#-- be funny without making One Person look Better Than Everyone Else; but I do suspect the Soothing Theory covers that theory nicely too.

[sepublic]

Say what you will about Hunter fans’ white favoritism and double standards, but at least they seem to like the show. Wittebane fans are on a whole different level of white favoritism and fandom misogyny compared to them, because they’re genuinely obsessed with the idea of an all-white cast, centered around two guys, in their racist colony; Eda’s there too, but without any of the depth, she’s only there to be a Girlboss, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl to the cardboard cutout. And it’s to the point where for many of them, it’s all they’ll talk about, instead of the actual source material, its colorful cast and worldbuilding, or onscreen stories.

I know misogyny and racism is in this fandom because people find it easier and more fun to make shit up for a cardboard cutout who makes about as much noise as one over like, Willow Park. It’s fun to speculate on parallels, but when canon contrasts Camila’s heartbreak over creating a hostile environment for her child, versus Philip’s racist hatred and murder of Caleb for having a mixed child? It’s obvious that people would rather rewrite Belos until he’s OOC and the exact opposite of everything he stands for, so they don’t have to talk about Camila Noceda. Because the only way they can truly enjoy this moment is under the veneer of that white guy and him alone.

Like jeez if you want two family members trying to survive after moving to Gravesfield, one repressing themselves and afraid they’re pushing away the other who can’t do that? If you want two siblings with a tragic fallout, where one of them stays with the status quo while missing the other, despite hurting them so badly? Or a child who cares so deeply, but that isn’t enough and that love can be cruel? Just enjoy the Nocedas, the Clawthorne sisters, the Collector.

Cavelyn? That's just Raeda, which even has a tragic element and is actually fleshed out. Raine has an actual personality unlike Blandest White Boy Caleb, and I've already compared Eda to Evelyn. If you want it tragic, there’s Bad End AUs, and I’ve seen Wittebane fans make plenty of Good End AUs so obviously there’s a double standard there. If you want an old hag to thirst over, oh hey look it’s Eda! If you want someone conventionally attractive, what about Darius?

Anything you want those white boys to be, some other characters with way more focus and screen time do it, and much better. The only thing Belos does better than everyone else is represent colonialism, racism, genocide, and evangelical delusions… But y’all don’t want to talk about that now do you? Maybe instead of making OTGW crossovers just talk about OTGW, y’all have plenty of media centered on white guys so why do you need to change TOH to be like that? It’s not suspect that y’all find Wittebanes compelling, it’s suspect that you find them more compelling over characters who actually display these traits as their focus.

Praising Belos’ character for traits that others actually display is just like Philip taking credit for others’ work, it’s funny how Belos fans say you can enjoy him critically but they don’t actually do that. They just go with this very basic Genocide Bad take but still subscribe to the same core sentiment as him; That colonial white guys are just naturally better and more interesting, and they deserve to take the spotlight away from women and/or PoC.

Belos talks hot shit about how Caleb betrayed him and while some don’t believe that’s the case, they still roll with the claim that the heartbroken feeling of being betrayed is primarily why Belos did all this, when really he did it because he was selfish and wanted to be a monster slaying hero, and his games prior to Evelyn’s arrival support this.

He was gonna do it with or without Caleb’s support, there’s just no winning for Caleb because either he would’ve continued being a witch hunter and it’s his fault for setting that example, or he abandoned poor Philip and Philip had no choice but to feel that way… As if racism isn’t the reason why he insists he can’t follow where Caleb is going, ergo Caleb is leaving him. Poor guy is simultaneously overrated and demonized by the same people for being a child who can’t override his racist brother’s free will.

I think it boils down to this: Despite already having Hunter, it’s not enough because Hunter’s relationships are all PoC or at least a white girl. But those Wittebanes, they’re white guys whose most important dynamic is another white guy, each other! And they’re adults so you can sexualize and ship yourself with them. And don’t even get me started on the Grimwalker OCs, the literally copy-pasted white guys!

[lakesbian]

alright this one is getting its own post instead of a reblog on a post that is Entirely Not About That. presenting the 'what if we put amy and alec in a room together' manifesto because the thing is that it is interesting but not in the way amy/alec shippers think

Amy shook her head, talking over her, “She’s always been emotional, passionate, unrestrained, and she’s channeling all this new emotion into hate, because it’s the closest equivalent.” “New emotion?” Regent asked.  “You mean you mindraped her.” Amy looked like she’d been slapped across the face.  I wasn’t surprised, but hearing it said out loud was unsettling.

“Nice,” Regent said.  “She could be a human-spider hybrid.  Add some insult to injury with the mindrape thing.” I could see Amy tense.

it is relevant to his character that he's the first person to cut through amy's euphemisms (and everyone else's avoidance of saying the unsettling part out loud) and outright say "you mindraped her." he calls the euphemistic language out and then intentionally repeats it a second time for no other reason than to bug her about it. it's vaguely reminiscent of something he says to sophia during his interlude:

“You and I are more alike than you’d suspect, I think,” he said. “We’re both arrogant assholes, yeah?  Difference is, I admit it, I don’t dress it up and tell myself that I’m a bitch and that that’s a good thing.”  He burned Emma’s face out of another photo.

he has a repeated habit of making people uncomfortable by calling something out for exactly what it is, whether it be "yeah sure cape groupies, my dad's girls, people i used my power on towards the end" or "you mean you mindraped her." he's desensitized enough to really all forms of violence to be unbothered by committing or witnessing them, but he seems to harbor a genuine pet peeve for people who obscure or unreasonably justify what they're actually doing. as uncomfortable as he can make taylor, it's often not that he's doing things worse than the other undersiders, but that he's the person most willing to openly admit what he's doing--or to pettily call out what someone else is doing.

i think it more or less boils down to the fact that he's never gotten to be the person on the peripherals of violence making up neat and tidy ways to talk about it: he spent his entire childhood being hurt in every way imaginable & being coerced into doing the same to others. i think it left him with a sort of genuine distaste for being expected to talk in circles around the viscerally awful things he had done to him or did to others, and subsequently, for people who have done similar things but can't fucking fess up to the reality of it. it's like he's been walking around his entire life just absolutely drenched in blood, witnessing so much else get covered in it, and he's starting to get legitimately bothered over people standing around twiddling their thumbs and pretending it's red paint. he knows it's blood. he's been tasting it since he was 6. he would really like if everyone else could also grow up and admit it's fucking blood.

it's always funny to me that amy/alec shipping is, like, a Thing--a niche thing, but a Thing, because i could not think of a rapist more hand-crafted to piss amy dallon off than alec vasil. he cannot go Three seconds in her presence without going "oh you raped her? you mean you raped her? with your mind? like she doesn't just have new feelings you specifically mean you mindraped her?"

she, on some level, views herself as someone who did harm because she's irrevocably, ontologically evil, and is sort of desperately obsessed with minimalizing or half-justifying her actions to herself so that she can avoid recognizing that she feels like she can't be better. she's clinging to the idea that she can be "redeemed" if she does something of equal measure in the opposite direction (e.g 'spending the rest of her life healing people' as she mentions), but because she can't even directly acknowledge how bad her actions actually were without crumbling under the weight of the idea that she's doomed to be that bad, she's fundamentally incapable of looking directly at what she did at this point in the story.

alec, on the other hand, is really fucking upfront and fairly objective about his actions--he never ties them into some Inarguable Truth About His Soul, and he's pretty honest about whether or not he thinks they're justifiable. in 14.1, he has this dialogue with cherie:

“When daddy had you practicing your powers, you ‘hijacked’ a few people at a time, used their bodies to get high with no consequences for you, you threw orgies for yourself…” “Again.  I was a kid.”

but despite the fact that sophia is, on some level, justified in his mind by his "eye for an eye, this is a favor for taylor" rhetoric--he's fine with admitting that he's also just doing it because, yeah, he's an arrogant asshole and he feels like it. some of it was because he was a kid being groomed, and some of it was because He Felt Like It.*

*sure, he only Felt Like It because he has a comically large cocktail of unpacked psychological issues--but he doesn't know that, he just knows he felt like it.

in other words, he doesn't subscribe to the idea that any of his actions are, like, Ontologically Predetermined By His Inner Being or even necessarily all related. he's like the fuckin' "might do it again, prolly not" dude from the sex offender shuffle. okay, sorry for saying that in my seriouspost. but his philosophies would clash hilariously badly with amy--he insists on accepting his own & others actions for exactly what they are, he's generally very invested in not being his father (being asked if he intends to turn out like his dad is one of the only times something briefly upsets him), and he's actually doing pretty okay at that. he's like...shockingly well-adjusted given the circumstances. his entire arc is more or less a slow upward climb.

i think having to be around someone who both believes and would outright admit "yeah i raped people, no i dunno if i feel that bad, no i'm not raking myself over the coals for it, yeah some of it was because i was a kid, yeah some of the other stuff wasn't, no i'm not Predestined To Suck," would like. clash with her beliefs abt 'ontologically evil' being a real thing, abt punishment as justice, etc. in a way that would really bother her. she spends a lot of her time in her head trying to twist things around until they feel salvageable to her, but alec is 0 amount concerned with rationalizing to make him feel alright--he just does things, some bad, most shitty attempts to be better.

it's, funnily enough, far more functional for improving than what amy has going on--he operates on material actions as opposed to her Self-Flagellating Thought Labyrinths, and the fact that he's busier moving on from things he can't materially change than he is kicking himself in the face means he can actually achieve some form of progress towards more functional approaches wrt human interaction. i think if amy had an extended conversation w/ him about the subject, she'd both be disgusted with him for not thinking thoughtcrime is real and deeply resentful that this fellow ontologically evil villain is doing better at moving forwards as a person than her despite not 24/7 flagellating himself + yearning for "redemption" like she is. it'd throw a disturbingly large wrench in her worldview, and she would not be happy about it.

oh, and alec would think she's weird and mopey and dumb and annoying and "why do it if you can't even admit it." and he would probably tell her as much. which is the point where i unlock the door to the room so alec can sprint out to escape amy's attempt to put tastebuds on his asshole.

[moderncryptid]

Furry Little Bastard Chapter 1

  It really was shitty, Damien had long ago decided, that your world could come to an end and everyone else’s could just keep moving on.

A metaphorical meteor could turn your life into a smoking crater and people will just step over and around you, maybe sparing the occasional glance at whatever’s left with a mixture of pity and vague disgust. The kind of look that makes you wish you still had it in you to tell them to mind their business so you can smolder undisturbed.

That was how it felt in the beginning. No ability, no direction, nowhere to go and nobody to talk to. The last three conditions weren’t unfamiliar. But leaning how to navigate without his ability felt like trying to maneuver around in the dark. Like losing one of his senses.

It was like being in a hotel room when the air conditioning or heat suddenly shut off. That was the only thing he could compare it to at first. That sudden extra layer of quiet. He might have gone all night without noticing the sound and its sudden absence was disorienting.

Now the “sound” of other people’s minds was gone. A hum that was more sensation than noise; like the low buzzing of feedback from a speaker at a concert he could feel at the base of his skull. People’s minds, their wants, the lose threads he used to be able to pull at without even the conscious desire to do so. Gone like turning off a light switch.

For the first few weeks after the AM, he swore there was something wrong with his ears. Noises seemed so much louder, and silences felt so heavy. It took him a while to put together what he was missing. He was so used to the company of other people’s minds inside his own that being without them….

“It feels lonely.” Was what he told Mark. And he hadn’t yet come up with a better way of putting it, as much as he’d like to. 

It was, to put it lightly and with the least amount of profanity possible, incredibly shitty. He used to believe he was cursed, or born with bad luck, or maybe the universe just hated him personally. These days he was beginning to suspect that maybe it didn’t hate him at all. It just found watching him struggle really, really funny and didn’t want to stop laughing any time soon. 

He tried making a life for himself in this new normal. Really, he did. Not that anyone would believe that, or would think too much of what he had to show for it.

He worked sporadically here and there, mostly at restaurants and other places that didn’t check backgrounds too closely or care very much about experience. He got kicked out of one apartment, and then another before one finally stuck. He learned how to take a bus and learned how much he hated taking the bus. And along the way, he developed a deep-seated hatred for thin walls and people who had the energy to start loud arguments with their roommates or partners after midnight. 

It was actually his neighbors fighting that drove him out of the apartment at around 11pm one night. He'd given up on trying to sleep until they quieted down and stepped outside just to get away from the noise that was starting to give him a headache. 

It was still early September. So, theoretically it shouldn't have been too cold. September was all pretty trees and warm afternoons according to books and tv. In reality, he was freezing his ass off the moment he stepped out in his oversized sweatpants and hoodie; his shoes half shoved on in his haste to get out. It was also raining. Not a pretty little misting of water, but the kind of torrential downpour only shown in apocalyptic movies. He briefly hoped it would wash the whole damn city away, then broke off those pleasant thoughts to mutter a string of curses when he stepped in a puddle and soaked through one of his socks. 

I used to like cities.

The thought came with a wave of melancholy nostalgia. The only kind he seemed to be capable of. Back when he had his ability, cities were easy. It was easy to get lost in the crowd, easy to slip by unnoticed, easy to disappear. Now they just felt entirely too big and weirdly empty in spite of all the people. And disappearing in the mix was somehow even more lonely. 

