#they are the only ones who could ever understand what the other has been through
Text
Used to be Mine
Oscar Piastri x Reader
Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader
Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you
Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”
Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.
“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”
Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”
The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.
Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.
“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.
The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.
All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.
He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.
His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.
“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.
“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.
Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”
There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.
“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.
Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.
“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.
You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”
You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”
Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.
“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”
You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.
“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”
You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”
“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”
You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”
Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”
Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.
“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”
Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”
“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.
Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”
He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.
You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”
Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.
“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.
Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.
“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”
You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.
“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”
The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.
Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.
The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.
***
Six Months Later
The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:
1. C. LECLERC
2. O. PIASTRI
A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.
“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.
Arthur’s gut twists.
Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”
A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”
“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”
You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”
Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.
“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”
Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”
“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”
“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.
But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.
“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”
“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”
Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”
The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.
You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.
“Arthur! There you are!”
He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.
“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.
He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”
“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.
You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”
Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.
“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.
You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”
“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”
“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”
Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.
“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.
Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.
He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.
He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.
“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.
He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.
And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.
Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.
He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.
Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?
He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”
It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.
There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”
Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.
But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.
“Yeah, okay.”
The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.
“Hey … you okay?”
Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.
“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.
And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.
“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”
Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”
Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.
“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”
“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”
Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”
“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”
“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”
“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”
Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”
“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”
“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”
“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”
“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”
“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”
Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.
He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”
Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”
As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.
But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.
Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.
He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.
***
Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.
It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.
This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.
You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.
Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.
Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.
“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.
Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”
He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”
“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.
You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”
And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.
Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.
He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.
Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?
Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.
He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.
But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.
Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?
Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.
Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.
Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.
At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.
What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?
It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.
Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.
Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.
White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?
Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-
“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”
Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.
“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.
Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”
“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”
Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.
But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.
Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.
When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.
“Oscar. And Y/N.”
That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.
“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.
Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.
For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”
Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.
“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”
Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.
“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”
Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.
He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.
Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.
Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”
“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”
He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.
They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.
“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”
Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.
“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.
Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.
You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.
Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.
“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.
“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”
Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.
“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”
He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?
“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”
Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”
Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”
He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.
“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”
“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.
“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”
“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”
“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”
He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.
“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”
Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”
“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.
“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”
Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”
Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.
As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.
Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.
Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.
It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.
If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.
It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.
His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#arthur leclerc#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#arthur leclerc imagine#oscar piastri x reader#arthur leclerc x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A highly recommended read.
Full text of article under cut
On October 7, I was not hiding with my child in the safe room. My house was not burnt to the ground, and my husband didn't blow me a last kiss before his killer fired a fatal bullet.
I was safely at home in London where I have lived for over 30 years when my elderly peace-activist parents, Oded and Yocheved Lifschitz, along with 77 others members of the community, were taken hostage, barefoot and in their pajamas from their homes in the kibbutz where I was born and raised.
Israel's hostages in Gaza: A matter of life and death
Israeli peace activists who lost loved ones in the Hamas massacre stand their ground
What we can learn from released Hamas hostage Yocheved Lifshitz
For the past 229 days, together with the families of the other of hostages taken captive which now number 128, we have taken part in the fight for the lives of our loved ones.
A photo of the writer, Sharone Lifschitz's parents, Yocheved and Oded Lifschitz, who were both kidnapped by Hamas to Gaza on October 7. To date, only Yocheved Lifschitz has returned. Credit: Amiram Oren
In Nir Oz, my family's kibbutz, one in four people (117 in total), were either executed or kidnapped. We are still piecing together the events of that brutal day that Hamas terrorists and some Gazan civilians, perpetrated medieval levels of cruelty, driven by hate and revenge, blinded by radical religious ideology and super-charged with amphetamines.
Last month, at the "Seder in the Streets" event in New York, activist Naomi Klein spoke as if none of that ever took place. Instead, addressing hundreds who gathered for a combination Passover Seder and protest of the war in Gaza, she spoke of what she termed the "False Idol of Zionism", comparing Jewish support of it to the Israelites "worshiping" the golden calf and recalling Moses' rage seeing the spectacle.
Klein's interpretation seems to miss the point: Moses, unlike Klein, did not disengage. He did not give up on his people when they worshipped a false idol. Instead, without compromising his integrity and beliefs, he guided them through the desert for forty more years in their journey to become a nation. Klein, at this dangerous moment in history, is failing to lead her listeners to take responsibility, to engage and work towards a shared future in the region for Jews and Palestinians, one built on the preciousness of life on both sides and an understanding of the original intention of Zionism: the necessity for a safe home for the Jewish people.
"Seder in the Street" was also protesting the heartbreaking and ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza and settler violence in the West Bank. Many in Israel, like my parents, would agree. Yet their plight and that of the other hostages – most of them civilians, from a baby boy of one year to a man of 86 - are not mentioned at Seder in the Streets or other gatherings of far-left pro-Palestinian Jewish activists.
My father, Oded Lifschitz, who is 83, and his friends who are also hostages, all in their late 70s and 80s, have worked for peace for decades. My mother, Yocheved Lifschitz, was thankfully released after 17 days of captivity.
Yocheved Lifschitz after being released from 17 days in Hamas captivity, in Tel Aviv, Israel in late October. Credit: Tomer Appelbaum
How much more effective these protests could be if activists abroad could act as a bridge between the pro-Palestinian movement and progressives fighting for peace in Israel?
Hamas, a terrorist organization which has been systematically stripping freedom, women's rights and democracy from the Gaza strip since 2006 are also strangely left out of the discussion. In fact, I see more criticism of the Hamas attack and crimes from moderate Palestinian voices than from prominent Jewish voices of the pro-Palestinian movement in the United States and Europe.
Klein is instead content in disengaging from Israel based on a distorted idea of Zionism and in so doing offers no solidarity with the moderate, progressive Jews living in Israel and for whom rejecting Zionism is irrelevant at this moment. Whether we like our government's policies or hate them as many do, Israel is home. Just as Canada is Klein's home, whether or not she likes the policies of the Canadian government or condones its mistreatment of its Indigenous population.
I consider myself pro-Palestinian. My family has always fought for a shared future for our two peoples, understanding this key point: our fates are interlinked. My parents have advocated for peace and equality for and with the Palestinians since the 1960s. We have united as a family to protest policies of the current Israeli government we find abhorrent. I wish for the Palestinians what I want for my own people: to live without bloodshed, in their own democratic state, as part of a negotiated two-state solution.
The facts are indisputable to Zionists and non-Zionists alike: There are about 7 million Jews and 7 million Palestinians living in Israel and the occupied Palestinian territories of the West Bank and Gaza. Jewish Israelis cannot be expected to reject the idea that they can and should have the right to live safely in Israel. Without Israel, where would they go?
Everyone who cares about what's best for the region must strengthen those who are working for a peaceful future. As my father always says, "You make peace with your enemies."
A Palestinian family rides on the back of a donkey-drawn carriage next to damaged buildings in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, in April.Credit: AFP
Thanks to international efforts to formulate a plan for the "day after" the war in Gaza, we are potentially closer to a long-term political agreement to lift us out of conflict than ever before. To help facilitate it, American and European progressives must distinguish between religious fanatics on both sides and those working toward a path of justice and peace for everyone in the region.
We must differentiate the liberal American pro-Palestinian activists from those who justify Hamas atrocities as acts of resistance. The dominant current narrative of the American far left, including the Jews among them, unwittingly aligns with Iran, and with antidemocratic and illiberal forces.
Instead of fostering hate and promoting disengagement from Israel, progressives abroad should help those in the region regain a sense that another future is possible and advocate for a negotiated political agreement that would create a state of Palestine established alongside the state of Israel. It won't be perfect, but it will be a good start.
The work of advocating for a different, sustainable future, must start with a call for the immediate release of hostages as part of a long-term agreement, backed by America and its allies, including moderate Arab states, that has the potential to transform the lives of Palestinians and Israelis by rescuing them from this ongoing tragedy. To fail to do so is to fail not just the hostages and their families, but to throw all the people of the region further into the abyss and undo the inspiring work of moderate forces within Israeli and Palestinian society.
In this, our darkest hour, we ask ourselves, who is our enemy? My enemy is the blind hate that seeks to erase the humanity of the other side. All of us who are horrified by what is unfolding in Gaza should work toward empowering the people of the region to move away from our common enemy. That's not Zionism, but rather the religious fanaticism we have within both our societies – Israeli and Palestinian – that threatens to engulf us all.
Sometimes, I want to shout at the news on TV, to remind people that their indulgent engagement in hatred of one side is so futile, so self-congratulatory. We can do better.
As we bleed and grieve, and in the case of families like my own – hang suspended between hope and despair for the fate of our loved ones, we must seek points of human connection between Jews and Palestinians, we must fight, not against one another, but for a practical solution that dismantles the status quo so that we can all survive – and live in freedom and security.
Sharone Lifschitz is a London-based filmmaker and academic originally from Kibbutz Nir Oz, whose parents were taken hostage on October 7. On Twitter: @Lifschitz_sha
#israel/palestine#Israel#palestine#hamas#israel hamas war#israel/hamas war#gaza#current events#october 7#hostages#hamas massacre#Simchat Torah massacre#10/7#I/p#hamas hostages#bring them home now#israeli hostages#israel gaza war#israel palestine war#israel palestine conflict#antisemitism#Jumblr#campus protests#pro palestine#Istg tagging this was so difficult there’s like 80 different names/notations used for this conflict
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
-> ATOM BOMB BABY!
synopsis: you're a nomadic survivor in a post-apocalyptic wasteland until you get transported to a strange, new world. these demons were obviously expecting a human that was softer, less spikes-and-thorns and more fluff-and-wool. how will they react and adapt?
word count: 3.3k (~530 each)
characters: lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor, post-apocalyptic! reader
trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, it's implied that the reader has killed before and will kill again lol
notes: new vegas and obey me! have been kicking me in the head repeatedly recently. so there are some allusions/references to new vegas in this one but you don't need to know jack about new vegas to understand this :) also mammon's is longer than everyone else's and he's pining hard for mc because i'm soooo in love with him it's not even funny and IGNORE that there's a lot of holes you could poke in this.. okay? okay <3
It had been a… a miscalculation, really. An embarrassing one. Diavolo had accounted for many things to ensure the success of the Exchange Program, but he failed to account for the most important thing: the fact that, at the end of the day, humans are better at killing than any other living thing.
Was it wrong for him to assume that things had been the same way they were two hundred years ago? Yes, of course. It was stupid not to check in on the human world, because if he had, he’d find that it was razed by nuclear bombs, the land and water still tainted with the fallout.
So, no, neither he nor the brothers know what to do when you quite literally fall out of the portal. They’re shocked when, instead of being confused and scared and fragile, you’re vile, scarred, spitting threats as if they came naturally. Wait – are you wearing riot armor? And – yeah, that’s a gun. Definitely a gun. A gun you’re currently pointing at them.
-> LUCIFER
Honestly, this is the last thing Lucifer needed: another fucking headache. He supports Diavolo with all that he is, but he can’t ignore the fact that he’s sometimes so careless that shit like this happens. He’s the one who talks some sense into you and gets you to holster your weapon, as he’s the only one with a level head in the room. (Well, Diavolo would be the other, but he’s… weirdly excited that this human is challenging and has so many thorns you’d think they were born in a briar bush!)
He’ll try his best to accommodate you, even if that means teaching you that yes, you have to shower at least once every two days if you’re to continue living in the House of Lamentation. And no, you cannot hoard food and water in your room. He knows it’s instinct for you at this point, but it causes problems with Beel.
He basically takes over teaching you how to be a regular, functioning member of polite society, kinda like how he did with Satan. (Really, he thought he’d never see the day where the Devildom was considered part of polite society, but after seeing snippets of the human world through you, he knows that this place is way better than the human world.) He teaches you how to use proper cutlery, how modern plumbing and refrigeration works, and how to solve your problems with words rather than bullets.
Lucifer is also… oddly patient when it comes to you. As much as he hates to admit it, he sees part of himself in you – the part that had just been cast out of the Celestial Realm, the part that took months to adjust to the world of the Devildom. He knows what it’s like to be subjected to new and confusing ideals – but instead of just a completely different way of life, you’re introduced to the same on top of an legit, organized education system that you’ve never encountered before.
And if that trigger finger of yours ever gets itchy, he’ll take you to go hunting. He’s inexperienced when it comes to hunting with guns instead of claws, but this is the only time he’ll set his pride aside, sit back, and learn. What better hunter to learn from than someone who’s hunted everything, from mutated creatures to fellow man?
If you ever take him to the human world, prepare for him to be silent and observant. He’ll be that way for a while, just looking over the rolling hills and plains that were once green, killed and turned brown by radiation. Then, slowly, softly, unsure if he’s speaking to himself, you, or his Father: “What a splendid world you ruined…”
-> MAMMON
When Mammon comes into the Student Council Room (because he was running late, as per usual) to find you, gun holstered but hackles still raised, his first instinct is to get the fuck out. He’s been in situations like these before, and he knows when to bounce.
But, of course, he’s still assigned as your guardian even though you clearly don’t need one. He thinks that your guns and knives are enough to deter any demon, honest! (Even though that doesn’t deter him from trying to pick your pocket. What really deters him is when you catch his wrist and hit him with the most threatening glare he’s ever seen on a human. Jeez, you honestly look like you’re about to clean his clock…!)
But still, since the Great Mammon was assigned as your guard, he’ll stick around. He doesn’t really mind, because you’re kinda cool anyways – not that he’ll ever say it to your face. But really, with the kinda armor that you’re wearing, plus the grime of the wasteland that doesn’t go away no matter how many times you wash… you’ve got a unique style, and that’s all he has to say, okay? If you really want, he guesses he can hook you up with a modeling gig – but only if you’re with him! Uh – only because he wants to make himself look better in comparison, y’know?
