the group had ever seen Wind cry.

Not that he wasn't easy to read, he was more open than most in the group and always relied into some of the others when in need of help, it was endearing how he acted like the younger sibling when he noticed it would alleviate the tension, even when it was apparent how much he hated acting like it.

But he was strong.

There was no doubt about it, some could even argue that the boy would stand among the heroes with the most mental fortitude, as there was hardly anything that could set him off, even in the middle of battle.

But the scene unfolding right now was nothing short of a surprise.

The boy clung to your clothes as he muttered something incoherent, tears streaming down his face as his grip around one of your writs turned bruising. You winced and Twilight turned frantic.

“Wait, Wind, [Name] is in pain.” The ordonian tries to approach, but the glare he receives from the boy is enough to make him stop.

“Don't you fucking dare!” Wind snarled, showing his teeth and any reproach Wars had about his language, died when he noticed just how shaken up he was.

“Hey sailor, what got into you suddenly.” Four didn't move from his spot near the clearing, but the youngest head whipped to him so harshly you feared he would hurt himself.

“Like you're one to talk, smith. I bet someone like you was into like the rest of you all.” His voice was firm, but the tears just continued to cascade relentlessly. “I bet you all would just leave me out of it and try to take away all the things I love, like they always do.”

A sob broke from his throat and finally his facade crumbled, as his eyes ran back to you, filled with so much desperation you couldn't help but hug the boy, who sniffled into your chest.

“[Name], please, don't leave, please... I'll be good, I promise.” You shushed him quietly, running your hand over his hair as the other patted his back.

“Hey now... why would I leave?” His eyes lifted to meet you, wet lashes brushing and peeking through his bangs. “I won't leave you, don't worry.” You smiled reassuringly and he nodded softly, his hand around your wrist finally letting go as he hugged you again, now nuzzling into you.

You looked in confusion to the rest of the group, but there was no answer from their part. Twilight eyes avoided yours and Time sighed, impatient, but not words were uttered to calm your nerves.

It was a strange night, and you could notice how ever since that day the youngest was more and more protective over you, turning especially harsh when Wolfie tried to approach you, but no one said a thing to dimiss his paranoia, as you could only follow along his whims, since anything you said to go against his wishes would make the usually so energetic boy tremble and cry in fear you would abandon him.

At some point you understood that what you said to him as only a mean to calm him down, was now a promise binding the two of you together.

#lu wind #wind linked universe #linked universe #fungi's delicacies #I'm not all that proud of it but damn will i extend on this topic later

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

Can you make a story about Damon knowing reader likes him so he walks around shirtless to get a rise out of her.

I can't stare at you with everyone around | Damon Salvatore x Reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

Damon Salvatore, the hottest man in Mystic Falls.

I was his neighbour, also Elena's oldest sister so after Aunt Jenna's death her and Jer moved in with me in my townhouse which was nothing compared to the Salvatores.

To be fair, Elena and I practically lived with Stefan and Damon whilst Jeremy had the house to himself given the whole vampire hunter status and although Damon was a vampire that liked to get on everyones nerves, he did respect me and Elena enough not to kill our youngest sibling.

I've had a crush on Damon for as long as I can remember, I think thats a bad thing. Damon is a bad guy so no body should be able to care for him the way that I do.

"Alright, do you think Caroline would notice if there was 89 red balloons." Bonnie said over the speaker phone, Elena looks to me laughing and I chuckle "It's Caroline we are talking about, Of course she would notice." Elena responded.

Elena and I had been baking for the dance later on tonight, "So I suppose, Red Velvet cupcakes would go with the red balloons, pretty ballsy." I say "Yeah I guess so." Elena laughs.

"What are you guys doing?" Damon stumbles in with a bottle of bourbon "Y/n and I are baking, for the dance, you know the dance you were suppose to help with?" Elena questions Damon.

"Right, Well I didn't exactly feel like helping." Damon nods to us, he had been walking around shirtless for a couple of days while me, Elena and Bonnie were planning stuff at their house.

"Just like you didn't feel like putting on a shirt today?" I ask him "Or yesterday." I state "And the day before" Elena chimes in "Right and the day before that" I nod agreeing with her.

"So what? I don't feel like wearing a shirt around my house, whose gonna stop me. It's my house?" Damon throws his arms up.