Mark mentioned wanting to live in a big city once. Like New York or L.A. He said he liked the idea of having something to do all the time; new people to talk to, shops popping in and out, a constant rotation of artists and musicians. Damien had no idea if this city had any of those things. Hadn’t had the time or energy to seek them out. Crowds made him nervous long before he lost his ability and that certainly hadn't improved how he felt about them. As far as he’d seen, this place was just a lot of cars and faceless buisnesses.

You’d probably hate it here. He thought. Another entry in an endless, one-sided conversation that was the one constant in his life. An extension of all those embarrassing, shitty letters crammed into his backpack that he could never actually bring himself to throw away. 

Damien sighed and leaned his head back against the cold, wet brick. He’d just closed his eyes and was starting to let his mind drift to all the places he’d be better off not drifting to when he heard a noise that sounded like a long, low wail.

His eyes snapped open and he looked around the alley. He couldn’t see anyone but himself, and there was nothing else out here but the dumpsters along the far wall overflowing with plastic bags. The streetlights to his left and the greenish bulb glowing on the outside of whatever building he was living next to cast a sickly, dim glow over the narrow space. It was eerie on a good day. And as he was just beginning to consider maybe sitting through another argument from his neighbors was better than whatever was out here, he heard it again. Another heartrending wail coming from the bank of dumpsters.

It didn’t sound much like a person. Person-adjacent maybe. It was hard to tell with all the cars rushing by on the street and that damn buzzing light. 

Am I about to be the person who dies in the first five minutes of a horror movie?

Well, at least then he wouldn’t have to go into work tomorrow. Never let anyone say he didn’t know how to look on the bright side.

He wondered if this was one of those situations where he was supposed to pretend not to hear anything. Investigating certainly didn’t sound like a good idea. But the thought of turning his back to go inside right now didn’t really appeal to him either. 

“If anyone’s planning on stabbing me tonight can we please get this over with?” he groaned with what he hoped was enough exhaustion behind his words to convince any curious lurkers to move on. Maybe if he could convey how shitty his life was in a single sentence he could make any potential murderers see that they would be wasting their time on him. 

Still. He waited with his breath catching in the back of his throat until several tense seconds had passed.

You’re a paranoid idiot. He told himself. Then nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt something cold and wet brush against his leg. 

Damien had never gotten his door open so quickly and he’d closed it again before giving himself time to figure out just what had touched him. 

What the hell kind of murderer grabs someone’s ankles?

He decided that weirder things had happened and slid the little metal lock into place. Not that it looked like it would do much against someone who really wanted to get in. Damien was pretty sure a determined rat could break the whole door down with enough momentum.

“Well that was fucking weird,” he said aloud to himself. Wishing, not for the first and probably not the last time, that he didn’t live alone. His heart was still pounding and he was sure the whole situation would have been more funny than creepy if he had someone to commiserate with. Someone to make fun of him for being scared by literally nothing so he could stop thinking about how useless the lock was.

A little comfort would be nice too. Maybe just a brief squeeze of a shoulder or someone asking sincerely if he was okay. He’d brush it off and say he was fine, yeah, but it was about the asking more than the answer. 

Instead, he had himself. And that eternally critical voice in the back of his head that loved to remind him how bad he was at being a person, telling him that it was really embarrassing to start whining about being lonely because he got a little spooked. 

He ran his fingers back through his damp hair and sat down on the floor; the universal sign of giving up that he was very familiar with. Too tired to drag himself to bed, he drew up his knees and dropped his face onto them, letting out a sigh he was sure would be heard through the paper-thin walls. 

Hey Mark. Your city idea blows. In case you were wondering. And I wish you were here so I could tell you that to your stupid face.

He did his best to think about it angrily. And to not dwell on the fact that he could just hear him laughing at the whole situation. Making light of it all. Responding with a teasing, “Aww. Poor baby.” that would make him want to gag. Because if he thought about that for too long it would start to make his ribs ache and the apartment would seem more empty than it already was.

Damien let out another sigh, one that shook far more than the one before it. Which, he told himself, was only a result of the cold. He was just starting to repeat it to himself, (Because he was not going to cry on the floor for the second time in a week.) when something butted against his arm.

Damien jerked back from it so hard that he would have fallen on his ass if he wasn’t already sitting on the floor. His heart lodged itself somewhere in the back of his mouth, and though he’d somehow managed to avoid actually letting out any noise, he came pretty close when he saw a pair of eyes staring at him from the hallway. Until he realized they were too small and close to the ground to be human. And probably too big for a rat.

Did I let a fucking possum inside? 

That was something he’d actually done once back in Nebraska. Possums were decently amiable; or were at least willing to act like it in exchange for food. He’d never been good at making friends his own age even before his ability made that pretty much impossible, but he’d found animals to be pretty judgment-free as a rule. There wasn’t anything non-human he didn’t at least try to approach in his younger years even when his parents tried to discourage the habit. Once they were gone and he stopped going to school, there really was nobody there to stop him from making nice with the local vermin around his house. 

The possum was part of the collection of squirrels and birds he’d share his leftovers or failed baking projects with. His mom would be horrified, but he had a pretty decent crowd going that would wait out on the porch for his evening offerings. Damien actually got it to the point where the possum in question would take food right out of his hands. A point of personal pride.

One afternoon he left the side door open. And it just came waddling into the kitchen like it owned the place. Damien remembered walking around the corner, locking eyes with it, then panicking after a moment’s mutual confusion. 

His brilliant solution had been to try and pick it up so he could set it back outside. He was a very lonely, stupid kid who was thinking in terms of pets, not wild animals. And in exchange for his moment of stupidity, he ended up getting bitten.

Luckily it was nothing serious. It hardly broke the skin but the shock and sight of blood made him call for his mom. 

It was just habit. A reflex like pulling your fingers back from a hot stove. He tried to pretend he hadn’t done it the moment the word left his mouth, but the ringing silence that followed the little animal scampering out of the house was still deafening. 

Nobody wants you. Even animals know there’s something wrong with you.

He was probably being dramatic. It still didn’t feel any less real. So he’d done his best to keep his distance from wildlife after that. Until it decided to come to him and take up residence in his hallway. 

Much like the possum, for several moments they just stared at each other. Then as he laid there on the shitty carpet, the thing he’d let into his apartment poked its head out a little further.

It was a cat. Probably. Its fur was so wet and dirty that it could have been just a very, very big rat. It was impossible to guess what color it was under the grime, but it had green eyes. Huge, luminous green eyes.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

It chittered at him. Like he was a damn bird. 

“Absolutely not.” Damien stood up and opened his door. Then pointed toward the alley outside to reinforce his point. “Out. This isn’t a hotel.”

The fucking creature that had somehow slipped inside continued to stare at him. It looked at the door. Then back at him. Then made a noise very similar to the one he’d heard wailing out by the dumpster. 

“Hey- don’t give me that shit. Your issues are not my problem.”

Okay. That sounded a little too familiar.

“I’m not your owner,” he amended. “Go bother them.”

The cat got up, wandered a bit closer, and Damien thought it was actually going to go out. Then it veered off course and decided to wind around his legs, feeling very much like whatever had grabbed his ankle.

You little bastard.

He was standing right in the doorway. It would have been easy to use his foot to nudge it out, and he was about to do just that when he glanced back at the alley. It was still pouring; maybe harder than before. His breath was coming out in misty clouds, and the overhead light in his apartment made it seem even darker out there by contrast. From what he could see, there was nothing out there but the garbage, a busy road, and a dozen other doors shut for the night. With their residents probably sleeping, given it was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. 

Damien looked back down at the ugly little thing pressing up against his sweatpants. It blinked at him, and he decided that even if he was heartless, he just didn’t have it in him to be quite that cruel. 

It wasn’t his problem. But it had to be someone’s. 

“Ugh. Fine,” he groaned, letting the door slam shut. “One night. Sleep it off, and in the morning you’re out. Got it?”

It didn’t even wait for him to stop talking. The moment the door shut it detached itself from him and scampered off, managing somehow to disappear in the small, nearly empty apartment. Not that he spent much time looking for it as he finally managed to drag himself to bed. After shucking off his sweatpants that were freshly streaked with dumpster residue, courtesy of his unwelcome guest, that is.

He did wonder if he’d need to worry about it crawling up to chew on his face in the brief moments before he finally passed out. But in the few seconds he listened for the sound of paws on the mattress, it hardly occurred to him that he’d stopped worrying about the lock on the door.  

[reallyghostlypost]

I spent too long on this... 😅

Lance could really work as a spy. Aside from his talents and his charming personality that you pointed out he also has a few... odd traits that could show he's hiding something. His personality seems contradictory at times, he also doesn't truly fit in SVE's world and his abilities don't make sense compared to everyone's else. It makes him feel special as a love interest in the game but they could also be useful tools for a spy.

I mean, he's apparently a combat mage but he spends very little time actually fighting monsters and seems to be a researcher more than anything else (but this way he's in the best position to spy on new ferngillian magical developments and why would he risk his life for the enemy nation more than he really has to?) He doesn't seem like the person who wants to hold political/important positions yet he's the vice-leader of his guild, a high ranking wizard and gets invited to fancy political events as the First Slash's representative (it's possible he's placing himself in a better position to spy on important people even if he doesn't really likes this type of life).

He holds these important positions but he's oddly always just a step below being at the top (second in command at his guild and a highly ranked wizard but probably not on in the Ministry's council). So he knows everything that happens in the adventuring/magical community and he's close enough to the top that he could influence things but since he isn't involved in the decision making process he isn't going to get suspected for any weird decision and risk his position. He's also involved in lots of things. He's in a good position to give (wrong) suggestions to both the Order and the Ministry. He's sometimes responsible for training new recruits in his guild (and possible other guilds since he has no hesitation to test the farmer himself and no one finds it unusual) which means he could leave slight gaps (vulnerabilities) in their education for his allies to exploit in a later conflict. He has access to the Badlands and Castle Village and could make things worse there without anyone noticing. If Lance decides to "check" on something in the desert and two months later the situation in the Badlands gets worse who would suspect him? Who would even think to link a trusted person like Lance doing some routine check ups with the odd magic suddenly popping up?

Also, how often does he interact with people/magic/items from Gotoro without anyone even thinking of suspecting him? After all he's a high ranking powerful wizard and it's his responsibility to react first to dangerous threats. For example, torpedo trouts gather around the Fabled Reef. How easy it would be for Lance to redirect a few towards specific targets while pretending to try and catch/kill/study them? Depending on how many fish are there no one would notice a handful suddenly missing. This way Lance could still secretly carry out his missions without leaving any clue about his involvement. How many other similar opportunities does he has? He could "find" random artifacts that have been used by the enemy nation but secretly he activated them himself before reporting them. He could just meet some gotoroan wizard and speak with him and later claim that he the "enemy" ran away before Lance could fight him. Plus he spends so much time alone in isolated locations...

Even after marriage, we don't actually know anything about him. He doesn't talk about his family or about his childhood, we know nothing about about his past, he doesn't mention his problems, fears, hopes, whatever. He doesn't share funny anecdotes about his colleagues. It's a very impersonal marriage. But interestingly, he often talks about his abilities in a slightly negative way. He mentions that he can't teleport exceptionally far, that he doesn't have a Nexus, that he isn't as strong as Magnus, that he needs to become stronger. What if he's actually stronger than he looks like but he hides it? It would make sense as spy, since no one would suspect him if some high level magic disaster happened since no one knows he's capable of it. And he could use his hidden abilities to escape if needed since no one would be able to plan against him. Having a hidden Nexus for example could allow him to travel to Gotoro without anyone else knowing, and if he could teleport farther than anyone else expects him to he could use the element of surprise to escape any nasty situations in case he ever gets discovered.

His interest in the farmer could be a point in this theory's favor too. Since it's his job to analyze Ferngill's magical capabilities he would probably notice the farmer's true magical potential faster than the others since he was trained to actively focus on this types of things. He could realize that the farmer might easily become one of Ferngill's biggest assets in the future. Obviously getting close to this person would be a priority for him. There's also that locked room he creates under the farmhouse, could he contact people in Gotoro in secret there? Keep important information hidden but easily accessible?

The only problem with this theory is that the community is very small and everyone knows everyone else. It's hard for a stranger to just slip in and not raise suspicions. It would be possible that Lance's mentor was also a spy and trained him from childhood to become a spy too. But that would mean that Lance has no ties with Gotoro and no real loyalty to it, why would he continue to spy for them over years, even after he befriends so many people? Could have Lance taken someone else's identity, like an adventurer/mage he killed? He could use something like the shrine of illusions to disguise himself. Still that leaves the possibility that someone will notice he's not who he claims to be.

But what if he used something similar to the memory shrine in the witch's hut? What if he killed some already trusted person, erased any memory of him and then took his place? He could make everyone forget how the original used to look like or any other important identifying information. This way no one could prove Lance isn't who he claims to be, no one would even suspect him in the first place. This could have happened years ago. It could make for a very dark story.

Hi! Who in the guild/magical group (like Camilla, lance,magnus etc…) would be a gotoran spy and how would the rest of the guild figure it out?

Hmm, now that's interesting...

Camilla could have been the prime suspect, but to me, she's just an all-powerful and spoiled witch. Yes, she's smart, cunning, strong in magic and can manipulate people - pretty good qualities for espionage and blackmail. But if you forget for a moment that Camilla really cares about people and their safety, she still wouldn't be a spy at least because she has almost absolute power here in Castles Village. After all, this woman is the only person who decides who can enter the village. She does what she wants here, and her high ego and confidence will not allow anyone to muddy the waters in her domain.