Yeah, even with someone from the wasteland, he’s still absolutely head over heels in puppy love. He’ll show you stuff he got from the Old World (as in, the pre-war human world) because, as much as he denies and deflects, he wants you to have some sense of normalcy. A place that isn’t filled with raiders and ghouls and slavers and someone trying to kill you at every other turn. He’s nice like that.
But he still really wants to know what the New World is like! You can’t get those Old World Blues if he’s just as enthusiastic about New World Hope, right? He asks about your weapons (and takes the spent bullet casings from your guns because they’re shiny), your occupation, your lifestyle – everything, honestly. He wants to know about your family – assuming they’re still alive – and your friends – again, assuming the same. He’s eager to know as much as you’re willing to share, even the more gruesome things you’ve seen or experienced.
He also wants to know about what… ahem, what affection is like. Surely you can’t trust easily when people are willing to kill one another over a sack of rotten vegetables, right? So he’ll be gracious and allow you to playfight and get rough with him, since that’s your weird human way of showing affection! What do you mean that’s not – that’s not how humans show affection now? Humans show affection in the New World the same way they did in the Old World? Well, he just assumed because you hadn’t been showering the Great Mammon in praises and loving touches and – ugh! Just drop it, okay?
Yes, he assumes a lot, mostly based on the apocalypse movies he’s seen. Unless you actually have a sit-down with him and talk about what life is really like in the wasteland, he’ll ride on these weird assumptions. Assumptions like the existence of radiation-riddled zombies, super-mutants and their variants, and other beings that would otherwise be labeled as supranatural if not for the complex and long-winded explanations Mammon comes up with.
If you ever take him to the human world, he’d be delighted to see what remains of Las Vegas – or is it called New Vegas now? Who cares! He’s all-too-excited to bust out whatever human world money he has and get those dice rolling! Sure, he knows that the deck is stacked and the dice are weighted and the games are rigged in every possible way, but it’s about having fun with his human, right? (That’s what he says until he’s forced to fold and cash out. Then it’s “no fun anyway,” and “a waste of time,” and he’s itching to check out the nearby towns and settlements. For something to steal? Hell, probably.)
-> LEVIATHAN
The first thought that crossed Levi’s mind is that you’re obviously cosplaying the main character from It’s a Federal Offense to Mess with the Mail, Man!: Tales of Gunslinging Wastelander Couriers Solving Convoluted Demon Family Drama’s way less popular spinoff, I was Doing Fine Scraping by as a Nomadic Wastelander, but Then I was Transported to Some Strange, New World with Seven Demonic Suitors who are Fighting Over Me as we Speak! Though, if that were the case, where was your convention badge? And that armor doesn’t look fake. It doesn’t really click until he hears the very real sound of you cocking your gun that you’re not playing pretend, nor are you fucking around in any capacity.
He so desperately wants to cement the fact in his mind that you’re a normie, you like doing normie things like cleaning your guns and knives and talking about the politics of the wasteland, which actually reminds him of this game he’s playing and you’d totally love it and –! Oh no. It’s true. You’re cool. Like, really cool. Like, not-a-normie-at-all cool!
Even though you’re not an otaku (and depending on where you’re from and your education, you might’ve never even heard of Japan), Levi will slowly come out of his shell and try to ask you questions about the wasteland. Like Mammon, he has a lot of assumptions based on the games he plays, but they would actually be more accurate. Instead of supranatural things, he thinks about the logistics of the world at large – blame the RPGs he plays.
But, this leads to him thinking he knows all there is to know about your life and how you live it. Depending on your temper, it may lead you to snap at him, telling him that your life isn’t a video game. This isn’t Grognak & the Ruby Ruins. The wasteland is grueling and cruel and unforgiving. You have seen starvation, debauchery, reignited fascism and misled democracy. You have seen people be crucified for not agreeing with the slavers putting them up on the cross. What you’ve lived through isn’t fun. It’s not a fucking game. You can’t respawn if someone gets a lucky hit. You die. And that’s it.
And of course it causes a blow to his ego, reinforcing the idea that he’s just a “yucky otaku” or some shit like that. You have to reassure him that you have nothing against him personally, it’s just that he was being kinda patronizing and acting as if he’d lived in the wasteland all his life instead of you. After some time alone to sulk, he eventually comes back around and realizes that you’re right, and that you’re really cool, and he wants to be friends with you, so after that brief period he apologizes.
Good luck trying to drag him to the human world! Levi’s a shut-in, and much prefers experiencing the wasteland through video games than real life. Though if you’re bound and determined, call him up on whatever the equivalent of facetime is on your DDD and talk him through what you’re doing while in the human world, even if you’re just walking along an abandoned highway. He really appreciates your effort and might even work up the confidence to travel the wasteland with you, but sticks to walking the desolate wastes as opposed to going into towns and… ugh, socializing.
-> SATAN
Satan immediately wants to laugh in Lucifer’s face because he fucked up so immensely. Seriously, how could you not know a nuclear war happened? (This is ignoring the fact that he didn’t know, either. He just thought that humans haven’t put out anything worth reading in a little while. He’s a demon, so two hundred years is… not a significant amount of time for him.)
He’s a hardcore nerd, so he wants to pick your brain about the politics, the logistics – everything about the wasteland. He’s kinda insensitive about it in the beginning, but will eventually turn and not treat the deaths of people close to you like a plot point in a book. He’s unashamed about it, too, and will ask you as soon as the question pops into his mind, lest he forgets it. This leads to weird topics of conversation over dinner, all spurred on by his question of “How many people would you say an average person has killed? Assuming they’re competent enough to kill, of course.”
Your weapons are another point of interest for him. Obviously big gun manufacturers aren’t around anymore, so where do you get your guns? Are there modifications on them? Are the mods homemade, or do you get them from a designated seller? Does the seller need a license, or is it a free-for-all? If it’s a free-for-all, how do you know the quality of the mods they’re selling? And other exhaustive lists of questions that leave you wishing that Mammon would just burst through the door with another stupid money-making scheme on the tip of his tongue.
He knows how overwhelming school can be, and organized education in the wasteland is sparse to none, so he takes up the title of being your tutor. You’re obviously frustrated with this new thing you don’t have a choice but to partake in, and Satan can sympathize. You’ve never even studied in your life, so he tries his best with trying out different studying techniques to help you form healthy habits that promote a healthy school-life balance.
If you ever take him to the human world, he’ll be elated. Not because of your trust in him to bring him to the wasteland, but because he can actually do a case study on humans! Not on anything in particular, he’s just curious. He takes soil and water samples to test the levels of residual radiation, talks with locals – both in small settlements and more populated areas – about their life experiences, their political opinions, their religious beliefs… basically everything under the sun, really. He comes back with a new appreciation for humans and a few books that have been published in the New World by doctors and the like.
-> ASMODEUS
Ew… what sewer did you crawl out of? Asmo respects people’s kinks and lifestyles and knows that someone’s yuck is someone else’s yum, but he holds the firm belief that it shouldn’t impact other people. And that blood on your boots and the… whatever that’s on your armor is seriously grossing him out. (Though the drop knife strap that’s hugging your thigh is really doing something for him. But that doesn’t make up for the fact you haven’t bathed in a week.)
At first, he distances himself a little because you distance yourself. You don’t want to be judged for something that’s considered normal in the human world. Purified water is a precious commodity, and people don’t want to waste it showering when they could be drinking it. A dip in the river – yes, the ones with the sediment and the radiation and the mutated fish – suffices for most.
Though after a while, he decides that it’s high time he’s bonded with the human that’s living under the same roof as him. Maybe you just need a makeover, then you’ll unleash your full potential as a scarred, gunslinging wastelander hottie? Some demons are into that.
So, with little to no warning, he decided it’s time for a shopping spree. Even though you’re uncomfortable wearing the “high fashion” that’s at Majolish (because it provides literally no protection, armor-wise), he’s able to compromise by getting you some loungewear that you won’t be going out in anyway. While you’re out with him, he drags you to a shop that sells soaps, perfumes, and the like. You’re obviously not used to things that smell good and it’s obviously overstimulating, so Asmo just picks some of his favorites and gets you out before you have a scent-induced breakdown.
Once you’re back at the House of Lamentation, he drops all the shopping bags in your room and drags you to his – it’s time for a makeover, because you’re in dire need of one! He gives you a nice manicure (and adds some nail polish if you’re okay with that) and breaks out the “Doctor Asmo” title to diagnose what kind of skin routine would work for you. If you take issue with the scars you’ve accumulated throughout your life in the wastes, he tries many gels and creams to heal the tissue and reduce the starkness of the scars (even if he thinks that it’s kinda futile because the scars have existed for so long or have been exposed to the sun too much).
Honestly, Asmo cringes at the thought of going to the human world after having you describe it to him. Even the slightest dosage of radiation that’s above the regular background levels can be really detrimental to your skin, and he doesn’t want to risk radiation poisoning – even at a minor level! Raiders can’t be stopped by his beauty alone, and he doesn’t want to chip his acrylics while handling a gun. Instead, he’ll get the human world in little doses through you.
-> BEELZEBUB
Not to sound rude, but when you first arrived, you smelled far too rank for Beel to eat. Yeah, he’s eaten inedible things before, but he knows when to suppress his hunger because eating something rancid will hurt more than it’ll help. But don’t worry, after you freshen up and bum some clothes off Mammon (because you didn’t bring any other outfit – obviously), Beel’s appetite is back! Good for you…?
He’s actually really excited to sample some New World food when it’s your turn to cook dinner. Even if you tell him it’s nothing to write home about, he’ll eagerly wait at the kitchen island, not-so-subtly sneaking tastes here and there while you cook. He’s not deterred by the weirder-sounding and even-weirder-looking foods like squirrel stew and coyote steak. If anything, that just makes him more excited!
If Mammon’s not attached to your hip while you’re walking the halls of RAD (and surely yapping your ear off all the while), Beel’s there. He mostly sticks around to see what snacks you can conjure up from things he never thought of eating before, like when you plucked a bug out of the air that was flying around the courtyard and snapped its head off before eating it. He stared at you for a second, just enough for you to start to fluster and get defensive, before doing the same. Protein is protein, after all.
He also wants to introduce you to fangol! From what you’ve shared, he’s deduced that sports aren’t really a thing in the wasteland – you can’t waste your energy playing when you need it for your continued survival. But you’ve got a lot of energy from being cooped up in the House of Lamentation, so he can help you in a way that benefits both you and Beel: you get rid of your excess energy, and he gets to practice. Practice with someone who’s very inexperienced, yes, but still – it’s practice!
And if you ever itch to get a hint of your old wanderer lifestyle back, he’s all-too-happy to take you on a hike or to go camping with you. Even if it’s purely on a whim with no preparation whatsoever, he’ll grab whatever he can carry from the fridge, stuff it in a backpack, and, after sending a text to Lucifer detailing where you and he are heading, be ready at the front door, all within ten minutes. The food he brought won’t be enough, surely, but he can strip the leaves off a tree like an elephant if needed.
If you ever take him to the human world, make sure to pack ample food for him because, if pushed, he will strip the nearby towns and settlements of their food supply that was meant to last the next three months. Yes, he’ll pay them for the food, but still – it’s a shock for the wastelanders to see this towering figure push a bunch of money in their hands without even counting it and rattling off what he wants like he’s ordering at a restaurant.
-> BELPHEGOR
He’s in the attic and a wastelander like you has enough common sense to not trust him. Good ending he stays locked in the attic forever lol goodbye twat
#riptide writes 🌊#obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmo#obey me asmodeus#obey me beel#obey me beelzebub#obey me brothers#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me levi x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#obey me satan x reader#obey me asmo x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#obey me beel x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me lucifer x mc#obey me mammon x mc#obey me leviathan x mc#obey me satan x mc#obey me asmodeus x mc#obey me beelzebub x mc
63 notes
·
View notes
Text
i know this is not like, the most widely held opinion, but i think one of my favourite things about mysterious lotus casebook is that i feel like you can make an incredibly strong argument for almost literally any relationship between any of the main three, as well as for a ton of relationships between the main three and other characters, or between almost any of the minor characters.
people's lives are so entwined, and their narratives are so interdependent, and things overlap in ways that allow for so many readings of their relationships, and it's just really cool to me.
like: no one but you understands what i've been through. no one but you understands what i've lost. no one but you understands me. you know what i am, and you're still here. you know what i was, and you're still here. you don't know what i was, and you don't care because you know who i am now. you've seen the worst parts of me and you trust me anyhow. i've tried so hard to keep the worst parts of myself from you, and you've seen them anyhow, and you're still here. you didn't even know me, and you saved me. i trusted you when i couldn't even trust myself. i would kill for you. i would die for you. i would live for you.
and on the flip side: you can't understand what i've been through, even though you were there. you don't understand what i've lost, even though you lost it, too. you don't want to understand me, because it's easier to forget if you don't try to understand. you know what i am, and you refuse to accept it. you know what i was, and you hate me for it. you don't know what this has cost me, and you don't even know or care enough to ask. you've only ever seen me at my best, and it still wasn't enough for you. you kept the worst parts of yourself hidden from me so you could use them against me. i trusted you, and you destroyed me. i would kill you.
and at the same time: i love you so much that i will kill you myself. i loved you so much that i have to be the one to do it. i love you so much that if you have to die, take me with you. i love you so much that if you have to die, die in my arms. i love you so much that when you can no longer walk, i'll carry you. i love you so much that your death will define the rest of my life.