Although I did just finish complaining about the half naked vampire in front of me and my little sister, I didn't mind the sight. The sight being his sculpted torso, each ab being placed perfectly not to mention the way he doesn't even have to mention it for somebody to look at his abs.

"y/n" a muffled voice said behind me, the voice continued to say my name, slowly pulling me back to reality "yes, yes what." I spin around slightly agitated. "try it" Elena says stuffing the cupcake into my mouth.

I bite it, swallowing it turning back to Damon "it's tasty" I say still staring at him whilst he stared at my sister "i don't uh like cakes though. you know that, give damon one." I smile to her and she nods giving one to Damon and he starts eating it.

"oh these are great, are you sure caroline needs them?" he asks and I nod "she needs them like you need that shirt I mentioned earlier." I mumbled taking the rubbish out of his hand and putting it in a bin.

"I don't get why I need to wear a shirt, is there something you haven't seen before?" he asks walking up next to me "Oh Matt just called I'll be right back." Elena says answering her phone and walking out of the kitchen.

"It's just children in the house, Damon, a shirt should be a rule when there is children." I say rinsing off the baking tray and bowl, placing them into the dishwasher.

"I think there is another reason." he says closing the dishwasher with his leg "well n- hey" I look at him annoyed punching his chest. My fist touching his bare skin sending shivers down my spine.

"tell me, before I compel it out of you." he says, his tone getting lower than usual "luckily vervain exists and you used to have a basement full of it." I sigh.

"So then what's the problem?" he asks, the heat basically radiating off of my head as he asks me once more 'what's the problem with no shirt.'

"god its because I find you hot, and I can't stare at you with everyone around including my sister who is dating your brother. It's just weird." I say smacking him out of the way of the dishwasher continuing to place the rinsed dishes in there.

"you find me hot?" he says "well thats not the only thing, but yes you're good looking." I say "and if that whole no shirt thing was to get a rise out of my, I will torture you till deaths end." glaring at him as he steps back kind of frightened by what I just said "jesus christ y/n, no it wasn't" he chuckles.

"I know it was, you little liar." narrowing my eyes at him, closing the dishwasher. "now can you start this thing, im young but dishwashers are confusing." I say rubbing the sweat off my forehead point to the dishwasher and he scoffs "you find me hot" he says under his breath, starting the dishwasher cycle.

"are you going to put that shirt on now?" I ask him and he nods "pft no. I like to know your eyes are on me and not any other man. Makes me special." he winks walking out of the room.

God I just can't shake him, shirt or not.

#damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore oneshot #damon x reader #tumblr #oneshots #wattpad #the originals #damon salvatore #the originals family #the vampire diaries #the mikaelsons #tvdu #klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries universe #tvdu imagines #tvduimagines #tvdu icons #tvduedit #tvdu rp #tvdulgbt #vampire diaries #tvd universe #tvd fandom #elena gilbert #fanfiction #tvdu fanfiction #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaires rp #the vampire diares icons #the vampire diares headers

[alphinias]

That bridgerton sneak peak had some good chemistry they might make me tune in idk, I usually agree with you on most things ship related but I have a problem with this specific ship, Colin is the least interesting of the siblings so far but that's okay I didn't care for anthony either before his season, my bigger problem is Penelope, I think they tried to go for the drama and the twists too much and made her seem kind of awful? They're trying to pretend racism doesn't exist in that era but the way she outed Marina in s1 ( who was not doing a good thing at all but I don't she had much of a choice given her other option was abject poverty) and the way she talks about her friends in her column and outs everyone's shit, things that have really serious consequences on people's lives. The writers literally called her a villain which???? They're doing something I feel a lot of shows have a problem with lately, trying to girlboss women doing shitty things, same with their brand of white feminism for Eloise who spends all her scenes lamenting her fate and being "quirky" with no actual depth or confronting her privilege or trying to help other women or really anything at all, all she does is talk like a "not like other girls" girlie circa Tumblr 2012 and they're thinking omg we're being such feminists right now 🤣😅🤣

Girllll you better tune in anyway so we can get more seasons and other ships you might like better! PRESERVE OUR LIMITED ROMANCE GENRE.