I don't think Jadu would have given so much time and effort to study, to betray at the end everything he has accomplished in all his work as a wizard. After all, double life is so exhausting, and it takes so much strength and emotional fortitude. He is already fucked up enough with his life to have to deal with getting information for the Gotoro Empire... Drama and intrigue? Fuck off please, let him finish his project and finally get some sleep. On the other hand, you never expect betrayal from the quietest and most inconspicuous people...

Like Jadu, Magnus will not sacrifice his status, his friends, or his peaceful life for the empty promises of a warm seat in Gotoro Empire. He is by nature a hermit in the woods, and it is his bliss to live the hermit's life, so why would he throw it all away?

But Lance... Handsome, always polite and friendly, silver tongue and sweet speech. Intelligent, talented in both magic and combat. All perfect, just like a knight in shining armor! Such a man, of course, does not arouse suspicion.... It would seem. Try to remember any anime, manga, cartoon or TV series where one of the characters, always friendly and perfect in everything, revealed his true face by the middle or end of the season. Now look at Lance again. I bet my precious chocolate brownies that he would turn out to be that "double agent". Politeness is one of the main tools of a spy (actually, I don't know if that's true or not, but you get the point).

Isaac is too straightforward and a little tactless in his conversation with his interlocutor. To me, he would not have been a good spy. He looks like someone who always tells people what he's really thinking. Isaac is not stupid, by any means, but espionage is a delicate and painstaking job, and our brave half-naked adventurer would be a fine one for a chain dog. To intimidate someone, yes, but then suspicion would quickly arise.

With Alesia it is rather complicated. It is difficult to answer such a question without knowing the full character, but in all available cutscenes and dialogues, Alesia is presented as a girl who knows the value of honor. The work of a spy can be quite dirty, up to and including blackmailing and eliminating unwanted people (in an extreme case it could go as far as murder), which doesn't suit her at all. Betraying those you are sworn to protect? Alesia would rather die. Though she's also very clever and dexterous, there's no doubt about it.

You could certainly decide that lesser-known adventurers or wizards would be the traitors, but we can judge that when the 2.0 update comes out.

Also, all of the above is purely my opinion, so if anyone also has speculations, conjectures or theories, feel free to share, I would be interested to hear it! Btw, thanks for your ask, anon! 👋

[crystalkleure]

It's the middle of the night and I've been thinking a lot about laughter. I have Many Somewhat-Disjointed Thoughts and Many Speculations and I wish I had a psychology degree, or someone with a psychology degree to bounce my Thoughts And Ideas off of, but I don't so I'm just going to kind of scrawl words into the void here on Tumblr dot com real quick.

Nobody can seem to agree on Exactly What Laughter Is And Why It Exists. Sometimes people laugh because something is true, and sometimes people laugh because it is not. And sometimes people laugh because something just doesn't make any fucking sense. What Is Funny seems arbitrary and contradictory and confusing and there are a million different Theories Of Humor that try to explain it [usually badly].

On the Science Side of the subject, laughing releases Be Happy And Relax chemicals in your brain, and also in the brains of others around you bc laughter is socially contagious like yawning. Other people will feel the urge to start chuckling if someone around them is. Laughter creates and shares endorphins. It can also even lessen physical pain.

One theory of Why We Find Things Funny goes like this: Something bonks someone on the head. For a moment, everyone else is worried about that guy, wondering if he's hurt, but then it becomes apparent he is fine. And THEN everyone laughs it off. It's funny because no one actually got hurt! Or, at least, not hurt in any sort of serious way -- just a minor bruise or scrape. They're not maimed or dead. So it's theorized that one function of laughter is to disengage our Alarm Mode once it becomes apparent that no actual threat is present, and it turns out there's no need for everyone to stay so worked up and thus they ought to calm down and get rid of the stress. Laughter is the signal to do that.

So, one reason something might be funny is because it's clear that no one is getting seriously hurt. The potentially-harmful situation is just silly, or even outrageous/unrealistic...and safe. There's an initial moment of Wondering "is this okay?" that is very quickly quelled by something affirming that yes, the situation is quite okay, and that is what makes the situation humorous. That’s the Recipe For Funny.

So, laughter is meant to soothe stress.

I suspect that "laughing at something because it's true" actually also has the same root cause as "laughing at something because it turned out to be a false alarm". Have you ever chuckled bitterly at something, thinking "Yep, that's a thing and it sure does suck lol"? Maybe a meme about some health problem you've suffered from?

If we look at laughter through the lens of catharsis, under the assumption that the point of laughing is to soothe, I think it actually makes sense for bitter truths to be sardonically humorous. I'd imagine it can be very cathartic to hear someone else convey "Yep, this is a thing that sucks!" when you've had experience with that sucky thing, because that means that someone understands. They're affirming your experiences as being real and shitty. That would elicit a warm smile of Vindication And Validation, and the affirmation being delivered in the form of a silly meme or something would elicit a laugh, for double the Cathartic Soothing Power.

Gallows-type humor might not always work for some people though, if they're being too affected by the shitty thing to be able to laugh it off. If the shitty thing is so painful that just thinking about it is very upsetting, then trying to joke about it might actually just make the hurt worse. Wound's too fresh.

Therefore, senses of humor are very individualistic, and also situational, explaining why different people might have very different reactions to a single joke, and those same people might even have very different reactions to it at different times. They could be 1. indifferent, because they don't Get the situation being joked about enough to understand why it might be harmful, so there's no moment of suspense before the laugh-inducing "it's fine!" punchline [or, alternatively, they don’t understand how the “it’s fine!” punchline is actually supposed to quell the initial suspense], or 2. angry, because they're currently so negatively affected by the situation being joked about that the "it's fine!" is a lie to them, because it's not fine and it really does hurt so it's not funny, or 3. amused, because the joke has successfully validated/soothed them! Or their reaction could change from 1 to 2, or 1 to 3, or 2 to 3 over time.

TL;DR: The cause of laughter appears to be the thought process "Something is wrong/dangerous and thus stressful, but now it's correct/safe so the stress is unwarranted and can be released!", with laughter itself then being the social signal that says "Everything's fine now, everyone relax!"

Laughter actually soothing low-level physical pain also lines up perfectly with all of this; that's ideally complementary to soothing stress. Stress itself can actually amplify or even outright cause physical symptoms. Stress causes pain, and pain causes stress. Laughter wants to help you to stop hurting so you can return to business as normal.

[2toplibrary]

UA Era / Dorm Life - Masterlist

We all love the vibe of Shouto and Katsuki annoying each other in class, intense training sessions, secret romance in the dorm, funny misunderstanding, awkward high school boyfriends - Find all your favourites in one place from classics to new updates!

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

We're Not by Bideroo

(G, 4362, 1/1)

Class 1A gathers the evidence, and comes to a decision.Todoroki and Bakugou are dumb.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Operation: TodoBaku? by itsclowreedsfault

(T, 3045, 1/1)

Class 1-A had two secrets.

Secret #1: Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shouto were in a relationship (but decided not to tell anyone else).

Secret #2: Everyone else knew about Secret #1.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

The indelicacies of nitroglycerin by yeetbz

(T, 50k, 4/4)

“Don’t you think Bakugou is pretty?”

Todoroki looked up, after having apparently caused the untimely deaths of his three friends.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

better late than never by bonnia

(T, 12k, 1/1)

bakugou and todoroki get hit by a body swap quirk, and physical contact seems to be the only answer to their predicament 

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

recapture by Kaleid369

(T, 8844, 1/1)

In which Katsuki's clingy boyfriend gets shrunken into a clingier child and he has to take care of him. Or: Todoroki gets a chance at a better childhood.  

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

PDA by Esselle

(T, 2397, 1/1)

Bakugou is as demanding when it comes to showing affection as he is about everything else.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Serendipity by waywardfacegarden

(T, 10k, 1/1)

The first time that it happens, is an accident. The ones after not so much.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

are you tired (from running through my mind) by ninepointeight

(T, 3363, 1/1)

“Hey,” Bakugou snarls, way too loudly considering how they’re not standing particularly far apart, “You, half-and-half bastard. Why the fuck do you keep staring at me?”

“Well,” Shouto replies immediately, without thinking, “You’re really pretty.”

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

with you, it's different by brioche

(T, 50k, 5/5)

Four times that Bakugou goes with Shouto to visit his mother at the hospital, and the time that she leaves it to visit them.  

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

It All Started with a Banana by MeikoAtsushi

(T, 10k, 1/1)

Three things. One, the shower stall is (apparently) occupied. Two, said occupant is still naked (a given). Three, naked occupant is Todoroki Shouto. Okay.

“Uh, do you, uh, fucking,” His brain short-circuits, why is he trying to upstart a conversation in a fucking shower – “Like bananas.”

Todoroki stares.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Proof That You are Mine by froppy (nekomimichan)

(T, 2985, 1/1)

5 times Bakusquad suspect there's something going on with Bakugou and Todoroki and the 1 time they catch them in action.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Eyes of the Beholder by citrussunscreen

(T, 5653. 1/1)

Snippets of TodoBaku as seen by some of the people around them.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

The loser's soliloquy by yeetbz

(T, 30k, WIP)

His name was still the same. His costume was still the same. His personality was still the same. But his former classmates lived in the sunlight, protecting and saving people with smiles on their faces as they fulfilled their dreams and made something of their lives, like Bakugou had always thought he was going to, too.

All but one former classmate.

Bakugou wasn’t the only one who had failed. He supposed he could take some comfort in that.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

A Very Precise Art by Esselle

(T, 3010, 1/1)

'Under his breath Katsuki mumbles, "No cheek kissing in public, asshole, remember?"

Todoroki looks unwilling to admit that he does. "You pinched my butt in front of Present Mic last week."

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

i wanna ruin our friendship by rokiizen

(T, 18k, 1/1)

Todoroki and Bakugou make out, become friends, and fall in love, all in that order.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

White Light by bluemoonrabbit

(T, 21k, 4/4)

In which the sudden appearance of Bakugou from the future forces everyone to confront their past and future selves, and their feelings in between.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

love blooms in the spring by pyrrhicwildfire

(G, 12k, 6/6)

Katsuki confesses to Todoroki before their second spring break.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

cruel to be kind by shaekspeares

(T, 35k, 1/1)

Over the course of a year, Katsuki Bakugou develops in the aftermath of the League of Villains run in. Introspection has never been his strong suit. Also, Todoroki is there- increasingly present, increasingly bothersome, and eliciting increasingly confusing feelings. Kidnapping was easier than this.

[alt: a look at todobakus evolving relationship from the perspective of one troubled lil asshole]

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

to stop time by staqua

(T, 5112, 1/1)

Uraraka ended up winning in the end, and her controller floated away in happiness as she accepted the box of mochi as the prize. As Shouto stared at her dolefully, she laughed and gave him a piece, and a grudging Bakugou too, though she held the box protectively after everyone wanted some.

Shouto found his mind both wander and analyze everything yet again, taking in the cheerful atmosphere but thinking about how it was going away-

"Oi, spaceman," Bakugou said, nudging him. "You're spacing out again."

OR: Five times Shouto didn't want anything to change, and one time he realizes he has nothing to worry about.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Trial and Error by dontartichoke

(T, 4308, 1/1)

Todoroki's come to the conclusion he likes Bakugou and makes several attempts at flirting. It goes about as well as you think.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

I’ll Tell You When the Snow Falls by realfiveweenies

(T, 2818, 1/1)

It all started with a walk.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Wardrobe Malfunction by naggeluide

(T, 1897, 1/1)

Todoroki's finally learned how to roll up his sleeve before setting his arm on fire, and Bakugou has to comment on it.

All Might breaks into their squabbles to give them some advice, but… what is All Might trying to advise them about actually?

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

inspirations are just thoughts trying to escape by ochako (kunimi)

(T, 5112, 1/1)

It probably says something about how much everyone lets Todoroki away with that they let it go on for so long.

—five times todoroki's friends suffered because of the words he says, and one time someone intervened.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

are u using ur fire on other guys yes or no by sbubble

(T, 21k, 1/1)

Not jealous, huh? a voice that sounds like Camie sing-songs inside his head.

Shut the fuck up, Katsuki thinks.

(bakugou just wants the fight, but todoroki always leaves him wanting more.)

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Whispers by naggeluide

(T, 4388, 2/2)

The whispers had gotten louder, since students had come stumbling back from the war.

Some days, Shouto couldn't tell whether they were coming from the turmoil around him or inside him. They said the same things, regardless, endless iterations of brother, father, mother, hero, villain, and loudest of them all, why and when will it break him too?

Some days, Shouto was certain that it already had.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

to stop time by staqua

(T, 5112, 1/1)

Five times Shouto didn't want anything to change, and one time he realizes he has nothing to worry about.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

honesty is like a kiss on the lips (come closer and I’ll tell you exactly how it is) by lelex

(T, 31k, 1/1)

After the League of Villains incident, Katsuki is just trying to keep it together. Things are slipping through the cracks and he's on his hands and knees trying not to let any of his responsibilities out of his sight. Most of the time he can't bear to be touched, especially from behind or anywhere near the back of his neck. Which means his regularly scheduled haircuts are absolutely out of the question. It's fine, he's coping, he's dealing with it—his hair grows out long, longer than it's ever been, and that's fine too.