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Inspired by the Secret Robin AU by dragonpyre on Tumblr and the genderqueerness Tim has going on with the Jane Doe AU, I've got a Mahou Shoujo Jihen AU for ye! (mangaka, Zero Akabane)
Snippets are occasionally non-chronological/flashback and unreliable narration ahoy lmao
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Okay so the Graysons', unbeknownst to them, have bloodline of ★magic★
A magic newly-orphaned Grayson has to learn all on his own, for the ward hardly entrusts his legal guardian so new to his life
And he wants something all to himself, something nobody can take away or order him about
Waltz's World he calls it, warping the lines between boy and girl, barriers receding
Aka Grayson can don a Magical Girl form that essentially trans his gender while she's formed, at least at the start
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Obligatory "Anon is cis and playing with gender through Batkids like dolls, her highest apologies for any fuck ups" Disclaimer
And also tw for small moments of misgendering by characters who have yet to be informed on batkids genders & pronouns
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
When Robin hits the streets, all Batman knows is that she is a child, one he brings under his mentorship and despite all his efforts, is impossible to find the civilian identity of
When she confesses to how new her magic is to her, that she's self taught in it all, he and his colleague find dead end after dead end to see if anybody else knows about her type of magic
If there exists others like her they're niche and hidden
Thus trial and error and the scientific method is their only way to help Robin come into her own
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Robin is tactical; hammered in by Batman, by Bruce, his guardian and her mentor
If Zucco dies, and it's so obviously linked to her, it could implicate Robin or both of her identities
She has to be smart about this
Murder had no place in Batman's care for her. Dick has to be careful about his search history on computers and what people catch him reading
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Bruce Wayne worries endlessly over Robin, now a teenage girl
Others too; nobody knows her identity
Dick is a blend of interested and not in the vigilante, opinions ever shifting. They both chalk it up to not knowing the young girl at all
Still, he dreams of a time he does have Robin under his complete care, newly adopted like Grayson, safe from crime fighting
When the news comes out that the killer of Dick's parents are dead, a weight is off his boy's shoulders.
"I have to say thank you to whoever did it." "It looks like it might've been an accident more than anything according to the cops."
Robin has been tense for a time, and still is
"Something happened in my civilian life, nothing major but I'm just waiting for the effects to pass by."
His poor girl . . . "I'm here for you Robin, no matter what happens."
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
The air and earth makes way for Robin's acrobatics, lights turns to her direction, and she's too nimble to be human
Too high, too far, too quick, too lasting are her movements
A cameraboy will never confess that whereas Dick shined with his quadruple somersault, Robin revealed it childsplay
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Jason is adopted right after trying to rob Bruce Wayne's car
In time Dick and he get along like a house on fire—
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
It's Jason who discovers Robin sneaking into the Manor, into his brother's room on the day he snuck into his closet for a prank of all things
It's Jason who sees Dick take Robin's place and screams
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
—And then it's like they've reached an understanding friendships with nobody else will ever challenge
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Little Wing hits the streets, partner of Robin
And he's as human as Bruce
"Listen, listen, he's just like me! Powers or not he's going to fight for Gotham, best we can do is prepare the bird!"
So Batman trains the vigilante Jason's age just as he did for Robin. He doesn't try to find his identity
The young duo only trusts each other with the truth
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Robin set ship for that off-world mission on the promise that Batman would protect Little Wing with his life
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"I'm gonna be visiting some friends dad, and I'm gonna be off grid during our stay so . . ."
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
there's A Death in the Family alright
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Bruce's eyes tore into Robin's, her face vomit and tear and snot stained
"Why did you never tell me who he was?"
Dick could only mouth "B— hiccup B—" He retched again
He looked away from the girl
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"I have a boy your exact age Robin, I think you could be twins, identical ones even, without sharing any blood."
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Grayson is the saving grace that keeps Batman from losing himself to grief
Bruce sits on his couch, looks down at the despondent boy's head in his lap. eyes hollowed out. hears neither of his boys laughter
He sees Robin's grief polluted face on his boy, and remembers not just what, but who he's fighting for
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"I never want to see you on the field again Robin. Not after how you've broken my trust"
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Batman does everything to find who Jason trusted more than his own father, who could have trusted his boy just as much, who was the Robin that dragged his youngest into the night
Not once does he think to ask his eldest what he knew
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Precious Robin photos are locked away where only he and Jason know
Because Robin is magic
Robin is useless
She has no place upon Little Jason's altars
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Cross-reference reliable articles and testimonies, and even a boy will learn that Batman is just barely putting in the work to not transform his justice into a suicide mission
Cross-references testimonies, and even a boy will learn that Nightwing puts nothing into holding back against Joker or Harley anymore. Dead or alive, she wants them gone
Even a boy will learn that Nightwing hardly patrols anymore
Everybody knows Batman and Nightwing ties back to Little Wing
Nobody knows where Batgirl went
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Not bullets nor fallen buildings, but grief losing three all in a fell swoop grounds Robin
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Distinguishing themselves from the rest of Gotham's upper class, the Drakes adorn their manor with artifacts of all over
Tim has too much time on his hands to not poke and prod at them all
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Once upon a time Timothy Drake threw away a wish to be treasured more than artifacts, to be loved and adored far beyond relics resilience, to last even longer than objects to get it all
Still he wishes for Little Wing and Robin back, for Bat Girl's return and the quartet of heroes he stalked night after night as they once were
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
She It puts its hands off of the mirror and peeled off its mask
The Drake couple's son sat there again
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
It's not a monkey's paw — it's close enough
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Tim's plan was to blackmail Batman, pick out its name, and leash the Dark Knight until he was mentally fit again
What it didn't plan for was for Nightwing to apparently know about its magic and track it down
It didn't think it would take this long to pick a name either. Heck it thought Nightwing and Batman cut contact
"Last time I trusted you with a child he died B!"
"I know better now, and unlike you I have the resources to train him to his fullest potential. Little Wing is proof!"
"How fucking dare you?!"
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Nightwing looks down at Timothy Drake, tears in her eyes
Dick Grayson-Wayne tastes salt on his tongue
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Between the fact Batkid would be forced to reveal his identity to Batman and statistics showing his increasing violence, how quick he was to put his hand on Robin's throat, versus to Nightwing, the first Robin, his answers is always the same
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Everybody agrees that the Second Robin looks delicate and precious. The birdie shouldn't be giving up their childhood for Gotham
That is all
Anybody can tell you what good the bird does, leashing the Bat, breaking Nightwing out of her grief, giving whatever the little child can for civilians in need, sinners or not
People can hardly agree on how Robin looks; she looks like my dead daughter, no he's a clone of my son! You idiots they look like those sweet kids I always babysit
All they agree on is that Robin looks as if they must be protected and treasured by their loved ones, not fighting crime
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Where Nightwing can hardly be touched, Robin recovers too quickly, even by its predecessor's standards
All but rarely, bullets, crushing weights, and strikes may all well be nonexistent the way Robin hardly scratches
Unless one has a meta's intense strength, they will find more progress attacking it's mind or delaying its goals
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Nightwing blows a fuse Robin hadn't even known existed when she catches wind of all the work its putting into bringing Batman back to the ideal hero he used to be
She doesn't let it overhear the fight this time
From then on she is always with Robin when it patrols
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Tim huffed as Dick clung to him and Bruce got to arranging himself as his guardian for whenever his parents were out Gotham
Apparently his magic was a filthy traitor! and made a link with Nightwing so that if he was ever in major danger, the heroine who pick up on it
Not only that, but it's been working as a tracker for Nightwing this entire time, the first time around wasn't just an ordinary magic thing like they thought
And they both found while Robin was calming down Batman
But why was Batman insisting on becoming his not-parent if he didn't have a link with him? Nor know about his double life?
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Batman and Nightwing are certain they know what Robin looks like. A perfect blend between Batgirl, the first Robin, and Little Wing, their greatest failures all in one
It's when they disagree on the more precise details of Robin's costume and it's features do they realize it wasn't civilians and rogues being tricked by the darkness
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
It looked into the mirror in its room in the Wayne Manor
Scrutinizing it's reflection, it looked the same as always, a perfect blend between Batgirl, the first Robin, Little Wing, and Nightwing
Androgynous if leaning on the feminine side
That ideal the Batclan perfectly displayed at its brightest, a living, breathing altar of their glory
It's teammates agreed with it, until last night it seemed
It didn't understand
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Jason Robin comes back magic
Talia's son and daughter tells her otherwise
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"Great work Robin," Oracle praised, tucking in some of its loose locks as it turned from its computer to her
The younger hero beamed
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Well then, if neither of them can be Robin yet . . .
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
It's funny how Nightwing learns she isn't the only one with Waltz in her bloodline. At least, she thinks they both got it from genetics. It was alway an assumption on her part
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Spoiler becomes the reason criminals and rogues alike flail about uselessly, making long reaching swings whenever. Nobody spots him until it's too late, if at all
Invisibility his beloved 💜💟💜
Even better are the freebies that come before he fights anybody. Little spoilers that make taking his dad's and other villains men down less of a trial
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Red Hood's violence is distinctive even in Gotham
Yet blowing an entire warehouse to cripple the Joker for good seemed extreme
Then again, it was Joker, extreme measures called
When word spreads of a Little Robin Hood under her care? It explains enough for those without intention to stick their dick in crazy
And thank the Waltz, because the two will never confess it, but it was a trauma-triggered accident
All because the dollar store clown was pissy over names
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"Dad—!" Bruce's hand ruffled his hair again as the other arm wrapped itself around Tim
Yeah Tim wasn't ever coming out about being Robin if Batman fussed over the two identities this much already. It was a wonder Dick somehow outdid him. He giggled
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
'Big W for Gotham queers' a merry goon tweets on duty, not that she'll confess it over her dead body
'What happened?' another twitter user comments
'Red Hood uses she/they, said so themself'
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Bruce couldn't have been faster in adopting Stephanie after Spoiler spilled Cluemaster's identity
"Holy, your dad is suffocating. I'm not complaining but how do you get anything done when he's bear hugging you?"
Tim sipped his coffee, "That's sort of our fault for dangling two too many kids he can't adopt and treasure in front of him for years on end. Follow me." She quirked an eyebrow
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Every blow Red Hood lays screams how that bomb did
Their strikes keep her targets down, and the impacts of her attacks have a larger area of effect than they should
There is no keeping them down
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"Our dad is Batman?" Stephanie ran around the room
"Not just that, you're brothers—" It watched its sister turn to it and she squinted.
"Are queers," it choked on its coffee with her comment
"Me too Robin!" Spoiler said, running up to it to bearhug it in his own way
"Let me go!"
"Nope! You look way too adorable like this!"
"You guys are the worst!"
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Little Robin Hood is the most elusive of them all, no doubt hiding herself from his mother when out at night
The greatest of Batman's heirs he strives to be; She doesn't rest until she is the pinnacle of Human, the pinnacle of a Waltz
he doesn't rest until he's picked up his predecessors own unique magics set as a prodigy would, even as the learning curve fights against her mastery of it
She won't rest even after becoming better than his siblings
He must surpass them so much they could never hope to outdo their superior sibling
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"Yo," Stephanie said, as if it wouldn't make Tim shriek and leap from his couch
"How did you get here?" He made sure this safehouse was the most secure and secretive of them all, how?
"Stalker tracker." She grinned
Her too?! Tim sat back on his couch and screamed into his pillows. His sister laughed
"Want a spoiler on my dad's next puzzle?"
"Give it," wait shit the magic word, "please Steph."
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Cassandra fisted and unfisted her(?) hand
It was more of a man's now. Except she didn't feel like a man, she felt like— scratch that, she didn't feel like a girl either in this form
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Robin gasped as its legs carried more broken bones and injuries than it ever had on its body all at once before
This time the wounds weren't sliding off like water but clinging onto it
"Hood—" a blow to its stomach
"Replacement," the woman hissed at it, then screamed
Robin shifted to its side, resisting the urge to cry out in pain, Nightwing now sat on Red Hood, laying blow after blow on the intruder
And she was yelling herself hoarse
Its sister unlatched and threw the helmet—okay bomb, wow its ears were ringing—off
And then Nightwing was on top of a man
"Little Wing!" its sister shrieks, arms wrapped around the stranger. "Why— why— how?"
"Baby on board! Baby on board! Ack!" Spoiler screamed holding up who might be Little Robin Hood trying and failing to escape his hold. both of them were covered in blood and blows
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Nightwing sat them all down, "Here's what's happening, we're going to keep this to ourselves. I've lost all trust in Bruce with any of your well beings."
"We're going to make it look like Red Hood fought Robin and then fought me as I bought time for my mentee's escape. When Spoiler comes into the scene fighting Little Robin, Red Hood is going to retreat for his sake.
"Robin, you're going to scrub and altar the data in the towers to make this believable; Spoiler, you'll alter or remove any evidence showcasing otherwise; and you two."
Red Hood's grip tightened on her knees.
Nightwing passed a piece of paper, "You're staying in contact with us, I refuse to lose my family again."
A weary smile, "And we'd love to get to know our new sibling."
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
A ballerina becomes Gotham's latest sensation
It's a wonder he— "Gender neutral, they/them" They didn't get hired to perform at Brucie's galas sooner
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Robin blocked Little Robin Hood's katana with its staff. the latter swung at its legs. it latched its hands onto her arm in retaliation and knocked his blade from his hands
Pinned to the ground, the boy could only try and reach for her fallen weapon as the staff was planted right next to her head—
"That's enough training for the day," Red Hood cut them off, "and your final scores are . . . "
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"Big bro, big bro, big bro!" Stephanie dragged a girl right to Dick
"Guess what," her grin couldn't get any wider
"You kidnapped a staff member?" her grin got wider
"I kidnapped a sibling" she pointed at the girl, or rather, the ballerina their father hired for the gala
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
He took his face mask off at the worst time
"Jaylad," Bruce's grip all but clawed at Jason's arms
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
When Jason declared they wouldn't reunite with his father, period, Damian was incensed
Now he may just give anything to go back before they did. But since he can't do that, the next best thing is uppercutting Todd for getting them adopted
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
"No more heroism Jaylad—no more Robin—no Little Wing," Bruce said between sobs
Oh he's not a hero anymore alright
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
When Batman found Robin sore all over, more wounded than he'd ever seen, his heart fell
Robin admitting it already healed from most of its injuries by the time he found it flew him into a rage
He threw himself into detaining Red Hood, trying to sieze Little Robin Hood from him, and upping security so his kids, civilian or vigilante, wouldn't suffer like this again
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Assassin, Talia, the League had trained a boy, a child to be an assassin. They did the same with Jason
Bruce refuses to let his children—vigilante or civilian—suffer again
Thankfully, with how the chaos of legally reviving Jason, and adopting three children in one fell swoop has cooled down, it seems maintaining a healthy relationship with his civillian family is all it will take to keep them from the streets
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Duke stumbled to his feet, and rushed to a window
They blinked and rubbed her eyes several times over, but its reflection never agreed with what they looked like
Actually, looking down at her hands, it felt and looked more like she was constantly shapeshifting; even his clothes, or hero costume, as was the theme but it never felt uncomfortable keep changing form
This was their meta power? He almost wanted to call out how lame it was but she had to maintain a secret identity somehow
Hold on, she—?