In all seriousness, I totally get where you’re coming from! I personally love polin and I’m very excited for them, but I don’t think the writing has always been the best. Obviously a lot of polin fans don’t agree with me, but I still think this season not being Benedict’s is so strange and a mistake. The general audience adores him and I think both Colin and Penelope could’ve done with another season of personal growth (and slow burn) to help them win over the rest of the audience more. I like Colin and I think he’s actually really funny when they give him a chance, but he’s done nothing to scream leading man like Benedict has yet. I guess S3 will tell us how much is on the writing so far vs Luke Newton. I want him to be so amazing, but I get the doubts because I still have some nerves about it too. I think the sneak peek looked great and is a great start so I’m gonna go in with optimism and positive thoughts!

Gotta defend Eloise because I think her thinking she’s ranting and valid but actually being more out of touch than she realizes is mostly purposeful! I like that as a character flaw and I think it’s realistic for someone in her position. Or maybe I just love Eloise lol. Penelope is a bit of a more… complex case. I see why people hate her, although I personally mostly like her even though I think she sucks for what she did to the Bridgertons. She’s just treated so polarizing one way or the other by the fandom and the producers are obsessed with her and I think that’s part of the problem.

I have doubts any of the Bridgerton ships will beat kathony for me but overall this fandom is so weird! I don’t get the ship wars amongst the ships because they are all canon and they’re all meant to have their spotlight and be enjoyed. I don’t mean you anon when I say this btw, I mean more the hardcore Bridgerton fandom. It’s why I don’t engage with them a lot lol. I just want to enjoy a cute ship every season.

#polin #ask #bridgerton

[setagaya-division]

Mina's Thoughts on Sendai Division

Ryūzō Mizutori

"Professor Mizutori. ...To say that he is incredibly high-strung would be an understatement. He doesn't let the slightest disturbance in his class go, and I've seen him dish out punishments and detentions for the slightest misdemeanor. It's quite obvious he's not everyone's favorite teacher, but I don't think he's trying to be anyone's favorite. I think he only cares about making sure students understand his material, which I can understand."

"Personally, I think the students complaining about him are just the ones who cause the most trouble or do the least amount of work. I suppose that's why Yorii is always getting in trouble in his class..."

Takumi Wakaba

"Ugh, Professor Wakaba. I didn't imagine it was possible to dislike a class so much until I attended physical education. I used to get on Elliot for skipping it so much, but now I'm starting to understand why he chooses to. Truthfully, I wouldn't mind P.E. so much, but Professor Wakaba always insists on having his classes outdoors! And in case you forget, the sun and I... we don't really see eye-to-eye right now, for some reason. It's only due to the fact that I have a "doctor's note" that the professor allows me to rest from time to time. Ugh, it's moments like these that make me wonder why P.E. even exist..."

Kotono Ohara

"Professor Ohara is... for lack of a better word, lax with her teaching. Truthfully, she reminds me a bit of Professor Umemoto. The only difference is while Professor Umemoto sometimes can't work up the nerve to teach his class, Professor Ohara can't work up the energy to teach her class. If she isn't sleeping in the nurse's room, she can be found wandering the halls in a daze, for some reason. If not for the fact that she does teach, I would have wondered why she was here."

"Still, when she does teach, the professor actually does a very good job of it. I don't really care much for physics, but I do still do the work because it is required. I know Elliot loves this class cause it has something to do with his profession, but me... like I said, I'll do the work. But it truly bores me.

...

"Aside from that, something about this woman really sets me off. I don't know how, but I know I've seen her somewhere before. ...Was it Chuohku? ...Possibly, that's the only place I can recall. If it were just that, then it wouldn't be so bad, but... why does this woman give off the same energy as me? Like... I can sense that she's not entirely "human", but she doesn't fear the sun or need blood like I do. ...Could she have been responsible for why I'm like this?! If so, I've got a ton of questions for her! And she better have some answers for me!"

Kiya Kara

"Wow... more of my professors are joining this tournament. Professor Umemoto, I'm not all that surprised about. But this team? None of them have shown any interest in the government, or the D.R.B. So what reason could any of them have to enter this tournament? ...I don't like this. I really don't enjoy the thought of having to face any of my teachers. ...But, if I want to uncover the truth behind me and my siblings... then I'm afraid I have no choice."

#hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone #mina nakayama #enigma #setagaya division #sendai division #kiya kara #ryūzō mizutori #takumi wakaba #kotono ohara