Until it isn't. But Todoroki being in the right place at the wrong time in the communal boys bathroom as Katsuki is shaving his entire head in a fit of late night mania might just be the solution—one that spans years—that neither of them were looking for.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

10 Scientifically Proven Ways To Make Bakugou Fall In Love With Me by luxayaluh 

(NR, 9053, 4/4)

Todoroki Shouto is even desperate enough to check the second page of Google, just to find the perfect way to get Bakugou Katsuki to fall for him.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

step two: take his hand by brioche 

(G, 4989, 1/1)

Shouto asks Bakugou to show him how to fly.

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Bros Before Hoes by Crossfire 

(T, 6242, 1/1)

“Fine.” He tries hard not to sound as angry and hurt as he feels. He’s probably going to have to take some of this rage out on Deku or Kaminari, though. “Throw your time away with Sparky the Wonder Mutt, and lounge around in bed. Just makes my path to number one that much easier.”

Todoroki rolls his eyes again and reaches out to tug the door closed but stops just before it snicks shut.

“Bros before hoes, Katsuki. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

🔥💥❄️👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔 🔥💥❄️ 👔

Soft Touch by seventh_time_lucky

(T, 57K, 14/15)

Todoroki gets hit with a quirk that makes him sick unless a particular person is touching him. And that particular person just happens to be Bakugou Katsuki.

👉 More UA/dorm fics

👉Main hall    👉 Collections

👉 More UA fics

You think something is missing? Send me your suggestions.

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

��Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[wormstacheangel]

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 all of these are short so enjoy <3

Dean wasn’t sure where he stood with Cas, and he hated every fucking second of it.

He looked at his watch again, it’s only been a little less than an hour since Cas and Sam left on their stupid double date, but he already felt like he was crawling up the walls. He was pacing the room, trying to figure out what he could have said to stop Cas from going and wondering why Cas accepted the damn date in the first place.

Was he not enough?

It hasn’t even been three days since Dean finally said the big L word to him. Did Cas not hear him? Did he think he was fucking joking? Was the tongue down his throat not enough proof that Dean was over the fucking moon to finally have Cas. Have him in a way he never thought was going to be possible for them.

Why? Why did he go?

Maybe he was a lousy kisser? No. No, he’s an awesome kisser! But what if-

Dean jumps at the sound of his ringtone and answers it without looking at who it is.

“Dean.” He heard the familiar annoyed voice call his name in a low growl. “Stop.”

It took a second for Dean to understand what was going on. “Cas? Dude, why are you calling me? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your stu-your date?”

“I can’t. You are being insufferable.”

Dean was taken back by the words. Did he actually send all those texts he thought about sending?

“I know you tend to forget, Dean, but I can feel your longing, and it is distracting.” Oh! Oh. Shit. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? What the fuck do you think is wrong? That’s what Dean should have said but instead, “Nothing.” He is a coward, first and foremost. At least, when it comes to Cas, he was.

“You are giving me too much of a headache for it to be nothing.” Cas sighed, and Dean noticed the background noise quiets down on Cas’s end. “Are you okay? Should I come home?”

Yes! “No!” Dean quickly waves him off as if Cas could see him. “Stay. Have a fun time with your um, with your date.”

Cas doesn’t say anything for a long 20 seconds--Dean had to check if he hung up--before he sighs. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

No. Not, goodbye. “I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll wait up for you so we can...talk. About you finally having your first date. Look at you, back from the dead and in the game. Good on you, Cas.”

“I would like that.” Silence again. Dean was about to hang up when he heard, “It’s not my first date.”

“What?”

“You said this is my first date, but it’s not.” Dean was about to tease him. To remind him that the date with the reaper or the one with him as a babysitter didn’t count but Cas beat him to the next words. “I like my dates with you more.”

Dean’s heart skips, and he thinks he misheard him, but before he can ask Cas to repeat it. The line goes dead, and Dean is left pacing the floor again. Wondering if the heat on his cheeks was ever going to go away.

“Am I--Is Cas...Am I being played?” Dean fell into his bed with a groan. Still left confused on where he stood with Cas.

--(More under the tag)

Cas is doing it again.

He’s acting as if he didn’t just come back from a date with this...Lucy person and pretending that everything is so damn peachy. He was sitting on the other side of Dean’s bed, once again head resting on Dean’s shoulder as if it had now become a nice habit of his. He welcomed the weight, the warmth of Cas pressed beside him, of course. He is just so damn confused.

“You know,” Cas looked up at him, his nose pressed to Dean’s jaw. “You’re the one that asked how my night went. So I sort of expected you to, you know, listen.”

He was listening. Listening to every damn word Cas spoke because, of course, he didn’t miss a single detail. He talked about the food, bland he described it, and Eileen picked off his plate. He talked about how Lucy laughed when he didn’t say anything funny, and Sam insisted that it meant she liked him. He talked about how he wasn’t sure if he liked these fancy places; he was used to the noise of diners and kind waitresses refiling his coffee when he didn’t need to ask.

But just now, he was just rambling on about how smart, kind, and great Lucy was. Did he use any of those words? No, but he might as well be kissing the floor she walked on by the way he talked about her.

“Dean?” Cas reached over, the palm of his hand laying flat on the side of Dean’s face. “You okay?”

Yes. “No.”

Wait. He was supposed to say the opposite.

Cas sat up to look at him better, and Dean missed the weight of him already. Wanting to reach over and pull him back in, he also might as well say what he thought so they can move on from this because he was so fucking tired of this.

They are so close, and shit will not happen if Dean keeps rambling in his head instead of talking out loud. Like Sam says--or better yet, what he is trying to drill in his head--communication is the key to a healthy relationship. Right now, he just wants a fucking relationship.

Dean looks at Cas; sad sky eyes stare back at him. Filled with questions that maybe he was also afraid to ask, but it’s Dean’s turn to make a move this time. At least he thinks so. He wasn’t sure when they started taking turns, but fuck, he missed Cas tonight and hates that someone else got to have a romantic night with him.

Without another thought, Dean pulled at the stupid bowtie and dragged Cas forward until their lips met for another long-awaited kiss. The tug may have choked an actual person, but luckily, Cas didn’t seem to find a problem with it as he moved closer to deepen the kiss.

Tell me you didn’t kiss her. Tell me you don’t want to see her ever again. Tell me you want me. Only me. Tell me...tell me you love me.

“I love you.” Dean hears himself say. It was desperate as his grip on Cas tightened; he could feel his fingers dig into Cas’s waist as he pulled him forward until his whole weight was on top of him. Cas starts to pull away, probably wanting to look at him again, but Dean keeps his eyes closed as he cranes his neck up to catch Cas’s lips. Wanting to feel, to pretend, that Cas only was his.

Cas kisses back for a second or two, longer, but it didn’t take much strength for him to pull back to look at Dean. Eyes filled with concern as he let Dean roll him into his back.

“Say it back, damn it.” Dean starts undoing the bowtie and fumbles with Cas’s buttoned shirt as he noses the stubble on the angel’s jaw. “Cas, say it.”

“I love you.” Cas takes Dean’s face between his large hands and forces him to look at his sad eyes again. “I love you, Dean. So tell me, what’s wrong?”

Dean didn’t try to pull away; instead, he fell against Cas’s body. Laying all his weight on him, knowing damn well Cas could take it, he probably weighed nothing to him. Like a feather.

Dean’s face tucked into Cas’s neck as he felt those fingers in his hair, soothing them before he rubbed his back. Probably trying to figure out which one was more comforting, but for Dean, any soft touch from him will do.

This is stupid. Desperate. Pathetic. But he needs to ask.

“Am not enough for you?”

“What?”

Dean doesn’t move from his hiding spot. Not wanting Cas to see his face as he talks. “Why’d you say to a date with someone else? I thought we were...I know I’m not good at all this, but I thought we were--at least, I was trying.” Dean shoved his face closer into his throat until he could feel Cas’s heartbeat against his nose. “I was trying, Cas!”

“I know!” Cas’s hands tighten on his Dean’s shoulders as if he was going to push him away, but then he stopped himself. “I only said yes because I figured it was what you wanted.”

“What?” Dean mumbled into Cas’s skin before he pushed himself up just enough to stare down at him. Repeating himself. “What?”

“The day after we kissed, you ignored everyone, including me. I thought you were...ashamed. Maybe you wanted to keep things private. So to keep Sam from suspecting us-”

“You said yes to a date.” Dean finished for him while Cas slowly nodded. Looking at him as if fighting with himself to not read Dean’s thoughts. Probably best he didn’t. He’ll just hear screaming. Dean sighed in relief as he fell into Cas again, relaxing as Cas’s arms wrapped around him. “Dumbass.”

“I didn’t mean to make you doubt my feelings for you. But to be fair, how can you possibly doubt my feelings for you? I died so that I can say them.”

“Actually, I thought you changed your mind cause I sucked at kissing.”

“You do not suck.”

“Thanks.” Dean chuckled, kissing Cas’s bare chest. His cheeks were warming up as his mind just caught up with his action. “Sorry.”

“I should be the one-”

“No, Cas. Me. I made you think I wanted to hide us.” Dean lifted his head again, looking down at Cas, who gave him a soft, warm smile. “I don’t. Maybe I was a little nervous, but that’s cause you kept acting like me holding your dumb hand was like...normal or whatever.”

“I thought if I make a big deal of it, then you’ll freak out.” Damn. Got him there. And yet, he still freaked out. “But I see now that we should have...talked about it?”

“Yeah.” Dean chuckled as he realized how stupid they both had been. “Yeah, that probably would have helped.”

Cas surprised him by reaching up to give him a hesitant kiss. His eyes were bright as they sparkled when Dean met the familiar gaze.

“We can um,” Dean clears his throat nervously as he keeps his eyes on Cas. “We can talk later.”

“Later. Later is good.”

“Good.”

Cas reaches to kiss him again, bringing him down until they are lost in each other.

--

The next morning Dean woke up with a spring in his step, and Sam noticed right away.

“What’s up with you?” He raised his eyebrows at him, teasing him with a smile. “Had a fun night with Scooby?”

“Watched Animaniacs, for your information.” Dean poured two cups of coffee. “And no. I had the most perfect company last night.”

Sam opened his mouth before squinting at him. “Did you-? Wait, did you bring a girl over to the bunker?”

“No!” Dean said just as Cas walked in, wrapped in nothing but Dean’s robe. “There you are. Thought you were gonna follow me.”

Dean walked over to hand Cas his coffee, kissing his cheek before walking back to get his own cup.

“I was. You neglected to tell me I wasn’t wearing clothes. So I had to go find something to cover up.” Cas sat in front of Sam who stared at them with wide eyes. “Morning, Sam.”

It took Sam a few seconds before he muttered. “I hate you guys. I mean, congratulations, but fuck you. Didn’t need that image in my head so early in the morning.”

Dean sat beside Cas, shoulders bumping, before he looked at Sam over the rim of his cup. “Now you can stop trying to set Cas up on dumb dates.”

“I had a fun time last night, Sam. Thank you.” Cas quickly said before looking back at Dean. “But I think I will just continue dating your brother instead.”

“Okay,” Sam got up, giving them both a tight smile and a thumbs up. “Congrats again. Next time wear underwear, Cas.”

“Stop looking at my boyfriend!” “I couldn’t find it.” Dean and Cas say at the same time.

Dean finally knows what Cas is to him.

“We should hurry if we want to beat the kids to the diner.” Cas gets up, kissing the top of Dean’s head as he goes. “I like this.”

“Me too.” Dean reaches for his hand, tangling their fingers together as he pulls Cas down for a kiss.

Best friend. Boyfriend. The light at the end of the tunnel.

“Love you.” Dean whispers against his lips, making Cas smile into the kiss.

“Love you, too.”

Everything. He’s everything.

[getlostsquidward]

The gaps in your hearts (Part 2)

Lou Miller x fem!reader

A/N: You asked for part 2, and I shall deliver. I hope it's worth your wait!!

Summary: After your departure, an unexpected circumstance had you arriving back at the loft, back at Lou. Will the gaps in your hearts only become wider or will they be finally filled?

Part one

“Oh, bugger. Baby? I’m home.”

“Nice place.”

“Try heating it.”

“There’s a room for you upstairs. Your stuff’s upstairs too.”

Lou called your name a couple of times but she got no answer. Maybe you went out and got something from the store. She furrowed her eyebrows at the notion that you didn’t let her know you’ll go out like you usually does.

She can’t wait for you to meet Debbie.

The sun has set down and you weren’t at home yet. Lou was growing worried each minute that passes. She’d left you text messages, she tried to call you several times, but all of it went to voicemail. Where did you go?

Debbie had returned from her closure meeting with Claude. She had bought takeout for dinner but Lou wasn’t in any mood to eat. She was antsy but keeping it down so her friend won’t notice. Maybe you were called in at work? Maybe you went out with a friend and forgot to send her a text. The blonde knows you can perfectly take care of yourself but she can’t help but be worried.

“Where’s your girl?” Debbie asked, reminded of Lou calling someone ‘baby’ when they arrived earlier.

Lou just shrugged her shoulders, not really knowing what to answer.

“Maybe she hit her head and woke up from the truth,” the brunette joked.

Lou glared at her friend. “Not funny.”

“Tell me about her.”

The blonde started to tell her friend everything. From how you met, the ups and downs of your relationship, and how loving and wonderful you are. You were patient and understanding; you were perfect in every way and she hated how she’d managed to hurt the one person that did nothing but love her.

The day you moved out of the loft was the most devastating day of her life. It was way much worse than when Debbie left before.