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Don't get Duke wrong, he was endlessly grateful for Bruce
But if Bruce was as good and smothering of a parent like his siblings said, We Are Robin would be down a leader
Everybody had noticed just how much Batman was gunning for Red Hood. Nobody knew why; was it a consequence of her killing his nemesis Joker? Because they stole the name of Little Wing's killer?
Whatever it was, the streets felt less safe when people could gamble on the Bat's activity in accordance to Hood's and be less fearful of the hero, and somebody had to do something about it
Even if it was an army of powerless youth, led by a meta
Duke prayed to every confirmed deity that Bruce never caught him sneaking out
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Dick stood in front of Duke. Duke who was in their Robin costume, oh shit, this was the worst time to not have enough light to flashbang somebody, he noted down to always a source of light or some absorbed for now on
Her brother clasped his hands and smiled, "well then Robin"
Duke's breath hitched—this was the end of everything it worked for
Nightwing, the original Robin took Dick's place, "welcome to the family"
WHAT THE FUCK?!
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
We Are Robin's leader becomes Signal
⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅ ✩⏝̅⏝̅⏝̅
Damn did I run out of steam at the end
"But nonnie, why is Waltz's world accessible through so many different means?" Idk XDDDDD
Everything I touch becomes a fic I have an actual problem lmao
Extra Notes and Clarifications, apologies for the mess, I'm jumping from section to section as I write and copy and paste
Batman and Bruce have a clearer line dividing the two than canon since only Barbara and Alfred (and others I may not know/forgot from canon) are in his inner circle and aware of his double life—to his knowledge
Speaking of Barbara and Alfred, I haven't done them any justice, nor given them much attention
How the batkids having Waltz's World affects them by consequence alongside other AU elements, I did not account for, well I did so for Barbara but hardly at all
I just implied that Oracle and Waltz!Tim have a relationship, and it goes without saying Barbara and Alfred has different relationships with the Wayne kids than Oracle and Agent A do the Batkids
Back to Bruce---
Knowing multiple kids, most of them feminine in gender identity and/or appearance, fighting crime with only him as a well-off adult figure in their lives makes him concerned
Partly because he doesn't know how they are doing out of costume or what trauma they've covered up with the faster magical healing of their bodies
And also partly sexism since he'll have biases subconsciously at the very least
Honestly an entire fic made of this AU could have a focus/subplot tackling sexism, queerphobia, and other biases, how they intersect, + exploring internalized biases on the Batsiblings part
Bruce wants to have his mentees safe under his roof, siblings with his own kids, and full-time civilians for their own wellbeing
This pushed him to adopt Dick and everyone else unlike/quicker than canon from a subconscious want to make that dream a reality even back when it was just the first Robin around
Bruce abusing his vigilante kids as he does in canon, plus more if you want him to abuse them more than canon, is arguably even more fucked than in canon
Because I imagine compared to canon, here he would be investing even more into his relationships for his kids on the civilian and vigilante side due to guilt from hiding half himself
He expresses his love for them both even more, which will fuck with said kids coming to terms with their abuse. It's even more of an uphill battle
"Wow, look at that plothole-topia!" I say sipping my abuelita knowing damn well who architected it (me)
I never established how Dick learned Bruce = Batman or if he knew at all RIP
Hey maybe Dick and Jason never learns that Batman = Bruce until Tim comes and spills the tea. That could be fun
At first I was gonna have everyone's Waltz form be the "opposite" gender to theirs but then I got to Tim, thought about how I set him up to wanna be loved just like the Drake's did things over their son
I thought about how back when he was just taking photos, he had an idealized picture (pun intended) of the Bats, an idealized image. a concept; a thing
And how that could lead to his own Waltz form being one that used it/its like people do for things
So then I got experimental with it
Methinks Tim would be agender &/or gendervoid in Waltz
Dick eventually settles on the fact he's genderfluid, and later on occasionally using she/her as Grayson and he/him as Robin/Nightwing
Lets say it's cuz he always wanted to be like both is parents that his Waltz makes him so
He views the change in gender identity and pronouns as him tossing a coin; whenever he flips the coin to the Nightwing side, she sees herself female, when flipped to Dick's side, he's male
Rarely the coin tossing itself without his input and lands on the thin side; that's when Dick identifies as the gender she does in her other identity
Jason accepts that he falls under solidly cis since even they/them is dysphoric for him; he once experimented with they/she cuz he wanted to be like his older brother-sister
Then the lazarus pit happen, she winds up using they/she in Waltz form and he/him as Jason
Views himself as a cis as Jason; a demigirl as Red Hood. Maybe she's still figuring things out? idk
Since he had the Waltz World magic just like their sister who was Nightwing now, she could be Robin now!
Then she learned about Damian and Tim calling dibs before her and that made them and Dami fight
Damian and Jason call truce on the grounds of Tim being a common enemy and obstacle in being Robin, so Damian goes to Gotham with Jason
Damian was dunked in the same pit as Jason here, hence why he also got a Waltz form
for plot convenience, they are the exception and not the rule when it comes to lazarus waters and Waltz's World
He wanted to inherit the Robin or Little Wing mantle as Bruce's heir, and fantasized about donning both, thus his Waltz form is bigender, she/he, boy and girl; maybe Damian decides he's also she/he and boy and girl as a civilian as well
Damian's Waltz form is the perfect balance between first Robin's and Little Wing's fem and masc gender presentations, so when you know what to look for it's obvious she's bigender, boy and girl
I made Steph and Cass have Waltz in their bloodlines just as Richard does because I couldn't come up with creative ways for them to join Waltz's World like the boys, lo siento :(
But you can do fun stuff with three non-blood related people sharing the same magic in their genetic history
For Steph I decided to make her intergender, mostly female as Steph, mostly male as Spoiler, but uses he/him as Steph and She/her as spoiler more often than Dick
Steph views her gender as a seesaw; being Steph the saw in pointed towards she/her, and being Spoiler points it in he/him, but sometimes the saw does the exact opposite and sometimes the saw tips a bit less than his form's typical gender so she feels a bit more like a boy or a girl when in civillian or Waltz
She thinks she will reach a point where the saw begins to perfectly balance itself or get close enough that she feels more like using they/them instead but she doesn't know if her guess is accurate yet
Cassandra I think would flip flop trying to figure out if they're Gendernuetral or Genderless in Waltz form, maybe eventually deciding that using Orphan and other (nick)names is preferable to pronouns and discards pronouns
An idea I had for Damian, where he used the pronouns and gender identities of all the other batkids, got given to Duke instead
Since Duke is basically the motherfucking moon with how he absorbs light and We Are Robin is all about taking on Robin's name and duties, I tweaked his own Meta abilities to copy and paste their all the batkids Waltz schtick and genders since that's bascially his desire at the moment
Also his meta power converted itself into Waltz Magic 100%, no refunds, so that's gonna be a fun surprise when he claims to just be a Meta copying their magic and he's proven wrong, he's magic too
But an AU of this AU where his meta abilities truly are just duplicating the magic would be fun to check-out
Oh yeah, idk shit about the time periods the batkids grew up in or what it'd be like be growing up coming to terms with being queer even in modern day so I'm useless on that part
But let's just say that;
Dick grew up traveling plenty and was introduced to queer identity at a young age, so while awakening his power freak her out a bit, she takes it in stride
Jason has a more rigid understanding due to a lack of education on the streets, but after learning about Robin, Dick teaches him what he knows about queerness
Tim grew up as a rich kid taught cisnormativity by both his parents and others he grew up around
As a result he expects himself to be a man through and through. It's a bit of a learning curve on his part
+ in Waltz form it thinks its a she because it looks feminine, only to unconsciously correct itself while freaking out after transforming for the first time
For all Tim knows, his stalking did not lead him to learn about Robin's magic including ✨gender✨
So when the artifact grants his wishes, concious and subconcious?
Tim is confused about the Waltz stuff, hence why it defaults to its/it and doesn't try to force itself to use she/her pronouns, cuz its still figuring stuff out and more focussed on the Bats than gender identity
Then comes in Dick to teach Tim about queerness as he once did for Jason
I dunno jack shit about the cultures Damian grew up in under the league so I dunno how Damian would take the whole Waltz thing at first
I think Jason would fill in some gaps in the case Damian has more to learn about bening genderqueer; maybe the League and Dami even teach Jason their own understandings of gender
No clue how Steph or Cassandra or Duke would take the Waltz thing before joining the bat siblings
I should get into clarifying the magic
Dick's magic is all about acrobatics and enhancing her body in ways that ascends her ability to preform them
Tim's is all about being wanted; being the perfect image of what kind of person those seeing it want to protect and treasure above all else. It's outfit and features craft an illusion different to everybody else's eyes
Tim's Waltz form is to itself, an idealized all-in-one combo of the vigilantes it worshipped and followed on the streets
Continuing the "Treasure me" theme, Tim also makes Links with other Waltz's World people it trusts that alert them when it's in serious danger and allows them to track it down whenever
Plus it works when in its Waltz and civillian identities 24/7
and he can't control them, much to his annoyance, a wee bit of karma for his own stalking tendencies
Additionally Tim's wanted to last the elements and foes like ancient artifacts did, so it becomes a tank in the face of hurt
Stephanie can turn invisible whenever he wants alongside what he has in hand and whoever he touches; plus he get one trailormade spoiler per enemies to give him an advantage
Maybe in time the number of spoilers he can get per enemy increases, and
Jason is also a tank that can't be kept down and every assault they lay have way more power to them than other humans could hope to do
Damian has the power to copy the magic of other Waltz users, the problem lies in that it get exponentially harder the better he gets at their magic
Because again, she's trying to take in magic not not made for her, and as the family grows, he's run himself thin trying to master multiple magics fighting against it all at once
That could be an interesting conflict
Once he does master a copied magic, he's good to go, it comes to him as easily as if it were his own magic
On top of that is the much more natural body enchanting magic that make her a perfect assassin
Cassandra's magic lets them learn at a rapid pace. She had to as an assassin. Through it, they learn how to speak, cultural norms and other nessecery life skills
It also enhancing their ballerina skillset, launching their fame
Outside of Duke duplicating all his siblings gender identities, her magic is just like their canon meta abilities; it's just Waltz magic instead of meta abilities
Oh yeah, Duke also shapeshifts endlessly in Waltz form without pause, to look like one batsibling to the next, the most consistent part of her form is their Signal costume which still alters in appearance all the time
Other stuff I didn't adress oh frick
How does those a part of Waltz's World keeping it a secret too themselves affect the batkids relationship with everyody else?
How does the Waltz World stuff affect everybodies relationships period?
What affect does knowing Jason was an is formerly Little Wing have on Bruce, Alfred and Barbara throughout the storyline? On their relationship with eachother
Since Batman and Oracle are two of the few wholly human heroes in this AU unlike canon, Little Wing's death probably cause a huge reaction in the super community cuz one of the very rare human heroes fucking died
On top of that, back when it was only Robin and no one else, Batman and co. tried to find others with the same magic as the sidekick, only to come out emptyhanded; Is anything ever done with any knowledge acquired during the failed investigation?
Because Robin likely told Batman what little he knew about Waltz's World at the time, alongside other investigators when they tried to learn more or find other like Robin. That data is saved somewhere
After Jason's death, Nightwing distanced himself from Batman and went back to self-teaching, so Batman would no longer have Dick as a resource to learn about Waltz's World; he, Barbara and Alfred would have to piece together clues by themselves
And I think they'd have to learn all on their own Nightwing's inner circle so-to-speak are also part of Waltz's World
Batman is pulling his hair out because where are these Waltz users coming from all of the sudden? Where were they when he was looking for them?
Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if that became the name of the squad since as far as they know, only they have this very magic; Waltz's World
How does Waltz magic interest with sciences or other magics or divinity, etc etc?
oh yeah another thing, Waltz's World in Mahou Shoujo Jihen canonically ceases the aging process, but let's tweak it and say that Waltz's World pauses a person's age at the moment their body reaches their physical peak, meaning the batkids will eventually discover themselves unaging, unlike their father and countless other people dear to them
Forgive me if I'm wrong I've got a poor memory
Also I dunno much about the actual Waltz dance, but a quick google search (ruh, roh, that cooked engine) says it used to have strict roles for men and woman
That's what Waltz's World is named after in the manga, it grants men a woman's body and vice versa, the two genders needed for the dance
But in modern day, where societal constructs of gender are being demolished and rebuilt in front of countless eyes (not to say that it never was before modern times, its just way more accessible to witness with the internet) the way people view and preform the Waltz would and has changed as well
This is all to say I thought I threw the Waltz symbolism from the manga into the bin when I decided "lets experiment with MORE genders!" only to realize it never went anywhere at all
By the Waltz, now my brain is cooked
My final idea unless I realize I wanna send another ask with ideas I only came up with after pressing [Ask] is that the Waltz dance itself could be used in a fic of this AU as a motif; so imagine a hypothetical fic with me---
Every batkid and batkid duo and three-or-more batkids all preform the Waltz multiple times throughout the fic
As their own understanding of their gender identities grow and change, the way they preform the Waltz drifts away more and more from how couples did the Waltz long ago, and they add their own personal flairs to the Waltz dances. the way they preform the Waltz becomes more and more their way instead of the tradtional way
It reaches a point where once they can confidentally answer "Who am I?" the can dance their Waltzes to the fullest of their ability and euphoria as a metaphor for the very gender euphoria they feel all together at the moment; maybe they even swap between civillian and magical forms during their dance
Hell maybe the non-existant fic ends with a scene of the batkids preforming that very Waltz preformance I described
I think I'm out of ideas at last
Go crazy, go stupid with this AU people, play with it however you wanna
I can't even begin to describe how ecstatic I was reading this. A gender queer batfam fic rules, but to add on it/its pronouns? Fuck. Gods, I'm so happy with that.