She knew that you were checking in on her through Matt, and she was wracked with guilt. Even after what she’d done, you still care for her. Lou unconsciously checks her phone to see if you left a message but to no avail. You really honoured your word that you’d give her time, and she was thankful for that.

In your two-month break, she really had thought about it all. She used the time to sort out her feelings. Hell, she even opened up to some of her other friends for help, something she rarely does even with those who know her. Unearthing her feelings.

Lou had feelings for Debbie. She didn’t know if it was romantic or if it was just a deep affection. She didn’t really think much of it. Debbie was one of the few of the persons she knows she could trust with her life and in the conworld, such a person was like a rare gem. It was hard to find, and if you do, you’ve got to treasure it. And so she did.

“Maybe you’d mistaken the concept of love and affection. You told me you really didn’t think anything about it and that explains it. The moment you felt that that person was dear to you, you immediately equated it to romantic love.”

The words mentioned had hit Lou, hard. Once she realized that, she promptly had to find you. She called you, but you didn’t answer. She didn’t know where you were staying so she asked your friends, and that’s how Lou found you drowning in liquor in some alley.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Debbie berated, feeling rather guilty about how she was probably the reason you left for the second time around.

“I do. No need to remind me.”

“I’m gonna tell you to go find her, but I also need you to focus on the job. Can you do both?”

“Of course,” Lou sighed. She won’t know what she would do if she were to lose you for real this time.

-

You were feeling rueful for leaving Lou without a word. You knew she’d be worried sick, but it was the best for the two of you. Once again, you fell into your routine. It was incredibly helpful that an event was coming and you can spend all of your time at work. Though this time, the constant drinking was out of your to-do list.

Your mind often wandered to Lou. She said something about a job, maybe that’s what they’re doing right now. Has she been thinking of you too?

The messages and missed calls Lou had sent you were not in your knowledge as you’d let your best friend hide your phone, and bought a new one for you. At first, you thought that it would be ridiculous and childlike of you but maybe she had a point. The worst-case scenario would be Lou filing for a missing person’s case, but you knew she wouldn’t dare cross paths with the police.

-

“Oh my god, you guys. This party is nuts. I’m not kidding! If your dress is ugly, you can’t wear it, no shit! They will bower your wardrobe!” Tammy rambled and rushed to get into the loft where she got everyone’s attention.

“I love that!” Lou quipped.

“Oh I gotta pee,” Tammy continued to ramble. “Every table cost a quarter-million dollars that if they allow you to buy one! I mean not just any $250,000 check will be approved, I mean they literally have to tell you whether or not they’ll take your money, it’s crazy!”

Everyone was standing outside the bathroom, still listening to Tammy rant about the Met.

“And then you can’t bring anyone, that you clearly go by yourself. They spend a hundred grand on food and apparently no one eats, it’s really crazy,” the blonde finished as she went out, kind of out of breath from the continuous rambling.

“Did you get the seating chart?” asked Debbie.

“The what?”

“The seating chart.” Tammy handed the special glasses she was wearing to Debbie.

“If I haven’t said it, it’s really crazy. This one person that I’m working with maybe is the only saving grace of that place. Thank goodness for Y/N,” the blonde sighed, capturing the attention of Lou.

She shared looks with Debbie, hoping that it was you their friend was talking about.

After discussing the seating chart, they approached Tammy and straightforwardly asked about you, if you were the same person she’d mentioned. Apparently, you quit your last job and had started few weeks prior to Tammy. Lou asked if you’re doing well, and almost cried when she nodded. When Tammy asked why they are curious, Debbie answered. “Lou’s girl. Left because of this dumbass right here.”

The blonde had a surprised expression on her face, a bit amazed at how small the world is. The person they’ve been looking for was only at their reach this whole time.

“She’s sweet. If you’re planning to get her back, which I know you would, you better not mess up.”

Since that day, Lou was itching to contact you but inhibited herself. She’d finish the job first, then she would have you back. If she was lucky enough to be given a second chance, which she wouldn’t fucking waste, she can finally go to California riding with you on her new bike like you always wanted to do.

Finally, it was the first Monday in May. Lou was still in the van with Nineball, preparing food for her. She remembered you telling her she would look good in a chef’s uniform. She wasn’t actually a chef right now, but she still owes you a hundred bucks.

What if you weren’t gone? Maybe you would be in on the heist too, and you would be the most beautiful woman in her eyes, everyone else in the Met is damned. She knew you would have loved and drooled over the green jumpsuit she was wearing.

The heist was successful, and the ladies were lounging at the loft. Their dillydally was halted when an unexpected guest has stormed the loft. Daphne Kluger.

“You guys are fucked,” the actress huffed. “Wow, nice place.”

“Excuse me, you are trespassing-”

“No, we asked her to come,” Lou cut Tammy’s accusation.

Debbie started to explain how Daphne might have gotten a sense of what they were doing, so they roped the brunette in. Daphne then asserted how she was the one who was saving everyone from insurance fraud. Another revelation had caused panic to those who didn’t know, scared that they might be busted and imprisoned.

“We will not be the prime suspect.”

“Then who will be the prime suspect?”

Lou listed several people like the security guys and the busboy. Their attention was focused on Daphne that they didn’t notice another person coming in. You quietly opened the door in purpose, glancing at each of the women inside. You’d heard the last bit of their conversation and captured their attention by announcing your presence.

“The shady guy who put Debbie away,” you casually commented, walking towards everyone.

“Wow,” Daphne chuckled. “The boyfriend.”

Everyone but Debbie and Daphne was shocked, for the third time around. They didn’t really expect guests today. Lou looked like she had seen a ghost but didn’t take her eyes off you.

“Yup. If they were gonna be looking for somebody, just had to make sure it wasn’t one of us.”

You whispered a “Hi, Tam” to your coworker, and took a sit in the middle of her and Daphne. “The precision, right?” the actress turned to you. “The attention to detail, a little grace note that really makes something sing.”

While she was blubbering about how well-thought the job was, she scooted closer to you and put a hand on your thigh. Lou raised an eyebrow at the action, jealousy bubbling in her chest.

“Why are you doing this?” Tammy asked, referring to Daphne. “And Y/N? You were in too? How?”

You let the brunette answer first and when she finished, Debbie had answered for you.

“She was our other mole in the Met, aside from you and Nine.”

“Oh, you were an angel, Y/N. She made sure I was okay after hurling my guts out. Much much better company than my date,” Daphne preached, leaning her head on your shoulder. You rest your head on hers in return.

Lou’s jaw was gritted, it was too much for her and she couldn’t look any longer. She looked at Debbie and gave her a perplexed look, asking for further explanation.

The brunette just shrugged her shoulder, knowing it was up to you to talk to Lou. After all, it was the reason she approached you. At first, she had only talked to you about Lou, but later called to ask if you were willing to join in the job. You’d said yes right away.

That night, you saw Lou sitting near the shore. She was staring straight ahead as you sat next to her.

“Lou?”

“You know, I planned to talk to you after we got the money. But you got to me first,” she whispered.

“You have to thank Debs for that.”

Lou chuckled, “Debs? What, you’re on a nickname basis now? She doesn’t even let me call her that.”

“She told me everything. And, I- I’m sorry, Lou. I shouldn’t have left like that, left you worried though you had a job to focus on-”

Lou cut you off as she pulled you in for a hug. “No, Y/N. I should be the one apologizing.”

Her hand was running up and down your back, the touch soothing all of your troubles. You can finally feel at peace. There was no snarling voice at the back of your head, no heavy feeling. You feel like a sailor in the middle of a calm sea.

“I’ll make it up to you, for real, this time,” Lou pulled back, giving you a smile. You nodded in return.

“Although you may have to explain first what was that earlier,” her smile faded, and glared at you playfully.

You were about to ask what she was referring to when you suddenly remembered. You told her how you may or may not have told Daphne that you were on a rough patch and she volunteered to help make Lou jealous. Both of you shared a laugh as she commented on how effective it was that she had to restrain herself from tearing you apart from the actress.

There was no time to waste, you thought as you pressed your lips against Lou’s. The kiss was slow and passionate, the both of you pouring all your feelings out. Her hand entangled itself on the base of your skull as she deepened the kiss, tongue swiping on your bottom lip asking for entrance. You let her dominate you, a soft moan coaxed out of your mouth.

The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of Lou’s lips; your hammering heart and the waves lapping gently at the shore.

“I love you, baby,” Lou murmured, both of you breathless.

“I know, Lou. I love you too.”

[mewberii]

Streamer!Scaramouche [2]

thanks for all the support in the first part! i wrote a second part where scaramouche plays genshin + the reader comes in (i tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, so let me know if there’s something off!). you’re a close friend of scaramouche and also a voice actor!

i had been planning this since i wrote the first part, but because i was busy and uninspired i couldn’t finish it. but here it is and it’s actually pretty long (over 5k words...)! i hope you guys will like this!! obviously he’s a little nicer than he is in game but,,, for the sake of the plot + it being a modern au, it had to be done sjnfdskjf

He was selected to play the beta for genshin because of his popularity and tbh he really wanted to play it

The game hadn’t really caught his eye all that much when he first heard about it but he saw how everyone online went crazy over it (plus other streamers who also were selected to play it in early access kept talking about it) and he became more curious to know what it would be like and if it’d live to everyone’s expectations

However he couldn’t really play it until it was officially released because he had a very busy schedule, and when he saw other streams of people playing it he was,,, lowkey jealous because it did look fun

When it was finally released and the game finished downloading and installing, he went live right away

And since so many people were looking forward to seeing him play plus the game was getting so popular so fast, that stream of when he first played hit his biggest milestone of live viewers ever

ANYWAYS skip forward to further into the game

when it comes to the gacha,,,

we’ve established that this boy is loaded. he won’t hesitate to throw some big amounts of money at the game to get every single character and weapon he wants and get their constellations to the max

i feel like he’d make little bets (and it works as a way to thank the chat for the support) like “if i get (insert newest character) in the first 50 pulls, i will gift 50 subs”

he’d be SOOOOOOO LUCKY it’d make everyone who doesn’t play think that it must be very easy to get the 5 stars or that the drop rate must be very high,,,

so in the end he’d have to gift the subs and it’d be funny to see the chat go absolutely crazy because everyone is commenting at the same time trying to see if they got lucky too and got the sub

but the chat goes so fast that they can’t even see their own comment after they send it sNDJGDJSK 

he’d end up turning subs mode on for a while because it goes crazy

and that’s when he’d see people going “I GOT THE SUB-” all excited and he can’t help but chuckle and congratulate them for being one of the lucky ones

probably another game he can use to play with some subs once in a while! they could play co-op and when he’s a very high level he’d go to the worlds of some of his subs with lower level to help them with whatever they need

SO, LITTLE SKIP HERE

this is where i want the reader to slide into the picture

you’d be a voice actor, and also you have been a friend of his for a very long time

he met you even before he started streaming and you were always so supportive of him, as he was of every and each of your dreams

in fact, he would have invited you over more than once to stream with him

people don’t say anything bc they’re afraid of scaramouche banning them (it’s happened before) + they understand it can be disrespectful... but…

some people lowkey ship you two a little bit,,,,,, you didn’t hear it from me. scaramouche don’t ban me----

so one day he’s making another livestream playing genshin (sponsored by mihoyo to promote the newest update and event) and they’re going to release a new character 

AND he has told everyone that you are the voice actor of the new character, who will be introduced in the event and is also getting their own banner

so everyone is very curious of what they’ll be like, if scaramouche will try to get them (obviously he will, he has every single character…. the amount of money he has put into the game…. just thinking of it gives me the heebie-jeebies) 

could he even,,, main them,,,,

spoiler: he won’t because he’ll stay honest till the end (and no hard feelings) but there are other characters that he has built up to the max just like them and still work better with the way he plays but he’ll still find a chance to use them often

he didn’t know anything of what the character you voiced would be like because you wanted to keep it a surprise and he knew his audience would enjoy seeing his first reactions

I think the character you voice in the game would have the role that Scaramouche has in the actual game, and their design would be fairly similar (maybe similar color palette) to the design fans made for him as a genshin character (the one i mentioned that he uses for popup notifs of subscriptions and all!)

needless to say he’d absolutely love their personality and the charisma you showed in their lines

of course when he finally gets them he shows everything about them including all their voice lines and he compliments y/n’s voice acting… that was the first time people suspected that....

mayhaps… scaramouche….

has feelings for you....

it’s in the soft gaze in his eyes,,, the gentle smile on his lips,,, his soft voice when saying “I think this one is my favorite line of theirs”

and just how BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL his laugh sounds when someone comments he should invite you and ask you to do that voiceline live for him and everyone else

he’d jokingly reach for his phone and be like “should i call them? i could” 

(but he wouldn’t because he doesn’t want to disturb you, you may be busy, considering you still hadn’t replied to the messages he sent to you before he started the stream a few hours ago)

if anyone dares be mean to you saying you got the chance to voice act for genshin just bc of scaramouche

or implies that he did something to get you there he’ll get quite mad even tho he won’t speak up about it (he might if enough people say it) 

people can see something shift in his gaze,,,, and he bans them permanently right away

it’d be kinda funny when he does those “reading unban requests” streams and he goes past immediately rejecting people who said those kind of stuff, not even reading the apologies JSNKJFNDSJKGNSDK

some people say he’s too strict about it but literally his stream his rules. people who don’t like him should just not watch him

and people who like him should NOT speak badly about you or doubt your talent and effort, which is what brought you that opportunity in the first place

one day he’d be streaming playing the game, he had been using your character and gathering materials to get their last ascension

and at one point he’d grab his phone and look at the screen for a second before putting it back down and saying he had planned something else for tonight besides playing genshin for a while

then, the doorbell would ring (before he could even close the game-) and it’d be heard from his setup room so people in the chat heard it and they’re all like???

it’s definitely not takeout because scaramouche never orders takeout when he’s on his own, he usually cooks for himself and just orders it when he’s with friends and they all feel like eating something different

actually, offtopic, but i have a feeling he’d be very responsible when it comes to food and like he’d cook himself proper meals all perfectly balanced and all- he could afford having someone cook for him but his house = his privacy and personal space so he’d rather do it himself

it’s like, past 10pm, so no way it would be a package or mail at that time

and then he says “we have a visitor tonight”

and then the chat goes crazy saying “CHILDE” “HARBINGERS” but mostly “Y/N!??!?/PLEASE LET IT BE Y/N”

AND IT WAS YOU!!!!

and omg you brought takeout--------

it had been a while since they had seen you in scaramouche’s stream and you didn’t have your own channel (even though there were many people who encouraged you to open one)

SO everyone was very excited

i feel like scaramouche wouldn’t be the biggest fan of eating on camera so you guys would put the food away so that you can eat it later on your own without an audience

and you two would just spend a while talking to the chat, watching videos

AND reviewing fanart and fanmade content together!! it’d be so cute especially fanarts of the two of you together, little animatics or comics of funny clips or memes from his streams of you two,,,

someone made a little felt plushie of the genshin character you voiced and the way you COOED because it was SO cute

only those who were truly paying attention were able to notice the soft smile on scaramouche’s lips and the way he looked at you as you gushed over how cute the little plushie is and how talented the person who made it is!!

also you’d tell him you saw signora make a stream where she talked to some of her fans on discord individually to give them advice on their life/problems (nothing too serious) and it was very funny and you wanted to do that with him someday

and he’s like “that… could be a huge mess. people could say some crazy stuff” and you’re like “NO but i talked to her about it and she said she got her mods to talk to them first and approve them before they moved them up to the channel where she was to talk to her”

and he’s like “still…….. what if people lie and then when they get to talk to us they say something-”

and you’re like “BOY!!!! DO YOU NOT TRUST YOUR FANS *GASP*” and everyone in the chat is also going “GASP” “HE DOESN’T TRUST US…” “IS THIS YOUR IDOL…..?” “SAY SORRY” (all good fun, obviously he’d love to talk to everyone if he could make sure there won’t be anything disrespectful said)

SO!!!!! you two say you’ll plan to do something like that soon and everyone is very excited, they can already tell it’ll be both super cute and hilarious

before he ends the stream, you two watch some videos together

some are about some upcoming videogames and he talks about them and what he knows and explaining things to you... he is.. so knowledgeable…

the way you look at him as he goes into a little rant about it… cinematic parallels with the way he looked at you before

ONCE AGAIN, people aren’t blind. they notice. but they keep it to themselves bc scary scara (the way i had to resist overusing this one joke with his name-)

so the stream ends and you two walk out of the setup room to go to his living room and eat the takeout you brought while watching something on tv

he apologises because the food is cold now, but you brush it off saying it’s ok, you had missed being on his streams and you two can just heat up the food again

he doesn’t look at you in the eyes as he mutters that you know you can join his streams whenever, and instead just says it as he makes his way to the kitchen to heat the food

you join him in the kitchen soon after and tell him you also bought something for dessert and put it in the fridge already before

and honestly he didn’t know how much he wanted to eat that dessert until it was in his fridge, so he can’t stop himself from sighing and saying “god, i love you”

there’s silence for a second, right as the microwave beeps as it finished heating the food

it feels eternal to him, but you immediately started laughing and said jokingly “of course you do! you’re welcome!” 

he’s happy you took it as a joke because that’s not how he planned to confess (he didn’t plan to confess anytime soon in the first place) but at the same time ?? he’s lowkey offended inside because? you took it as a joke?? is it so unrealistic that you wouldn’t even think that he meant it romantically?

it’s at that moment that he realises that if he didn’t want to confess before, now he does.

he wouldn’t want anyone to know about how he let that slip because he’s sure no one in you two’s friend group even knows he likes you

but you,,, actually,,,,, were actually caught off guard too because scaramouche wasn’t precisely one for words of affection and he showed his care for everyone with his actions

in fact, you had never heard him say those words before but well- it was kinda nice- if only he meant it as you feel it- but he couldn’t, right? who’d confess their feelings so casually while looking at a dessert in the fridge with desire-------

that night, it gets pretty late and to be honest he’s a little too tired to drive you home as he usually would, so he asks if you’d like to sleep over

it wouldn’t be your first time doing so, not even the first time you stayed unplanned, and he had a couple guest rooms that you could use so you accepted

also, staying for longer meant you could keep watching some more of that series with him without worrying about it getting late

or,,,

“actually” you said in a low voice, almost a whisper, since it was getting late and you two had been in complete silence while watching the series “i lowkey still wanted to stream some more”

he scoffs but then lets out a short chuckle, replying in the same volume

“it’s past 2am, who’s going to watch me stream now?”

“i would” have mercy for his poor heart- “but i’d be the streamer too this time so it doesn’t count” 

“what even would we do”

“can we play that co-op game you played with childe? it was so much fun” 

had you not brought it up, he wouldn’t have offered that ever because? if he had recently played it with childe he didn’t want to stream it again and make it feel repetitive for his audience 

(jokes on him because when genshin came out they put up with it being the only thing he streamed for over a week. they’d rewatch any game if it’s you two playing it)

but to be honest, he didn’t really want to stream anymore that day and just wanted to be with you, just you and no one else

he got up from the couch and walked towards the hallway, making you look up to him in confusion for a second, but then started getting excited knowing this meant he was going to let you play it with him

“i don’t really feel like streaming anymore today, but we can still play it. let’s go”

the next day, you two wake up around the same time and make breakfast together

scaramouche i feel is not very talkative in the mornings 

in fact, i feel like he’s just not the most talkative in general. he’s more the type to listen, but it’s different during his streams because he’s doing what he loves and talking about what he loves

and when it comes to you and he talks more it’s because he’s talking to who he loves----

before you’re going to leave and you’re standing at the door about to say goodbye to him, he suddenly speaks up before you can

“do you want to go somewhere tomorrow?”

you raise your eyebrows in curiosity from the sudden request, but then smile at him and nod

“yeah sure! what do you have in min-”

“it’s a date” he said, interrupting you, which was weird enough of him (since he would never interrupt you), but his words were even weirder-

“h-huh?” you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, and scaramouche just repeated his words

on the outside, he looked so casual and just, confident- bUT INSIDE he was actually panicking a little bit 

but just a little bit.

After a moment, you smiled at him again, this time somewhat more shily but also excited for your date!

“I look forward to it”

Just with that, you two knew you had made the first step

You weren’t just friends anymore

You two had hung out on your own many times before, in fact and as it was mentioned before, you two had even slept over at his house or yours many times before

but it had all always been purely platonic, and you guys had never even questioned that aspect of it even after realising you had romantic feelings for each other

he’d spend the rest of the day thinking of what you could do the next day, as if he hadn’t been brainstorming for ideas all night either

i feel like he hasn’t gone in many (if not any--) dates before

solely because he has never been interested in romance plus he had never liked someone or at least, not as much as he liked you

and even when he found out he felt something for you, he just always told himself he was okay with how things were, because he’d never experienced anything beyond friendship and didn’t feel the need to try and maybe ruin the friendship

SO he didn’t have many ideas of what a good date could be

he definitely didn’t want a cliché corny date, but he really didn’t have any idea of what was good enough for a date

(and if for future dates you want something he’d consider a “”cliché corny date”” he’d do it for you and actually enjoy it)

the last thing he wanted was to have to ask you what you could do for your date

1- because he didn’t want to show you any side of him that didn’t look like he always has everything under control and he’s always composed (as if you wouldn’t want to see every side of him, even his most vulnerable sides- you’d have to work on that with him when you two become official)

2- he… kind of wanted to surprise you…..

but it really got to the point where he really didn’t know what you’d like the most (or what he’d like the most too) and what he wanted most over anything else is to not disappoint you in you two’s first date

SO he finally texted you asking if there was anything special you wanted to do (and therefore indirectly admitting he……….. just really wanted to ask you out. so much he did it without thinking of what he’d do if you said yes--)

you didn’t seem to mind, and in fact you were happy he asked for your opinion 

overall, scaramouche was very independent so he wasn’t one to ask others for advice, opinions or anything, much less for help regarding anything

“how long has it been since we last went to the arcade? we could go there! i heard from childe that they added new games!”

and he’s like !?!?!?? THAT…. is…….. the perfect idea

“that actually sounds perfect” he admitted, and the message brought a big smile to your face 

“just don’t get mad at me when you lose at all of them” he sent right after, teasing you, and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh out loud

“the last time i won in your favorite game” you reminded him, and even after he read your message, he took a little bit to reply

(he needed a second to put the pieces of his pride together SJNFKJDS)

“don’t get used to it, it won’t happen again”

“we will see about that” the more you two joked like this, the more excited you got thinking about tomorrow

scaramouche was sure now that it’d be a great first date that you’d both remember forever

the next day, it was almost the time for the date and scaramouche was going to pick you up at your house

i feel like scaramouche would be very fashionable and even in his style he doesn’t try to hide that he’s loaded…

not that he cares about buying cheap clothes, literally he’d say if he likes it and it’s good (aka it’s not cheap because it’s made of something that won’t make it last longer than 3 weeks) he’ll get it

but it just so happens that many times… the clothes he likes most are from famous brands…

AND THIS DAY!!!!!! he’s putting together one of his favorite outfits because it’s a special day

it almost hurts me just how nonchalant he’d look on the outside, making it a little hard to know exactly just how much this date meant to him (because as i said he’s not one to be very vocal about his feelings or even his thoughts)

BUT i trust that you… since you know him well…. can see past all that and you know that this is not just anything casual to him. this is special.

STILL!!!! he’d try his best to not let the blush rise to his cheeks and show, as well as to not let his voice shake when he complimented that you looked very good

ANYWAYS i think i think Scaramouche wouldn’t be one for big pda

the most he’d do where anyone can see is hold your hand or put his arm around your waist

WHICH IS WHY he’d try to be all smooth (and he would manage) reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours

he wouldn’t make eye contact because then he’s sure it’ll show on his face that he’s getting somewhat flustered, but he’d still ask if you’re okay with it, to which you said yes

the area where the arcade was is always somewhat crowded so when you two were getting there, scaramouche would tighten the grip on your hand a little bit to make sure you wouldn’t let go and you’d be pulled apart by people trying to walk past however they can

you know that if you two got serious about your relationship, he would want to be the first person to share the news with his fans

BUT since he was so popular now, you two lived in a pretty big city and now were at a popular area (+ scaramouche wouldn’t be the type to try and hide his identity because he’s never had people make a fuss when they recognise him)

you were a little worried someone would see you two and maybe take a picture and post it online and it’d go viral before he can admit it himself

because of that, you end up throwing back to him the question he had asked when he held your hand 

“are you sure this is okay?”

your question confused him because he didn’t know what you mean, so he finally looked you in the eyes and waited for you to explain further

“it’s just- what if somebody sees us and recognises you?”

he looked away from you and back at where he was going, taking a few seconds to answer before he just shrugged

“i don’t care”

you softly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you waited for him to say something, and almost missed the way he whispered

“as long as it doesn’t affect you”

for someone who seemed and actually tried to seem to self-sufficient, who appreciated his friends but was also okay on his own because he was absolutely comfortable with himself, he was actually…

more selfless than people would ever know, especially when it came to you

you two would have SO much fun in the arcade, trying every single game many times

this time though, scaramouche won in his favorite game so he lived up to his words

you two won so many tickets you literally didn’t even know what to do with them once you got the couple prizes you were interested in

you bumped into a couple fans of his, so you talked for a while

once again, you were met with suggestions of opening your own streaming channel, and even scaramouche said “i’ve told them that many times too, but they always say they think their streams won’t be fun enough”

and the fans are like “NO!! literally everyone thinks you’re super nice and fun!! of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but we’d love it!!”

one of the fans (exaggerating a little as a joke) said “i’ll be your number 1 fan i swear” and the three of you laughed, except scaramouche who just scoffed and smirked 

“i am ALREADY their number one fan. but good try” <- scaramouche in his head. say it outloud u coward.

but at the same time it was a joke scaramouche chill pretty much everyone knows you’re their number one fan……. even though you think you’re so smooth………. they just don’t say anything 

they were very nice and fun to talk to and you knew scaramouche and you didn’t really want anything else from the prizes, so you offered you two’s tickets to them

“we don’t really need these anymore so maybe you’ll have more use for them!!”

they got SO excited, the way their eyes lit up :( scaramouche is convinced you’re an angel but he’s also very happy to see how joyful his fans got because those were more than enough for the prize they really wanted-

so after that cute little interaction and having used up your energy for competition, you two leave and think of buying some ice cream or a milkshake or something to end the date nicely and to enjoy while you walk back home

the arcade was not exactly very close to where you two lived (it was far from your house, but even farther from his-) so he asked if you were okay with walking back or if you two should get an uber or something, to which you said you were okay

walking back with him meant!! a little more time you could spend with him

and he was happy you said that because he was feeling the same way and still didn’t want the day to end

we’ll see more about the kind of things he likes and dislikes if he’s released as a playing character BUT FOR NOW i really get this vibe that he’d LOVE boba tea

i even think he’d?? enjoy tea in general??? classy boy…

SO you two would end up going to get some boba 

it was very touching how, when reading the flavors they had that day, he suddenly and casually went “oh, they have your favorite” and you looked at the one he was pointing at and !!! indeed it was your favorite!!!!!!!