Alright! So, I have no idea about the Waltz World source material, but I'm chill with that. I like the concept as it's described.
Because gender is a social construct, it is completely okay to have different gender identities/pronouns depending on the social environment (or, like this AU, the vigilante and civilian personas having various gender preferences).
So, let's create a list to make the pronouns clear:
Dick: he/him (sometimes her), Nightwing: she/her (sometimes he)
Jason: he/him, Red Hood: she/they
Tim: he/him, Robin: it/its
Steph: she/her (sometimes he), Spoiler: he/him (sometimes her)
Damian: she/him, Robin Hood: he/her
Cass: no pronouns
Duke: all pronouns (does this include neopronouns?), Signal: all pronouns
Bruce: he/him, Batman: he/him
Barbara: she/they, Oracle: she/they
Alfred: he/him
I like the idea of no pronouns for Cass since Cass was taught language later in life and thus doesn't associate Cass or Orphan with pronouns. I also gave Barbara she/they pronouns because being gender queer is not exclusive to Waltz World. That magic affects one's gender expression (and also affects how the individual may perceive their gender identity in different forms).
Alfred is definitely in the background, ironing out a plethora of pride flags based on whatever he figures out about others' current thoughts on their LGBT labels (he's discrete to those who haven't come out or told others yet). He also makes rainbow cookies, multicolored drinks, and displays photos around the house with subtle pride flags incorpated in their colors (like those sunset LGBT photos). The pride flag photos are as many as Alfred can find, regardless if any of the flags relate to one of the family members. It's the dealer's choice on whether Bruce knows the specifics or if he knows, from Alfred's actions, that at least one of his kids is queer.
Might I add that I love that you addressed that Bruce probably has some subconscious sexism that affects him attitude.
As far as queerphobia and all the discussions they can have about that, there is so much to interact with there. For instance, their socioeconomic background would affect their queerness (as far as how they are treated within the community, by those outside it, by those within the various minority or majority group they belong to, what it's like for those with more or less money, etc). They could also discuss their specific issues regarding their particular gender identity (Tim with the it/its pronouns, Cass with none, Duke with all of them, Damian with using both she and he, Jason with considering himself cisgender outside of Waltz, etc).
Because I want to have more representation where queerness is normalized, imma hc that Gotham (besides Bristol) is accepting. There's various levels of understanding/knowledge into distinct labels, colors, history, etc., but it's normal to use whatever pronouns (or lackof) that people say to use. There's no reaction at all to people's various gender expressions, partners, etc. It's normal to just be chill with it in Gotham, but it's debatable whether the person quite knows all the details (like that interview: "How many genders are there?" "I don't know. I just got here").
Outside of Gotham and online, there's the horrid shit. There's also other pockets of full acceptance around the world like Gotham. Metropolis is one of them (which is another reason why Gotham and Metropolis have such a rivalry).
The JL typically doesn't care about gender standards. A lot of them are not from Earth, so those societies (or other ones they have been exposed to) might not follow a binary gender structure. Those from Atlantis are around sea creatures that can switch their gender. Wonder Woman and those of her similar background grew up around the same myths that talk about gods and people switching into all kinds of stuff (animals, different genders, trees, etc). There may be a few that aren't aware initially of the many possibilities, but they either become accepting or get kicked out (fuck queerphobia).
There may be some subconscious shit in these more safe spaces, but overall people don't give a fuck what you identify as or who you get with (or if you don't get with anyone).
At the same time, I'd love for Batman to have to give an HR-similar presentation on queerness to the entire JL. Maybe they have one every year (including ones for different minorities [which incorporates metas and various alien species]) to discuss how to help folks of different background and how to be respectful of their culture/identity/behaviors/etc.
Anyways! Love the AU
#dc comics#dc universe#bruce wayne#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#dc au#damian wayne#steph brown#duke thomas#cass wayne#barbara gordon#thank you for the ask!!!!#alfred pennyworth#don't like don't interact
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Look, you hid in a place you knew, where you could feel safe... I understand the motivation."
Buddie fans... Sometimes I just feel tired to navigate this fandom, okay. Feels like it's always;
"Gay Eddie, gay Eddie, gay Eddie.... Oh no! They're now writing him like he really loved Shannon, I don't like this because then he's straight and buddie cannot happen!!"
Yeah umm... And why would Eddie's love for Shannon be any kind of threat to buddie?
Haven't we already worked on this equation before, guys...?
Ahem.
✨Bisexuality does exist!✨
There is no reason why Eddie can't have loved, can't still love them both:
Shannon and Buck.
Sure, might sound odd with how rocky the marriage was but let's remember that we never got to see the beginning of Eddie's and Shannon's romance, the magical era before their naïve, immature highschool sweetheart romance was hit on the head with adulthood problems.
Really, Shannon isn't a threat to buddie. Buck obviously loved Abby, too, and eventually moved on.
The thing is, it was maybe just a bit easier for Buck, to move on, since what Abby didn't do was know Buck for like half his life, have a child with him, suddenly abandon Buck and his child for umm years, then return and beg for forgiveness, then once she was forgiven... reject Buck's proposal and ask for a divorce, and then promptly die in front of Buck. As a nice juicy cherry on top of this already very well baked "bye bye mental health"-cake.
All of this might, you know, kinda traumatise someone and make the grieving process extra hard, and make regaining trust in people and love kinda tricky, and overall, make moving on a fairly slow, complicated uphill battle.
Doesn't mean it's impossible!
And yes I know, obviously Eddie romanticizes Shannon. That's what people who are grieving tend to do!
That doesn't mean he never loved her. Flaws and conflicts can co-exist with love, you know. I mean, I don't know about you guys but everyone I've ever loved has been flawed, and all of my deepest human relationships have sailed through some rocky terrain.
The love has been the most persistent passenger on all of those rides. I think some rocks I've sailed through with people have even made our love deeper. Because sometimes conflicts make the relationships more intense, make you get to know the other person a bit better, conflicts can pull you closer to each other. So yes, even if you happen to get close because you just really need to yell at their face... Well, what you're feeling in that moment is hardly indifference, is it.
And also, with the way Eddie has also been throwing heart-eyes at Buck, for years...? Before Shannon returned and asked for forgiveness, even.
Clinging to this concept of a magical romance with Shannon might just be Eddie's safe place to hide, his avoidance tactic, the way he hides most of his (seemingly) unrequited feelings for Buck from himself, and others.
Maybe Eddie thinks he cannot really love Buck that much... if Shannon is the greatest love of his life. To Eddie it might feel like it's just not safe to love Buck because loving Buck would likely just lead to more pain.
So that may be one reason why Eddie has been clinging to this idea of a perfect, magical romance with Shannon, one reason why we're hearing all this
"Shannon, oh Shannon, you are the love of my life, the only person I've ever loved."
Maybe it's because to Eddie, that must be true. It's how he protects himself from pain.
And it's also how he cherishes the memory of her. Because confronting her humanity, the reality of how troubled their relationship was... might mean letting go of her, and moving on from her, and that's hard because Eddie loved her, and he doesn't really want to confront the truth.
And the truth is that the fairytale is over, that she was in fact very much a human, just a person, just another mortal like the rest of us... Flawed.
And that means that she wasn't untouchable, that death really took her and she's truly gone.
#ryan guzman#eddie díaz#bi eddie diaz#eddie diaz#buddie#evan buckley#911 buddie#911 abc#buddie 911#evan buck buckley#911 on abc#tv: 911#shannon diaz#i did not make these gifs btw
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Danganronpa Characters as the Dungeon Meshi races
Makoto - Half-foot/human hybrid because he is forever short and baby-faced. It's been confirmed in side material that tall-man are able to produce children with halflings and gnomes and the offspring can reproduce (unlike half-elves) so I think it makes sense to have Makoto connected to the most underestimated races. In an adventuring party, he does a lot of the halfling jobs like looking for and dismantling traps. I also think because of his caring nature and how accident-prone he is Makoto learned some healing spells from his party's mage. He has low mana thought (2/5) so it's really in case of emergencies or as a simple first aid until real help can come.
Nagito - A half-elf. I think it would suit his brand of luck; born with a natural lifespan of 1000 years but has to watch anyone and everyone he loves pass away. Because he still has his luck cycles, everyone is sure is some kind of curse but no mage can do anything about it, let alone even understand it. He probably would go through a lot, losing his parents, being discriminated against, being sold off into illegal slavery, and probably a bunch of health problems. But Nagito is still Nagito, he just keeps kicking away.
Hajime - A normal tall-man who was frustrated with the fact that he was never particularly special in anything. I think when he found out he had even a hint of magic he begged his parents to send him to a magic boarding school they could barely afford, only to find out first-hand how lacklustre his magic was compared to the kids. Hajime pushed himself to continue studying, which lead him down a path of dungeon hunting, and of demons. He made a deal which backfired on him, turning into a Lord of the Dungeon and slowly becoming "Izuru Kamukura-ised". If/when he gets out of the demon's thrall, his case is a lot like Mithrun's. Although he does have more skills outside of wanting to hunt demons, that was because of the initial deal he made. Hajime lost the ability to enjoy his talents or get satisfaction from being skilled. He is more talented than ever but he is incapable of enjoying it.
Junko and Mukuro - Demons. Junko is a demon that helps people achieve their hopes and desires and feeds on their happiness. This makes people think she is the nicer sister but that just means she enjoys giving people what they want and watching their despair as they lose the capacity to enjoy it. Mukuro is described as a 'war demon' because she grants humans their wishes with violence and feeds off their rage and the resulting bloodbath. However, over time she actually grew to love the humans (at least more than Junko) because it was so shocking to see the kindness that mortal beings can show each other, especially when she has seen first-hand the cruelty they are capable of.
Now for the shorter ideas that I still think are interesting:
Fuyuhiko - A half-foot that is the heir to a shockingly powerful crime/loan shark family. His family flew under the radar for a long while because the Elves and Gnomes kept underestimating them until they become so powerful they couldn't be handled.
Peko - A tall-man who was abandoned by her parents when she was young and was brought by Fuyuhiko's family to be his servant and bodyguard.
Chihiro - A Gnome mage who is very talented in communicating with spirits. He has one such spirit that he has raised all by himself that is this reality's 'Alter Ego'.
A minor thing, in a side comic it was said that the races consider music to be the thing that Tallmen are known for, so I think all the characters who have interest in music are Tallmen. That includes Kaede, Sayaka, Ibuki, Hiyoko, and Leon.
I'd love to hear people's thoughts and suggestions!!
#danganronpa#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#makoto naegi#hajime hinata#nagito komaeda#fuyuhiko kuzuryu#fuyuhiko kuzuyruu#peko pekoyama#junko enoshima#junko#izuru kamukura#mukuro ikusaba#chihiro fujisaki#danganronpa au#dunmeshi#my post#crossover
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
aphrodite’s anger
“You have angered Aphrodite,” the Goddess Athena stated, lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the subject of her patronage, Remus, who was scribbling away ardently on a piece of parchment at the rickety wooden desk by the slit-sized window.
He looked up with a furrowed brow, then squinted slightly as the sunlight shining through the slit hit his eyes. “How?”
Athena shot him a withering look. “I don’t know how to make this more overt. You are Remus Lupin. You are brilliantly sharp-witted and daring. You should therefore be living life to its fullest, taking courageous risks, making wild discoveries… and yet, you insist on cooping yourself up inside this shambolic shack, doing absolutely nothing. I only remain your patron in the hope that you somehow unlock your potential.”
Remus blinked. “Um. Sorry. Thank you, Goddess. But… how does this affect the Goddess Aphrodite?”
If possible, Athena looked even more annoyed. “Aphrodite does not understand why I stick with you. She has seen you rejecting adventure, never utilising your power, and, worst of all, seen you turn down love. She’s furious.”
“Oh.” Remus paused. “When did I ever turn down love?”
Athena looked like she was combusting out of frustration. She gritted her teeth. “I have helped you all I can. It is not my fault you are oblivious.” With that, she disappeared, leaving Remus to his old, derelict hut.
He wasn’t alone for long though, because only a few seconds later, the fisherman from the other side of the island swung the door open, calling, “Come out for a stroll, my love!”
Remus rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Sirius, I am not your love.”
Sirius mock-pouted. “Fine. But it’s not healthy to just stay in here all day! Come down to the coast, Remus.”
“I’ll pass.”
Sirius frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“…Nothing? Don’t I always turn you down?”
Sirius shrugged. “Yes. But usually you only look slightly pathetic, still convinced that you’re happy to live vicariously through your imaginary stories,” he explained, gesturing to the scrolls strewn across Remus’s shack. Remus frowned, but before he could defend himself, Sirius cut him off, “Now, you look like you’ve completely given up, even on your stories.”
Remus realised the truth to this observation, and he squinted at Sirius, not because of the sunlight, but because Sirius was confusing and strange and… different. A good different. A different which made Remus want to explore it, except Remus wasn’t an explorer, no matter how much Athena insisted he was. Really, he didn’t know why the Goddess still stuck with him. Or why Sirius did, still barging into his hut every evening without fail.
Finally, he admitted, “No point in writing anymore.” He shrugged in the most careless manner he could muster. “The Goddess Aphrodite is angry with me.”