he remembers this kind of details very well

you take the chance to talk some more as you’re walking home

scaramouche asks about your job with voice acting and you tell him that you actually have been recording some new lines for your genshin character lately because in the next update there’ll be an event involving them

he’s looking forward to it but he teases you a little asking if it’s okay for you to spoil him with such information

but it’s okay because it’s not like he’d tell anyone, especially knowing it could get you in trouble

when he drops you off at your house, he has a hard time saying goodbye

literally you’re standing at your door and he’s in front of you, a couple steps away, looking away from you

you don’t say goodbye either, mainly because you know scaramouche is working the courage to say something, and you can also sort of guess what he wants to say

you think of saying it first, but then think that it would make scaramouche proud to be honest about his feelings and confess first

“i’ve liked you for a long time”

you can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face, unconsciously reaching a hand up to slightly cover it

“i feel the same way” you replied to him in a soft voice

he took a deep breath and exhaled it softly, finally lifting up his gaze and making eye contact with you

it was already dark outside, so you couldn’t appreciate the faint rosy blush on his cheeks well

“can i kiss you?”

your eyes widened for a second, not expecting him to ask and if anything, thinking he’d just step forward and do it

so you were a little embarrassed and caught off-guard to reply properly, so you just nodded and put your hand down as he took the last couple steps and his face was right in front of yours

he’d cup your cheek in one of his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin

you closed your eyes, and he looked at you for a second longer before he finally leaned in and closed the short distance that separated your lips

at that moment you both knew that you had been missing on so much more when you two just settled and were content with your friendship

but!! that was about to change now, so it was all worth it

after that, scaramouche would make clear that this would be the first day of your relationship!! and even if he didn’t say it with words, you could just feel his happiness!!

so!! after that, because of work you two got a little busy the next couple months so dates weren’t very frequent 

or at least, they weren’t dates like the one you first had

but still whenever you two were free he’d go over to your house, or you’d come over to his to play, stream together, or literally just spend time together doing anything

he wouldn’t let people know you two had started dating straight away (if anything, only his other streamer friends -aka you two’s friends in common- knew)

but the day he said it, he wanted you to be there

SO one day you two were streaming and you were currently reacting to one fanart of you two together

so he looked at you and you made eye contact and it was like you two spoke with your eyes like

“do we tell them now”

“let’s tell them.”

so scaramouche would clear his throat and without closing the fanart, he’d say he has something he wanted to announce

everyone was excited thinking it’d be some new project, maybe involving you

maybe some merch??? and the fanarts had reminded him of it???????

BUT THEN he straightforwardly said

“y/n and i are dating”

and everyone goes aBSOLUTELY CRAZY

amidst the chaos, you two catch a comment saying “will you unban the people who shipped you two” and you laugh

and you look at each other like “did you read that one?” “yeah”

and scaramouche is like “yeah, i guess i will have to unban some people”

and when some get unbanned they’re like “fREEDOM!!!!”

and jokingly they’re all like “APOLOGISE!!!!!!!! SAY SORRY!!!” so he just laughs and you join them being like “!!! apologise!!! you banned them for it and!! look at you now!!”

so he ends up trying to hold in another laugh as he mutters a halfassed ‘sorry’ and everyone starts commenting claps and hearts and celebrating that he apologised. now justice has been made.

the rest of that stream suddenly feels livelier and brighter!! you two are laughing a lot and so is everyone in the chat!! 

and also the new genshin event would’ve already just been released that same day so you can talk about some of your experiences with recording or what you thought of it

and scaramouche would let you play it yourself!! (he still hadn’t played it) and it was also the first time you played genshin live!! you’d show people the characters you have and everything and tell them some anecdotes

people would be SHOCKED because you!? don’t have the character you voiced!? D:

and you’re like “yeah… i pulled for them and used up all my primogems and… didn’t get them”

and your banner is back because of the event, so scaramouche won’t let this slide!!!!!!!!!! YOU WILL GET YOUR CHARACTER.

your luck is terrible compared to his so at one point you’ll literally feel bad for how much he’s spending for you to get it

but he doesn’t mind at all and everyone is having fun so!!

and once you finally get them you’re sO HAPPY and everyone in the chat is celebrating

and you think it’s over but scaramouche is like ???? what are you doing?? open the wish page again. you’re going to get them c6.

and you’re like oh my gOD PLEASE NO DON’T SPEND MORE MONEY ON ME FOR THIS

but he won’t listen and he’ll do it

so!!! he’ll always do his best to be the best boyfriend he can be for you!! so you better give him your heart!!!!

[ereawrites]

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process  the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

[bookofmirth]

I saw your recent response to an anon where you mentioned the drama that occurred the other day based around bookprofessor’s post. Obviously you don’t have to respond to this or publish it if you do not wish but I just wanted to bring up that while it is important to focus on the real life issues at hand, the OP was hypocritical in her post which is why people were getting upset. She was preaching against ableism while simultaneously flaunting her IQ and degree which is a form of ableism. She was speaking out against racism while ending her post using the racial slur “cracker” when talking about the possibly Caucasian Twitter elriels.

Obviously she had some important points but it was completely overshadowed by her participation in the hate speech and prejudice that she was speaking out against.

This does not in any way justify the nasty messages she received but on the same hand, I do not blame anyone that called her out for her hypocrisy. I hope you can understand why her post was so negatively received and how flawed it was. My hope is that one day everyone can just ignore the negativity, report those who are being racist/prejudiced in any way, and block those who are just being loud and who you don’t wish to see content from. But unfortunately I do not see that happening any time soon.

There are a few things I want to address in this because I think it's a good moment for the fandom to step back and reflect on how we treat one another, how we react to such issues, and how we behave moving forward.

First off, thanks for explaining your point of view without being antagonistic. I do think that everyone's emotional reactions to the post were valid. I do NOT think their responses, in terms of words and actions, were valid. Now before I move forward, I want to clarify that when I use the word "you", I am referring to anyone who may have had the response I am describing - not you personally, anon. Also please don’t freak out about how long this is, as a majority of it is a response to the fandom in general, not you in particular.

What was - and wasn’t - said in the original post

In this post, there were completely valid criticisms of the way that people in this fandom behave, and it wasn’t “generalizing” a certain group, it was literal, actual proof of things that had been said, by multiple people. I’m not going to get too into what Alyssa argued because her critiques of those tweets was flawless. The original post had very valid criticisms of what was happening on Twitter. Alyssa exposed the actually racist, homophobic, and imperialistic underpinnings of those tweets.

However, a lot of people are stuck on the bits before and after those critiques. @bookprofessor apologized for different aspects of her post in a few different asks. There were perhaps better ways that some of those things could have been phrased, some things that could have been left out. And she apologized. People can accept that apology or not but we can’t act like it didn’t happen. Like she didn’t reflect and learn to do better.

However, the people she was calling out have not done the same thing, and if anything, comments that focus more on Alyssa’s tone than why she wrote the post in the first place lets those people off the hook.

On cracker - Using the word "cracker" is not racist in the same way that using racial slurs against POC is. Is it prejudiced? Yes. But you cannot say that it is the same thing when that is demonstrably untrue, given centuries of oppressive history. No one has been oppressed for being white. Those are not the same. Reverse racism is not a thing because a white person punching down on POC is NOT AT ALL the same thing as a POC punching up at white people. The actions look the same, but the impact is so unequal it’s not even funny.

Racism is a systemic, institutionalized problem. It is not defined by individual actions, though those actions can either support or challenge racism. When someone calls a white person a cracker, there isn’t centuries of oppression giving power to and reinforcing that statement. That is not a “gotcha” moment.

Saying “I have x IQ” or “I have X degrees” is not ableist. I’m sorry to whoever told you it was ableist (again, not you specifically anon but people who had read the “aw shucks guys” vagueblogs about it), but it’s not. Those are facts. I have no idea what my IQ is, but I have five degrees from institutions of higher education. Me saying that is in no way ableist. 

Often, people mention those things to be elitist, yes. Sometimes, they can be used to say “hey I know more about this than you”. They can be used in a way that tries to make themselves feel superior. I suspect that this is the impression that a lot of people got of the post. However, there is a fine line between saying “hey that’s elitist” and professing anti intellectualism. Which is perhaps a side issue so I’ll let that go for now.

Another reason that people mention their degrees or qualifications is to establish their background knowledge and credibility. If I were to say “hey y’all I have two MA degrees” (which is true) I am not being ableist! It is a fact! It is factual! And I worked my ass off for those, I will be in student loan debt until I die for those, I have every right to mention them if I want to, and often I do so in order to establish my credibility, to explain the position I am coming from. And my prior knowledge of these topics is relevant when we are talking about literature since that’s what my degrees were on - literature and linguistics. That is why Alyssa mentioned her background, though she did pair it with comments about other people, for which she has apologized.

My final point about this is that I 1000% understand feeling insecure or less than because of educational attainment. I dropped out of high school. I had a complex about that for a long, long time. But I also know that if I took offense at someone else saying they had a PhD, then that offense is about me, not them. Someone else’s inferiority complex is not reason for people to pretend to be less than they are.

If those two comments are what overshadowed the bigger, more important issue for a lot of the readers of that post, then y’all allowed them to overshadow those more important issues. I am 99% sure that someone right now is reading this and thinking “but Leslie, it was the way that she said it!” Boy have I got some news for you!

How we react

This next section is not specific to this ask; instead, it is a discussion of how the fandom responded. If it were only one person who had said “but her tone” then I wouldn’t need to make this point. The fact that multiple people are exhibiting the behavior explained below is what makes this a cultural problem within the acotar fandom.

The main argument I saw on the post itself, and indeed any time I see people bring up how nasty Twitter can be, is that “it was a joke” and “that’s how stan Twitter works”.

No.

Those responses were quite useful for this post, though! So buckle up everyone, because I am going to talk about gaslighting, racism, respectability politics, and tone policing. While I understand that some people might have taken personal offense to what was said, there is a much bigger issue at stake that has nothing to do with individual feelings, and everything to do with ensuring that POC stay silenced and white supremacy is upheld. 

Back to the “but it’s a joke” thing. Thanks for gaslighting! Great example of that, person I’m not going to tag! Gaslighting is when you make someone question their experiences, when you try to make them think “wait, did I really feel that way? Is my feeling about that valid? Do I need to re-evaluate my response to this?? Am I blowing this out of proportion???” And saying “it’s just a joke” is a perfect way to do that. Did I say something accidentally sexist? It’s just a joke, nbd! Now you’re the problem, because you didn’t understand my joke and laugh!!! 

Saying “it’s a joke” or “oh they are old/young/ignorant, they will learn” is not a good response to... anything. It takes the responsibility off the people who are doing the harm, and putting it onto the people who were hurt. And in this case, anyone who read those tweets and found them harmful (which should be everyone?) is completely valid. You aren’t lesser for being angry or emotional or for seeing a problem where other people saw a joke. The people who see those things as acceptable jokes are the ones in the wrong.

This is a tactic that is used against women all the time. Any time a woman is sexually harassed at work or online, for example, and she gets upset about it, and someone chimes in with “oh they weren’t serious, can’t you take a joke?” So you can imagine what this is like for women of color.

It is a very, very common tactic for people of color to be silenced via tone policing and respectability politics. Tone policing and respectability politics are very closely related, especially in this context. The idea is that if Alyssa had just written that post in just the right way, it would have been more palatable to white people, and therefore okay to write. The idea that if she had tried to be “understanding” or “see it from their perspective” or understand that it’s “just a joke” are all ways to silence and de-legitimize any accurate, valid criticisms that were made of those tweets. It effectively re-routes the conversation away from the real issues, and to the person trying to bring them up. It’s essentially an ad hominem attack in disguise. 

We see respectability politics in media when people of color who act or dress or speak like white people are afforded more respect. Or any time that a person of color is pulled over and people say, “well if they had just done what the police officer asked...” There is a pervasive idea that if people just “act” properly, aka if you act white, then the police won’t feel antagonized and try to kill arrest you. If we are nice enough, meek enough, smile enough, etc. then we will be accepted.

When we tone police, we refuse to allow marginalized people the right to be angry. We say that "hey, we can only have this discussion if you leave emotion, which you rightfully feel, at the door, and we can only continue this discussion if you behave in a way that makes me feel comfortable." But guess what? It isn’t about you! These discussions are often highly uncomfortable. There is no nice way to tell someone they are being racist. And yet somehow, that is the ever-moving goalpost. It seems reasonable, right? “Just be civil, be nice, don’t insult each other!” And there is that. But those criteria change constantly, to the point where anyone (white) at any time can say “WHOA WHOA THIS IS MAKE ME UNCOMFORTABLE???” Then we find ourselves at zero, and suddenly the focus of attention has shifted away from the actual problem.

Before we go further, I want to say this: people have a right to be angry. They do not need to make their anger palatable or tasteful for the consumption of others (read: white people). 