He glanced up at Sirius, whose face had immediately fallen. In fact, Sirius had completely deflated, no longer looking animated and cheerful, just lost, like he’d been punched in the gut.
Quickly, Remus added, “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s all fine. I’m fine.”
Then Sirius broke out of his frozen state, and threw himself at Remus, gripping him by the shoulders, shaking him, hugging him, vociferating, “No, this is not fine! She could kill you! Turn you into a monster! Drive you to insanity! Remus!” Remus listlessly nodded, and Sirius sighed, slumping into Remus. “I’d still love you, though. Even if you were dead, a monster, or insane. You’re already insane.”
Remus laughed at this, gently pushing Sirius off. It was a thoughtful joke. No one could really love someone like him. He was already dead: he was barely living his life. He was already a monster: every full moon since childhood, he turned into a wolf, not that Sirius knew that. And he was already insane, yes. His mind was a mess, churning with incongruous thoughts, forever spiralling and multiplying.
He looked thoughtfully at Sirius, out of his window, at his scrolls. He decided, fuck it, I’m going to die anyway, “Could I borrow a boat from you?”
Sirius raised his eyebrows, before his face split into a beautiful beam. “Come with me, my love.”
Again, Remus rolled his eyes, but this time, he actually followed the skipping Sirius out of the hut, as he frolicked like a dog through the woods, along his well-trodden path between the coast and Remus’s shack.
Remus meandered after him much more slowly, taking in the smell of the scenery. Pine, smoke, fresh grass, soil… he hadn’t been outside in so, so long, and it really showed. He had simply locked himself up in his small wooden lodge, and stayed there, even through the full moon. Ashamedly, the only food he ever ate was the fish Sirius sometimes brought up to share, when he sacrificed his time to sit cross-legged with Remus on the stained floorboards and talk about meaningless musings. Maybe even more ashamedly, those times were Remus’s most treasured.
He made it down to the coast, where Sirius was waiting, with a huge, handsome masterpiece of a boat behind him. Its prow was a tall, regal wolf, which simultaneously terrified Remus because that couldn’t be a coincidence or maybe it could, but also made him gape in awe, because it was undeniably majestic. Who ever saw a wolf in that way? Sirius just grinned at him. “She’s been waiting for you so long, dude.”
Remus blinked. Sirius looked down at his feet and bashfully hesitated, “I— I built her while I was thinking of you, just a few months ago. I didn’t think you’d ever sail her— but, now, maybe, you… could? If you wanted. There are other boats—”
Remus pressed a finger to Sirius’s lips. To silence him, but also because he just wanted to get closer. “Sirius. I love it. Thank you. I wish I could give you something this amazing too.”
If possible, Sirius grinned at him even more than before. He burst out, “Let me come with you.”
Remus frowned. “What?”
“I want to go with you. On your journey. It can be your gift to me.”
“No, coming with me won’t be a gift. I— I’m going because… either way, I’m going to die. I might as well live a little first. But if you come with me, you’ll surely die too.”
Sirius shrugged. “What if I want to live a little with you?”
“I don’t want you to die.”
“I don’t want you to die. But everyone’s going to die at some point. So let me live with you for as long as you have left.”
“I— I want to live with you too,” Remus confessed softly, to both himself and Sirius. “But it doesn’t matter. I won’t let you come.”
Sirius’s eyes flashed. “I won’t let you go without me.”
“And how will you manage that?”
“I built the boat. I know her better than you do. Don’t think I won’t be able to sneak on.”
“I’ll kick you off.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because,” and Sirius sighed, shaking his head slightly, looking up at Remus with a soft gaze, his previous temper melting. “Be safe, Remus.”
With that, he walked away, and Remus felt his chest ache, longing to reach out and pull Sirius back. But it was okay. He could now set off on his travels in solitude, like the lone wolf that he literally was. He clambered onto the boat, and realised he had no clue how to actually sail.
However, Athena was his patron for a reason, and he quickly got the hang of things. He figured out that he could untie the fabric neatly twisted around the central pole through the middle of the boat, and that it unravelled into perfectly square sheets which billowed in the direction of the wind. The boat was then propelled by the invisible force, and when the force changed direction, he could also rotate the mast so that the sails changed in the same direction.
When there was no wind, he realised how useful the oars were, and expeditiously learnt that this way meant he would go forward, this way meant he would turn left, this way meant right. He ended up in the middle of the still, open ocean, feeling incredibly accomplished. Aphrodite, he thought, I wouldn’t mind if you killed me now.
Remus stood in the middle of the deck for quite some time, arms outstretched on either side of his body as the wind blew through him, ruffling his hair and filling his nose with a pinch of salty air. He closed his eyes, relaxed, letting himself feel, without the constant pressure of thoughts.
It didn’t last long though. Because at the noise of a door banging open, his eyes immediately flew open too. Right in front of him, from a small hatch in the floorboards, three fishermen stepped out, and Remus stepped back.
“Sirius,” he stated dumbly.
Sirius grinned. “Nice to see you too, Remus. This here’s James.” He pointed to the fisherman beside him, who shared his dark hair and height, but was wildly different from him in all other aspects. While Sirius’s eyes were a metallic grey, sparkling near-white in the light, James’s were a dark brown, so dark that Remus couldn’t see what was within them. James’s hair was a bird’s nest, and Sirius’s hair was a waterfall. Sirius’s skin was pale, James’s skin was brown.
But then James smiled, “Hi,” and Remus saw it match Sirius’s mischief almost identically. This was going to be trouble. Ignoring the trouble, he turned to the other boy, raising an eyebrow.
The short, plump fisherman just hesitantly smiled at him, and Remus deemed that he was probably more sensible than the other two, but equally clueless.
“That’s Peter,” Sirius pointed. He added, “Are you going to say anything?”
Remus simultaneously wanted to remain in unresponsive silence forever, and yell his head off at Sirius. Compromising, he turned around, and said, “Get off.”
“No,” Sirius sang. “You’re stuck with us.” He paused, adding more solemnly, “We’re just here to help.”
Remus’s shoulders slumped, and he turned around in a way that he was still pointedly not looking at Sirius, but at the other two. “And you both are here because…?”
James smirked, eyeing Sirius, before saying, “We’ve heard so much about you, it’s like we know you personally. Basically, we’re already friends.”
Remus considered this, quickly realising, “You’re the two best friends Sirius is always on about!”
James muttered, “Not in the same way he’s always on about you,” while Peter smiled, asking, “So… we’re already your friends too?”
Choosing to ignore James’s nonsensical comment, he addressed Peter, shaking his head and deciding, “Yes.” Yes, they were indeed his friends.
Sirius clapped his hands together. “That was heart-warming,” he declared, juxtaposing his statement by glaring at James, for presumably more nonsensical reasons. “Anyway, we are on a mission. Onwards! I think the next island is in a couple twenty miles.”
Remus threw his head back in frustration, before turning to face Sirius, who was already glaring at him with daggers that dared, “Fight me and you’ll lose.”
“Fine,” Remus spat. “Stay and die.”
“Thank you,” Sirius spat back.
Giving up, Remus walked to the trapdoor and disappeared below deck.
“He means well,” Remus heard a voice say, maybe twenty minutes later.
He turned from one of the mattresses to see James, nearing him with an amiable smile.
Remus snorted. “To who? Himself? No, he’s going to get himself killed. To you and Peter? No, he’s put you both in danger too.”
James shrugged. “He’d never let any of us die. And he means well to you.” James then looked at Remus very intensely, and Remus’s gaze skittered across the cabin, unable to handle it. Finally, James spoke, “He loves you.”
Remus just turned around on his mattress and tried to sleep. He couldn’t. But soon, sleep didn’t matter, as the boat began to rock violently, and Remus’s mattress full-on slid to the other side of the cabin. He shot up, and hurried to the top deck, where… there was nothing. In fact, the boat was still, empty, completely silent. But before he could question everyone’s disappearance, he saw it.
The most beautiful… creature he had ever seen. He was immediately enamoured with its long, scaly body, rising up over his head as it opened its lovely jaws, which were really so mesmerising. Its roar was mellifluous. Its eyes were so yellow and shiny. The creature made him feel so calm, peaceful, and he stepped closer and closer—
“NO!” The ferocious cry cut through Remus’s thoughts. His head jerked to the side abruptly, trying to locate its source as he deliriously concluded that actually the thing that made that cry had the most mellifluous voice in the world… so magical…
The beast roared again. No, that was the prettiest—
“LEAVE HIM!” No, that was the prettiest—
Roar! No, that was the prettiest—
“YOU VILE, REPUGNANT MONSTER!” A series of grunts, accompanied by the slashing of a sword. Remus shook his head, eyes landing on Sirius as he lunged at a giant serpent, which hissing at him, poised to kill him…
Remus didn’t know what to do. Well, there was one thing. He’d never done it before. It required a very strong emotion. And Remus didn’t do strong emotions. Only, he did, he just bottled them up and pretended they didn’t exist. But, looking at Sirius, he felt it churning within him, bursting from the seams of his skin as it exploded, erupted, surged out from the depths of his heart. Love.
Yes, okay, kill him for it — he was irrevocably in love with Sirius. Happy? The wolf within him was happy, at least. He let it grip onto the powerful emotion, let it overcome him, let himself transform, forcefully, willingly, in the light of a crescent moon. Before he was fully transformed, still with a grasp on his consciousness, he leapt onto the serpent, to ensure that it was the thing he would attack.
And attack it he did. They tore at each other, roaring, howling, ripping off chunks of flesh — no worse than what Remus did to himself, really, locked up in a tiny shack. Soon the wolf realised the serpent’s weakness: every time a claw swiped near one of its eyes, it would flinch, blink rapidly, reel backward. And so, the wolf quickly pierced its two bulbous eyes with a flash of claws, and suddenly, the serpent collapsed, and both of them tumbled into the sea.
Remus transformed back as he broke the surface, broken, defeated, with viscous yellow pus coating his hands, and blood dribbling from the cuts all over his chest, swirling in the dark blue water. He didn’t have the energy to swim back up. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to, anyway. Sirius had seen him as a wolf. As soon as he emerged, he’d be slaughtered. And he wouldn’t let the man he loved get any blood on his sweet, innocent hands.
But apparently, he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Because arms were wrapping around him, pulling him up to the surface, and as soon as they reached air, he heard two desperate inhales. One was his own. The other was… Sirius.
Sirius stared at him, breathing heavily into his face, and Remus knew he was doing the exact same. Their arms were wrapped around each other, and they were impossibly close, and Sirius looked relieved, not disgusted.
“So,” Remus caught his breath. “I— I’m a werewolf.”
Sirius released a breathy laugh, gesturing to the prow piece. “I know.”
“What? And you still… did all this?”
Sirius nodded, eyes sparkling, a small, shy smile on his face.
Remus blinked, squeezing Sirius to make sure he was real, which caused Sirius’s smile to grow less shy, more wide. “But— but you called that monster,” and Remus pointed below, “vile, and—”
“Shh,” Sirius whispered, breathing into his mouth, and Remus immediately shut up. “You’re not a monster. I distinctly remember being concerned that Aphrodite would turn you into a monster. Why would I be worried about that if I thought you were one already?”
“Oh.” Remus paused. “Well, your concerns were erroneous. I think Aphrodite’s punishment was to enchant me with a monster.”
Sirius grimaced. “Don’t tell me you were in love with that thing.”
Remus shook his head. “I broke the enchantment.”
“Uh… how?”
Remus sucked in a breath. “Well, real love usually has the power to overcome fake infatuations.”
“Oh? So, who are you really in love with, then? Hmm,” Sirius teasingly pondered.
Remus tightened his hold on Sirius. “You know who.”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
“Fine.” Remus stuck his chin up defiantly. “I’m in love with you. Happy?”
“Very,” Sirius responded, immediately crushing his lips into Remus’s.
Although Remus broke away when he felt a presence looming over them. Sirius looked dazed for a moment, before his eyes also landed on the Goddess hovering over them.
“Aphrodite,” Remus acknowledged wearily.
She simply grinned devilishly. “Finally.” And then, she grumbled, “And I suppose Athena was right about you. Daring, smart, worthy of her patronage. I thought you might let the beast kill you all. But no, Athena was right. Damn you, now I’ve lost a bet. Although I believe I’m winning the bet on Marlene and Dorcas…” With that, she disappeared.
Remus blinked, before bursting into laughter.
From above, on the deck of the boat, James and Peter looked down at them. “Should we haul them up yet?” Peter asked.
“First I have to check something,” James responded. He dramatically cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “HAVE YOU TWO SNOGGED YET?!”
Remus smirked. “Not yet.” And then he captured Sirius’s mouth in his own, and they snogged senselessly.
_________________
Back on the deck of the ship, Remus sighed and said, “Well, I suppose I should return to my writing.”
All three heads whipped around to face him incredulously.
“Excuse me?” Peter burst out, while the others seemed too speechless.
Remus frowned. “What?”
“You must keep adventuring!” James eventually cried.
“Remus.” Sirius stated gravely. “You don’t need to write stories anymore. You’re living the stories. With us.”
Microfic Compilation by MountainRuse
#wolfstar#remus x sirius#remus lupin#sirius black#alternate universe#fanfic#microfiction#short story#james potter#peter pettigrew#greek gods#ao3
23 notes
·
View notes
Note
The more I think about this chapter and read others takes the less negative I’ve become towards it. I’m just neutral now and if anything I quite like a lot of things in here, especially since the full TCB translations are out now. I’m still disgruntled about Yuuji like literally being thrown to the side though.
I never cared for Yuuta but he did need a last hoorah, so I hope it is a last hoorah that Yuuta fans find good.
It has been interesting seeing people’s takes on the story and what the theme of the story is meant to be. I actually kind of disagree with the takes that JJK is a nihilistic story, for how dark and gritty it can be it very much seems to be a story of hope and change than just a story where good people fail.
I have settled my emotions a bit too. Mostly just feel tired. My main issue is like you said that Yuuji is just getting thrown to the side when we finally get a tense moment between him and Sukuna. Gege really wants to stretch that fight. Yuuji was literally digging into his chest after just landing a Black Flash. Sukuna apparently felt so threatened that he healed his brain and CT, which is quite risky, to cast a domain. But then he can just shove Yuuji away and that's it? Also this Sukuna vs Gojo rehash is for one redundant and also very ill-timed. They could've done this when Sukuna was about to unleash Furnace or his altered domain. When people were actually in danger and Yuuta's sacrifice could've meant something. Yuuta gives a very passionate speech, but the whole time I just have to think that that's really not needed. If they need back-up, the people who got transported away could just come back. Maki's Soul Blade actually seems much more useful here, since we know hurting Sukuna's soul is how you actually get him down.
Also, Yuuta telling Maki that she doesn't understand what it means to be a monster and that she's scared leaves a really bad taste in my mouth. He didn't directly target her, but maybe have some self-awareness about who you're talking to? Not ooc though I would say, nor the rest of his speech and plan.
Another thing that I find confusing is why Yuuta can't heal himself, but is then able to grow Gojo's body together. If it's because of the stitches, Shoko could've stitched up his real body too. Could be that Kenjaku's technique gives a healing boost after the transfer, but they don't talk about that and I don't know how they would know that either. Nobody has ever seen Kenjaku change vessels.
But yeah, overall my reaction is just "do we need to do this again?". I don't agree with the criticisms I've seen that this is too dark, too bleak, too immoral, irredeemable and especially all those comparisons to horror and psychothriller stories. Seems to come also a lot from the people who think Choso's death was bad. Like using Gojo's body like that is grim, it shows how rotten jujutsu society is and that they perpetuate this mindset even in the students, but I think it just shows Yuuta breaking under pressure and emphasizing certain character flaws of his. A negative development. Not necessarily bad. If anything it shows why Yuuji can be the only one to defeat Sukuna because he doesn't give in to Sukuna's believes and he won't let the jujutsu system rob him of his value of life. Even if he sees himself as a tool, he does not treat others like that and he has always been someone who saw Gojo as a human first and the strongest sorcerer second. I wouldn't even say jjk is bleak right now. People have died and Yuuta threw his humanity away, but they are still gradually chipping away at Sukuna.
Certainly not nihilistic. There are very clear values governing the whole story as seen by the dichotomy of Sukuna and Yuuji. I do think they could've been put more into focus by using Shinjuku Showdown to highlight both of their mindsets and hone in more on Sukuna and Yuuji's mentality through it, but it's far from being nihilistic. Everything has meaning, Yuuta just now made the choice to compromise his previous morals. That doesn't mean the overall message is mute. Yuuta only played a small part in it to begin with after all. It's character development for him, but not a complete overthrow of the story's themes. He was told to become stronger he needs to throw away his humanity and disregard others. The challenge for him was to fight while still maintaining his humanity at the cost of not being The Strongest. He failed and also hasn't fully committed to that path, he's just perpetuating Gojo's dehumanization by saying there needs to be someone to fill that role. Someone who needs to stand at the top, despite even Gojo saying (or previously believing) that this burden shouldn't be carried by just one person. That's why he raised the students to be strong. Not quite the right approach either and not a break of the principles of jujutsu society, but certainly not what Yuuta took away from all this that there needs to be one pillar of strength far removed from the others who does the dirty work for them.
So like there is something there in the chapter, an attempt was made to say something, even though I don't think it quite stuck the landing. Doesn't make me especially ecstatic for the next chapters either though.
#don't know if this is entirely coherent but yeah agree that this doesn't make the story grimdark or nihilistic#asks#jjk spoilers#jjk 261
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm all for platonic relationships, but I just think romantic suits botw zelink the best. Let other zelinks be platonic, this one is about one hundred years of yearning and shared trauma and tension and forbidden love, and an actual positive version of the knight and princess trope.
#it's also about healing together and rebuilding the world together#it's about trust and loyalty to one another#botw zelink#zelink#botw#link#zelda#second possibly controversial statement of the day#tloz loz#If you think they'd leave each other's side after all that#I'm not quite sure what to say to you#because as someone with trauma#pretty sure experiences like theirs would just make you more clingy#he literally#died in her arms#if anything they'd have separation anxiety from each other. Not just. Up and leave#the idea of them getting with random no-name npcs is just odd to me#especially in zelda's case#feels ooc in a way I can't fully articulate#they are the only ones who could ever understand what the other has been through
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
He won't leave my fucking friends alone.
#tales from diana#sorry this is about that bad friend i have to break up w that ive posted abt on and off the past couple weeks/months maybe#i still have to send him that final 'i dont wanna speak to you ever again'#ive been fucking busy ok. my summer has been full of family events and obligations#i have one brother getting married and the other having a baby!!! i have a LIFE and SHIT TO DO and PPL TO BE THERE FOR other than YOU!!!#i havent spoken to him in over 2 months too and he knows it's bc i don't want to#he's so difficult bc you can't fucking tell him the truth. you can't!!! he can't handle it!!! do you know how hard it is to handle???#the things i have to do to cut him off. because he doesn't respect normal fucking boundaries. make ME feel like im in the wrong#like im the shady person and the liar.#i can't drift from him bc hell pull me back#i can't communicate w him bc he won't hear anything i have to say he'll just turn it around & make it abt himself.#he literally does not understand ppl having motivations to do things that don't relate to him#and he has no sympathy for what he does to other ppl. nothing but self-pity for how they don't like him anymore.#if he dealt w someone who put him through half of what he put ME through. no he couldn't actually.#i only allowed him to manipulate me for so long because i cared abt him. who i thought he was.#and he just point blank period doesn't care about other ppl. so he could never go through what ive gone through w him.#i feel like all this friend breakup has proven to me is that im actually a good person and it can be used against me by ppl who arent#some fucking lesson i needed to learn huh?#i hate feeling as negatively towards anyone as i do towards him. it's so hard for me not to have at least#a little spark of hope deep down for everyone. even ppl ive removed from my life before. i dont HATE them#theyve disappointed me or insulted me or mistreated me but at least their motivations seemed simple and clear#and MOST of them seemed to understand SOMEWHAT that they were in the wrong#even if they don't admit it to me or still find an excuse to hate me. whatever#i can see them as ppl who might feel remorse someday and grow from it#i do not see it in this guy. bc if you have a problem w him he'll only make it 20 times worse.#he's so selfish it genuinely baffles me to think about it. and he's one of the least honest ppl ive ever known.#he'll never see the error of his ways. i do not believe he has that capacity.#and will i say none of this to him? no#im just going to say thanks for leaving me alone these past couple months. it's been good for me.#i don't think i can continue our friendship anymore for my own sake.
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before Lionblaze could argue, another shape burst through the billowing smoke to stand beside Squirrelflight. His eyes glared; his gray fur was matted together and stuck with bits of burnt leaf and twig. Confused by the smoke and flames, Hollyleaf almost thought she was seeing one of her warrior ancestors, until she recognized Ashfur.
Squirrelflight dropped the branch. “Help me push it into the fire!” she yowled.
Grabbing the branch in strong jaws, Ashfur thrust it past the wall of flame and into the ever-narrowing patch of ground where Hollyleaf and her brothers huddled. But Hollyleaf didn’t feel any sense of relief. There was a look in Ashfur’s eyes that she didn’t understand: the look of a cat who had just spotted an unexpected juicy bit of prey.
The branch made a bridge through the flames, but Ashfur stood at the other end of it, blocking the way to safety. Lionblaze nudged Jayfeather to his paws; Hollyleaf took a step toward the branch, then paused. She felt a cold weight in herbelly when she looked into Ashfur’s glittering blue eyes.
“Ashfur, get out of the way.” Squirrelflight’s voice was puzzled. “Let them get out!”
“Brambleclaw isn’t here to look after them now,” Ashfur sneered.
Hollyleaf felt her fur beginning to rise. What did Ashfur mean?
Lionblaze’s golden pelt was bristling, too. “What have you done with my father?” he howled through the flame.
Ashfur looked at him pityingly; his eyes were twin points of fire amid the burning forest. “Why would I waste my time with Brambleclaw?”
The main branch was too solid to catch fire easily, but the leaves on it had shriveled and the twigs were beginning to smoke. Hollyleaf realized that they didn’t have much time before their bridge to safety would be ablaze.
Squirrelflight staggered up to Ashfur. Hollyleaf had never seen her mother so angry. Her fur bristled with fury; she looked like a warrior of TigerClan. Yet it was obvious that the climb to the top of the cliff, followed by her struggle with the branch, had weakened her, and she was exhausted.
“Your quarrel with Brambleclaw has to stop,” she hissed. “Too many moons have passed. You have to accept that I’m Brambleclaw’s mate, not yours. You can’t keep trying to punish Brambleclaw for something that was always meant to be.”
Ashfur’s ears flicked up in surprise. “I have no quarrel with Brambleclaw.”
Hollyleaf exchanged a shocked glance with Lionblaze. “That’s not how it looks to me,” he muttered.
“I couldn’t care less about Brambleclaw,” Ashfur continued. “It’s not his fault he fell for a faithless she-cat.”
Faithless? A growl began to build in Hollyleaf ’s throat, but then she stopped and watched the cats on the other side of the blazing branches. Something ominous was taking place in front of her, and even with flame roaring around them she felt a sudden chill. She shrank closer to Lionblaze and Jayfeather, whose head was up, his sightless eyes intent, as if he could see the confrontation between his mother and Ashfur.
“I know you think I’ve never forgiven Brambleclaw for stealing you from me, but you’re wrong, and so is every cat that thinks so. My quarrel is with you, Squirrelflight.” Ashfur’s voice shook with rage. “It always has been.”
Horrified, Hollyleaf took a step back and felt her hind paws begin to slip on the edge of the cliff. Her head spun as lightning stabbed out and thunder drowned all other sounds, even the roaring fire. For a heartbeat she dangled over empty air, and she let out a strangled yowl.
Then she felt firm teeth meet in her scruff; blinking against the smoke, she realized that Lionblaze was hauling her back to safety. But there was no safety: only the hungry flames, and Ashfur blocking the end of the branch with fury in his eyes. Fiery sparks floated down on all three young cats, scorching their fur, and flames licked the underside of the branch; fear flooded afresh through Hollyleaf when she saw that it was already beginning to smolder.
Ashfur has to let us get out! But Hollyleaf couldn’t find any words to plead with him. What was happening here didn’t have anything to do with them, even if they died because of it.
“All this was moons ago.” Squirrelflight sounded puzzled. “Ashfur, I had no idea you were still upset.”
“Upset?” Ashfur echoed. “I’m not upset. You have no idea how much pain I’m in. It’s like being cut open every day, bleeding onto the stones. I can’t understand how any of you failed to see the blood. . . .”
His eyes clouded and his voice took on a wild, distant tone, as if he could see the blood spilling out of him now, sizzling on the burning ground. Terror burst through Hollyleaf and she pressed closer to her brothers. This cat was more dangerous than the storm or the fire, or the fall lurking perilously close to her hind paws.
Desperately she tried to step onto the end of the branch. At once Ashfur rounded on her, fully conscious again, his teeth bared in a snarl.
“Stay there!” Turning to face Squirrelflight but keeping one paw on the branch, he hissed, “I can’t believe you didn’t know how much you hurt me. You are the blind one, not Jayfeather. Who do you think sent Firestar the message to go down to the lake, where the fox trap was? I wanted him to die, to take your father away so you’d know the real meaning of pain.”
Hollyleaf ’s shocked gaze met Lionblaze’s. “He tried to kill Firestar?” she gasped. “He’s mad!”
Determination glittered in Lionblaze’s eyes, and he bunched his muscles for a giant leap. “I’m going to fight him.”
“No!” Hollyleaf fastened her teeth in his shoulder fur. “You can’t!” Her words were muffled now. “He’ll just push you into the fire.”
“Brambleclaw saved Firestar then,” Ashfur went on to Squirrelflight. “But he’s not here now. He’s not here—but your kits are.”
Squirrelflight’s eyes blazed. For a heartbeat Hollyleaf thought she was going to pounce on the gray warrior, but she knew that exhausted and in pain, her mother would have no chance. Squirrelflight seemed to realize it, too. She drew herself up, head high; she was trembling, but her voice was clear and brave.
“Enough, Ashfur. Your quarrel is with me. These young cats have done nothing to hurt you. Do what you like with me, but let them out of the fire.”
“You don’t understand.” Ashfur looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time; his voice was puzzled and petulant. “This is the only way to make you feel the same pain that you caused me. You tore my heart out when you chose Brambleclaw over me. Anything I did to you would never hurt as much. But your kits . . .” He looked through the flames at Hollyleaf and her brothers, his eyes narrowing to dark blue slits. “If you watch them die, then you’ll know the pain I felt.”
The flames crackled threateningly closer; Hollyleaf felt as if the heat was about to sear her pelt into ashes. She edged backward, only to feel the edge of the hollow give way under her hind paws. The three of them were pressed tightly together, so close that if one of them lost their balance, all three would be dragged off the cliff. Hollyleaf couldn’t control the trembling that shook her whole body as her glance flickered between the cliff and the fire.
Jayfeather was crouched close to the ground, looking tinier than ever with his pelt slicked flat by the rain. Lionblaze’s claws were unsheathed, glinting as the lightning flashed out again, but the tension in his haunches didn’t come from preparing to leap at Ashfur; it came from the effort of keeping himself on the top of the cliff.
Squirrelflight raised her head, her gaze locked on Ashfur’s crazed eyes. “Kill them, then,” she meowed. “You won’t hurt me that way.”
Ashfur opened his jaws to reply, but said nothing. Hollyleaf and her brothers stared at their mother. What was Squirrelflight saying?
Squirrelflight took a step away from them, and glanced carelessly over her shoulder. Her green eyes were fiercer than Hollyleaf had ever seen them, with an expression she couldn’t read.
“If you really want to hurt me, you’ll have to find a better way than that,” Squirrelflight snarled. “They are not my kits.”
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
i want to hold my tongue and not share the depth of my opinions about the two-headed cow but it upsets me so much every time i see it, i really do hate the narrative of 'rooting for' an animal like this to live despite it being unable (and will be unable, for its entire life) to do the most basic of things life has to offer, even breathing, eating, moving, to prioritize the savior myth that everything can and should be saved, that every living creature should be treated this way as though its not one of the greatest mercies that we as humans have the ability to enact a quick and painless alternative to a slow and miserable life that ends in slow and miserable death on our livestock when they can't advocate for themselves, the ability we have as humans to see the research and make a prognosis and decide that the spectacle is not worth the extended misery, but this life is worth the dignity of a peaceful death we have the capacity to grant
because there is a difference between helping a baby animal in the first legs of life knowing it has a chance to have a quality of life worth fighting for, not a life doomed to be painful that we KNOW is painful knowing all that we know about animals who come with this specific type of physical abnormality, what we see on the surface is only a fraction of much more malformation and deterioration on the inside that we can't just decide is not happening because they 'look' fine, and what we see on the surface is already a life from start to finish without any experience an animal like this should have by virtue of being alive, with no life at all and no understanding of why it is going through this
the assumption that there is no suffering despite eating, breathing, moving never something that this baby will be able to do unassisted, despite knowing the longest a two-headed cow has ever survived was not even a year and a half and that record hasn't been broken in over thirty years, that's not even a quarter, an 8th, a 12th, a 15th of a cow's normal lifespan, and doubtfully much of that was pleasant or comfortable, and even if this cow does get to the point of being able to stand on its own, we can't ever know the full range of agony this animal is going through, all we know is there is and there will be agony, and we need to not see life as inherently successful or painless just because something is going in one end and coming out the other, that isn't what defines an animal's quality of life to me
the two-headed calf poem is beautiful to me because it's a miracle that something so rare (luckily) and so doomed could see one extraordinary thing before passing. the sky ceases to be beautiful when forced to live every day for the sake of social media's voyeurism, it makes me so sad that someone who raises livestock would put public attention over their duty to their animals ☹️
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
It's me. I'm the cis, heterosexual, aromantic man. I will never marry, I will never be married, I will grow into middle age and elder age and I will die unmarried. I will be forced to support a household of myself on only my wages alone for the rest of my life. I will be asked about women and marriage and children by my family for the rest of my life (or men, the progressive ones might say). I may not ever come out to them. I feel like I burned my coming out on something stupid. I don't want to explain it. I don't want to run them through the definitions and intricacies. I don't want the acceptance without understanding, placating me with ceased questions and poor explanations to other, drunk adults.
I like my hair to be long, I spent a year with it dyed a golden blonde with dark roots because I like the trashy party girl aesthetic. I want to dye it again with pink tips. I like painting my nails, black and blue are my favorite colors. I like wearing chokers. I also like wearing baggy jeans and ratty hoodies. I like having stubble. I like having chest hair. I like having a square jaw and broad shoulders. I wish I had a flatter stomach and a thinner profile frame. I don't know what this makes me, perhaps this is something no more GNC than Machine Gun Kelly. I think about this a lot, how queer my appearance truly is. I should think about it less. I have thought long and hard about if I could be trans or if I could be non-binary or if I could be genderqueer and the conclusion I ultimately came to is that I most enjoy being a man open to whatever self-expression I want.
I don't date, but I've thought about it. I would like to meet people, and I would like to have sex with them. But I don't want to hurt them. I fear if I explain what I am beforehand it'll scare them away. I fear if I explain after they'll feel manipulated or abused. I don't know how many people in the dating scene want what I want. I fear my own lack of experience will make me a bad lay, an embarrassing story to tell to confidants in hindsight. I fear my own virginity, a boundary to those I wish to be like. All of these fears are baseless, as I've not been able to even begin a single relationship in my life. Despite this I still heavily identify with terms like "slut" and "manwhore" and "thot" because my interests lay so deeply within casual sex, sex without great intimacy or emotion. This may be some form of stolen valor. I hope the true sluts are not too mad at me.
I made this blog several years ago because a mutual of mine reblogged memes making fun of aro and ace people, making fun of the concept of aphobia, and in addition well known aphobes. I didn't feel comfortable talking about aro stuff on my main blog, for as little as I talk about it. Living through the ace discourse of the 2016 era has largely caused me to cringe in embarrassment any time I am forced to discuss my orientation with people who aren't aro or ace themselves. I no longer follow this person. I unfollowed many people I was mutuals with from that time, most of them because they posted too often about how much they hated men and I didn't want to see that, some because our interests simply drifted too far apart, only one for explicit aphobia reasons. (Also one because they became a "both sides are bad, any vote is wasted" libertarian, but that's unrelated.)
I guess at this point I don't care deeply about what strangers on the internet think of me. If a trusted friend told me that they don't think I'm truly queer that may hurt. But I am going to continue to use the word for myself. I take up no resources. I go to events that are open to me. If an event was not open to me, I think I'd not want to go anyways. I am not a hypothetical, I am not a strawman, I am a person with lived experiences both within and exterior to the queer community. If you hate me, I will permit you to continue to do so. But ultimately, I am who I am, I cannot change these facts, and I would not choose to do so even if I could.
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!
thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.
he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.
he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.
but he couldn’t take everything lying down.
did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?
he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.
he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.
he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.
but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.
but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.
simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.
and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?
you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.
the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.
and all the signs pointed to you.
and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.
price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.
johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.
then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.
simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.
maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.
but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.
all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.
and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.
so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.
and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.
even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.
he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.
but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.
the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.
it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.
the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.
“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.
“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”
simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.
“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”
“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”
price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”
“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.
price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”
the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.
he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.
“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.
price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”
simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.
“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”
they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.
pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.
although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.
but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.
an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.
you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.
damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.
you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.
he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.
‘you should have killed me.’
maybe he should have.
thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—
im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!
as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)
#cod mw2 fic#captain john price#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#ghost call of duty#captain price#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#johnny mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#John price#simon riley x gn reader#simon riley angst#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost cod#141!reader#141 x reader#task force 141
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
DCxDP fanfic idea: Corporate Rivals
Bruce is really excited to hire a boy genius from a small time town. He found him by accident while scrolling through some creative writing competition past winners on various school sites. He originally wanted ideas for his own contest for the annual Wayne Young Writers Scholarship when he stumbled up Amity Parks Youth Authors.
Daniel Fenton's science fiction had won second place, and Bruce thinks he only lost due to the judges not realizing all the science of the gadgets his charaters used were real. Real, well explain and proper research. Daniel obviously knew his stuff and knew it well.
He had reached out to Daniel with a science scholarship opportunity, wanting to see what he would come up with. He gave him a basic assignment asking him to fulfill a prompt "Software or Hardware development for disabled" in either theory or model. If he created something worthwhile, Bruce would send him ten grand.
Daniel did not disappoint, not only doing the theory paper but also sending back a prototype of a pocket ASL translator. It would be an app on a phone that would have an AI watching through a camera of the person doing sign language and say out loud what the person was saying. It had a few bugs here and there, but for a high schooler, those were very impressive accomplishments.
Bruce found himself sponsoring the boy for early high school graduation. The young Fenton boy was a genius just like his parents, but he lacked proper motivation. Bruce suspected it was due to his school not challenging him enough much like Tim.
When Daniel got his diploma Bruce offered a few rid to Gotham University with the condition he would be a employee at WE. Daniel agreed under the condition it was as a proper employee and not a unpaid intern. A little daring for a kid getting already a amazing deal but Bruce liked his moxy and agreed.
Daniel Fenton was to be a worker in the RD department for WE tech in one week.
He couldn't wait to introduce him to Tim. Two young geniuses would get along swimmingly with their shared brain prowess!
______________________________________
Tim hated the new guy.
They were the same age, but everyone acted like he was amazing for finishing high school and starting university while also being a top WE reseacher and Devloper at such a young age.
Oh Tim was CEO, but as many people have whispered, he didn't graduated Highschool or have a GED so the only reason he got to be CEO was because of nepotism. Danny on the other hand got his position through hard work.
Which was ironic, seeing as the company has never done so well since Tim came on board. Their sales, PR, and production numbers all tripled because of him. Danny, on the other hand, was a sloth with little to no ambition. He didn't even work well with others! He mostly did solo projects and everyone seemed fine with that since genius "need their own space"
Tim has been networking since he was three years old, and failure to do so had always reflected badly on him and his company. He spent his entire life careful choosing his words and his actions. Even his appearance, what he wore, his hairstyle even the hand gesture when he talked, were planned before hand.
Then comes Fenton, who avoids crowds, dressed in the worst formal wear Tim has ever seen . Black jeans were not formal!- and acted like this important office was just a after school hang out spot. Now Tim was much more laid back than his board co-workers, who were all in their fifties or older, and even more relax then the mangers or superiors of lower stations but even he could not understand Fenton blaring music, bags of chips lingering everywhere and his ordination skills were none existing!
Not to mention the fact Daniel didn't believe in using computers unless he had to. His office was covered in towers of paper that he scribbled and work on! It was such a waste!
And yet, despite all of that, Daniel was rapidly becoming an asset to WE. His ASL translator app wasn't finished, but it had everyone buzzing with excitement and would be well received when it was released with Wayne Phones as a built in app.
Tim tried to avoid him as best he could least he get offended by his lack of work proper behavior
Daniel Fenton did not understand what it meant to put your all into something that you lost yourself along the way. Best to ignore him.
________________________________________
Danny couldn't stand his company CEO. Timothy Drake reminded him a little too much of the A-listers but without the bulling bit. Somehow, that made it worse.
Timothy was popular because he was well liked. He didn't need to relay on his good looks or aggression to make other yeild to him like Paulina or Dash. Even if he was ridiculously good looking to the point, Danny confused him for a siren when he met him.
He had the ability to walk into any room and take command if it. Timothy didn't even need to speak, his very presence commanded attention and awe. Not to mention how great he was at his job.
WE had always been a popular corporation but under Timothy's command they rose to one of the most important corporations in the world. Bruce Wayne was raised to run a company, Timothy Drake was born to run it. There was a large enough difference between the two that anyone could see Timothy was superior at running things.
Danny was nothing like that. He couldn't talk to people, couldn't make them like him, and often he was overlooked for his sister or his wacky but loveable parents.
He was the other Febton. The one that was there and nothing else. A few months ago he was even considered the dumb Fenton, who somehow was skipped over for intelligence.
Then he wrote a little story and everything changed.
Danny turned out to be a proper Fenton, after all, having gotten the attention of Bruce Wayne for his mind. His parents haven't been so proud of him in a long time, and he found himself accepting the job position after graduating high school early before he knew it.
Along with the job came a move to Gotham city. He went after debating it a great deal with his family and friends, but the deal was too sweet to turn down. Now he was in Gothem and he knew absolutely no one.
Danny didn't know how to make new friends here. Tucker and Sam had been the ones to approach him at the beginning of their friendships. He also was scared of getting close to his co-worker less they suspect his Phantom powers.
He knew that Metas was not welcome, and he thought Batman wouldn't care that he was technically dead and not with a meta gene.
So he focused on his work, avoiding large crowds and keeping his head down. He would turn on music to help pass the loneliness and would gater papers to write down his thoughts less they made him mad by running around his head all day.
This anxious insecurity was something Timothy Drake would never understand. He just shone like a fallen star, dazzling the masses with his neat press suits, easy charisma, and intelligent bedroom eyes. Best to ignore him.
________________________________________
Dick never really ventured to WE now that he moved out. He made a habit of trying to visit Tim every two weeks for lunch to fix this. He also really wanted to spend more one on one time with his little brother now that they reconsidled from Bruce's timeline fiasco.
He was still well known by the employees, even new ones, so when Dick arrived to the lobby he was waved in by security. The receptionists were all huddled together muttering to eachother and missed his entrance since security didn't call out to him.
Dick could tell the gossip they were talking about was juicy based on the way Lola was wiggling her eyebrows and Stacy and Isaiah's reaction.
He creeps closer to the front desk, hoping to hear something good.
"Isn't that against the rules?" Isaiah asks.
"WE doesn't have anything like that. Not since Thomas Wayne married his old PA and had Bruce. I think it's cute that Mr.Drake is following in his adoptive Grandfather's footsteps."
Dick paused, shocked. Tim liked someone at WE!?
"They aren't even dating yet, Lola"
"Yeah but you can cut the sexual tension with a- Mr. Grayson! I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. How can I help you?"
Dick blinks. "Oh I'm here to see Tim for lunch. But what was that about Tim you were saying?"
The woman pales as the other two quickly become busy with some email or another.
"Oh, um, I'm so sorry, sir. I shouldn't have -"
"It's fine I don't mind a little chat between co-workers. I'm just curious"
Lola stares before nervously blurting "Rumor has it that um, Mr.Drake has a thing for Daniel Fenton"
"The new boy genius?" Dick thinks about it considering what he knows of Tim's type and his past preferences in partners before nodding "That tracks actually"
He says his thanks and hurries away to Tim's office unaware he may have confirmed a relationship between Tim and Danny.
The gossip circles in WE exploded with the news everyone careful not to let the two subjects hear a whisper.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#Corporate Rivals#Dead Tired#Danny and Tim are jealous of the other#but also kind think the other is hot#Bruce just wanted a play date for his smart boy#Dick is a gossip past it on#Part 1
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
alunasky-blog
Alunasky
shawandroid-blog
Power Game
poopsstains
❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆
yoonglmln
살아남아야 한다
masashinonaka
Masashi Nonaka