We saw this last summer, and I’m not sure how the message didn’t get across. But people are rightfully angry about racism. They are angry about the murder of people of color by police, they are angry about lack of quality education, or clean water, of centuries of oppression that have led to this very moment when all of that ceases to matter because a white woman’s feelings got hurt one time. 

And that is what pisses me off so much. There is no way in this world that we could criticize tweets like those that everyone would agree with, and that everyone would “approve” of, that would be “nice” enough and yet still be impactful and make the authors of those tweets understand the gravity of what they have done. 

The least we can do is allow one another to express our anger, our outrage, because it’s highly likely that those people know exactly what the fuck they are doing, and they do not fucking care. By criticizing a woman of color for the way in which she chose to engage with this topic, we are avoiding the issue and letting the people in those tweets off the hook. 

There were many responses to that post that were positive, that agreed with Alyssa. There are a ton of people who disagree with those tweets, who find them disgusting, who understand exactly how and why they are problematic. That should be what we are talking about. Getting to the core of the argument, on that post or any about racism or other problematic behavior in fandom, requires getting past our own egos. It requires us to be able to step back, say “hm this thing is frustrating but there is a bigger picture here”. It’s not easy, and I recognize that. 

The fact that it is a common tactic though? To say “hey this hurt me personally and so I’m going to ignore any valid points you made?” That feeds directly into centuries of white supremacy because it, once again, silences POC and makes them try to play a losing game. And they will always lose, because no matter how hard they try to play the white game, the goalposts are constantly shifting. So you know what? Fuck the game, and fuck respectability politics, and fuck tone policing and “uwu be nice guys” because when it comes to things like racism and sexism, I don’t expect the people who deserve to be criticized to be nice. In fact, trying to be nice only serves to fuck POC over in the end.

Indeed, in response to that post, certain blogs have taken the opportunity to position themselves as “the nice ones” or “the ones who would never” or “uwu let’s be nice guys” while completely ignoring the fact that a woman of color was attacked for calling out racism. And yes - that was the point of her post. People getting hung up on mentions of her degree are (intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter) completely obfuscating the fact that that is not what her post was about, which was to call out disgusting behavior. idk how many words the post actually was, but essentially, people are focusing on 5% of it to the detriment of the 95% that was actually really important shit. These types of vagueblog posts about the issue fall into exactly what I am talking about - these are people who have decided to look at this issue, see how Alyssa (and anyone else who dares speak up) has approached it, and intentionally try to act like they are “better” because they can be “rational” and “kind”. Newsflash, if you don’t have something to be angry about, then being “nice” about racism isn’t that much of a flex. If it didn’t bother you, then congratulations. That doesn’t make you better than people it did bother. You just got lucky this time, and decided to use that to your advantage to look like the good guy.

I am not saying that all calls for peace are doing this. Obviously it’s what we all want. This is the worst I have seen this fandom in the 4+ years I’ve been here. But we cannot have that by ignoring the real problems and pretending that if we are all just nice to each other, then we will solve racism and sexism and all bullying in the fandom will stop. 

So combining all of this - the gaslighting, the tone policing, and what do you get? You get a fandom that refuses to actually engage critically with its own problems and take accountability for them. You get a fandom that decides that it’s easier to be distracted by this one mean comment over here than it is to engage in the fact that you know what, the culture in this fandom has actually turned incredibly disgusting and a lot of people are just okay with it. You’ve got a fandom that is using the tools of white supremacy to avoid the discussions that should actually be taking place. Maybe people don’t realize that that’s what they are doing. But if someone still thinks that after reading this post, then godspeed my friend, I hope you enjoy Twitter.

Okay so my last thing I want to say is that I didn’t come to all of this knowledge fresh from the womb. I do a lot of work, in my personal life and my professional life, to be better. So here is a list of books that I have found particularly helpful:

How to Be An Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped From the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America also by Ibram X. Kendi

White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo (side note, I was kinda meh about this one but the chapter “White Women’s Tears” is particularly helpful)

So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo

Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment by Patricia Hill Collins

I’m not going to talk specifically about Alyssa’s post anymore, but if anyone wants to continue talking about these broader issues going on in the fandom, I am game. (I really should be grading papers though, so it might take a bit.)

[onlymexsarah]

Jealousy || Jesper Fahey

Request: "hey i saw your requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something with jesper? maybe with him being jealous of everyone that flirts with the reader or something like that lol, i just want jealous jesper. you are amazing btw i love your kaz’s stories!! <3"

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader

Warning: just flirt and my english :)

A/N: Thank you sweety! I'm so happy you liked it, and I hope you are gonna like this too! I'm sorry if it's short, but I have to admit I've never written something about Jepser nor I've never thought about him in that way, and it was a funny challenge, hope you'll appreciated what I've written❤

Working for Kaz Brekker meant that your life was in danger six days on seven when the luck was on your side, but that didn't stop you from having fun.

Not only you were part of the dregs, but you also were Nina's best friend, and that meant that no woman and no man had any chance to say no to you, not when you flirted with them.

It wasn't a secret that you loved fun, and just like Nina and Jesper you loved having people's eyes on you. Kaz knew that the three of you could easily flirt your way out from any trouble if needed to.

"Green or red?" you asked Nina with two dress in your hands.

"Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Definitely green." she answered without looking, she was too focus tailoring her makeup in the mirror.

From the high of his ruthlessly, Kaz Brekker had given to all of you the free night, and you had decided to go out with your friends and have fun.

"Still try to make Jesper admitting his feelings?" asked Nina while you brushed your hair.

"Jesper is Jesper, he flirts with everyone. If he doesn't a move, then there is an entire city that is waiting to do it." you said with more confident than you felt. Jesper Fahey was the boy who had fucked up your mind since the beginning, with his witty remarks and his flirty personality, you had fell for him as a kruge fell in Kaz's pocket.

You didn't want to have to go and console yourself with strangers, but at the same time you couldn't wait Jesper forever.

Nina chuckled helping you with your hair and then walking with you downstairs. "Let see if we can find a worthy partner for you, Y/n."

They reached Matthias and Jesper outside the Slat; you had the suspect that Inej would have stayed sat on Kaz's window all night keeping him company.

Matthias had to shut Jesper's mouth when you girls arrived. He was devouring you with his eyes and the Fjerdan couldn't hold a smirk.

Damn it. Did you plan to seduce all Ketterdam that night? Because he would easily surrender at you.

When you approached he composed himself. "I can't decide if you look amazing in that dress or if you'd look better without it."

He winked and saw a little blush on your cheek, but if you were shy you hid it very well with a sly smirk. "I guess you're gonna have to see yourself."

"It's a primise then." he said before the four of you started walking around the streets of Ketterdam.

Your relationship had always been like that. Jesper couldn't deny that his comments had become more true and spontaneous, he couldn't help it, and it was hilarious for the people around you, because it was oblivious how you both felt toward each other for everyone but you.

"Love, I don't think we can afford a table here." Matthias said to Nina once they stopped in front of one of the most fancy pub in Ketterdam.

"Leave me and Y/n deal with that." she winked taking your arm with hers and bringing you at the counter where the owner, a beautiful Kaelish woman, stood.

Jesper stayed at the door with Matthias looking you and Nina flirting with the woman. He saw how her eyes were on you while you giggled and smiled at her. He couldn't hear what you were saying, but it seemed that it was working because now the woman had her arms rested on the counter, her face close to yours.

"Hard, isn't it?" asked knowingly Matthias beside him. "See the girl you like flirting with someone else and obliviously being reciprocated."

"They are Nina and Y/N, they always do...that" Jepser said waving his hands in the air to point you girls. "You are the one who find it strange."

"Maybe you are right, but it's one of the things I love about her. But still, it's not a shame admitting you are jealous...I am too."

He didn't have time to answer that you and Nina arrived with two huge smiles on. I am not jealous. "Guess who has a table as a gift of the house?"

"We do, don't we?" asked Jesper excited.

"Yes! Come." you said taking his arm and bringing him at the table with Nina and Matthias behind you.

"You have to thanks Y/n, she did all the work. The owner couldn't take off her eyes from her as she talked." said Nina smirking as Jesper shifted on his seat.

"I was lucky she liked my accent." you waved your hand in the hand as it was nothing.

Nina chuckled. "More like she wanted to hear you moaning with your accent in her bedroom."

Jesper and Matthias choked themself with their drinks while you started laughing. "At least my beautiful accent gave us a table and free drinks."

You enjoyed the night, drinking and dancing. Jesper knew that people flirted with you everyday, but he thought that someone was pranking him that night. Every time he turned around someone was talking with you, making you giggle or blush. He was getting crazy.

Couldn't they just...walk away?

He moved closer to you at some point and took you into a conversation everytime he saw someone approaching.

You noticed that something annoyed Jesper, but you couldn't figure out what. You all were having fun, even if with your disbelief he hadn't danced with anyone but you. Was he ill?

"I'll go and take two drinks, stay here dove." he said in your ear walking away and disappearing behind the crowd.

You stayed there for while when a young man of few years older than you approached smiling. "You must be the star of the night because no one is shining like you."

You tried your best to not laugh. "And you must be in the wrong place, the circus in on the other side of the city."

"Ouch, pretty and quick-witten. A letal combination." he said amused.

You shrugged. "What can I say, Ketterdam made me."

You two kept talking about silly things keeping the flirt in the air. He was the one more eager, you were just waiting Jesper but the company of a pretty man wasn't bad at all.

You were laughing at one of his joke when an arm took your waist and squeezed you. "Piss off dude, she is with me."

You watched Jesper with widened eyes as he burned the man with his eyes.

"She didn't seem so to me." said the man annoyed.

"Well sorry to disappoint you. Now go away if you don't want trouble."

"Jesper!" you didn't know what was happening. You had been talking with people all night and he hadn't said a word, so why now was different?

"It's fine, I'll go." you and Jesper remained alone and he looked like nothing happened.

"Drink?" he said offering you one glass.

You shoke your head astonished and walked away toward the door. You needed fresh air and stay as far away as possible from him.

"Y/n!" you heard his voice behind you but you didn't care. What was wrong with him? He had never had such behaviour in none of your nights out. "Y/n wait!" He followed you outside, the drinks forgotten somewhere inside. "Tell me what's wrong."

"What was that?" you asked crossing your arm in front of your chest.

"What was what?" he said confused making you rolling your eyes.

"You were...rude. You had no reason to threat him like you did."

You could see in his eyes that he didn't know what to say. He looked for an good lie but it was hard under your inquisitors eyes. "Y-you were suppose to be with me!"

"So? That never stopped you from finding other partners." you raised an eyebrow obliviously.

He gave a quick look around, as if something could help him, but when his eyes fell on you again he knew he had to tell the true otherwise he could loose you.

"I was annoyed, alright? All those people flirting with you, saints I couldn't even turn around a moment that someone had already approached you." he agitated his hands in the air while you widened your eyes.

"Why should it bother you anyway?" you asked defensive.

He looked at you astonished, as if you were asking why the water was wet. "Because I like you! Hadn't been oblivious enough these past months?!" Now your mouth was a bit hopen, speechlees. He seemed to notice what he had said after few seconds. "Oh...it would be too late saying that it's not true, wouldn't it?"

You nodded quickly. "Yes, definitely too late."

"Well, you weren't suppose to find out like this. I had planned something like a date, maybe with some candles and a good view, but I guess that in front of a pub in the Barrel sounds fine too." he tried to joke shrugging while you were still processing his words.

"You are still in time, the night is not over for that date." you sounded casual but you couldn't hold your smile while you said it.

He looked at you surprised before smiling like a child. "Let's tell Nina and Matthias we are leaving then."

You walked inside the pub, both smiling like idiots, before you felt a hand on you wrist that turned you around and a pair of soft lips on yours. Jesper was kissing you while he kept you close with his right hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, and you didn't think twice about putting your hands behind his neck.

"I have to make sure no one will flirt with you again tonight." he said seductively with a smirk a few inches from your mouth making you blush.

[in-tua-deep]

Ok I totally want to hear more about this survivors au/Delores is real! How do the siblings handle having this different version of Five? Five may be better adjusted but he still has to heard his family around like a bunch of stray cats. What happens when Hazel and Cha Cha show up? How do they find out that Vanya causes the apocalypse and how does Five handle that revelation?!

here is the thing, i think the survivors au has the potential to be HILARIOUS

no one knows how to handle a well-adjusted five, and this absolutely includes the commission

So you mentioned Hazel and Cha-Cha?? Five in this au was not nearly as absolutely feral as he is in the show bc he knows how to interact with people - he was raised by a competent adult and a weird best friend and they occasionally saw other survivors as well

please picture old Five hanging around the water cooler and chatting with Hazel

the other funny thing is that Five is competent passing - he is well adjusted emotionally but functionally?? Hazel is out there complaining about dental being cut and office parties and budgets and Five is there sipping his drink having never filed taxes in his life. Five doesn't know what the fuck a dental plan is, he was a child soldier and then lived in an apocalypse.

So please picture for me Hazel being like "okay I know corporate wants us to keep what we're being paid to ourselves but fuck that, workers unite, what do you get paid as a legend old timer?"

and five is like "you're getting paid? i get to not get tossed back into the apocalypse, I think"

"but what about expense forms? what about medical care?"

"I'm like 80% sure i'm being experimented on, actually." Five says nonchalantly, "Don't get me wrong, my idea of medical care is fucked by being a child soldier but I'm pretty sure regular people don't have electrodes attached to their heads every time they get a checkup. Could be wrong though! My ex-dad used to monitor my brainwaves while I slept so like, my idea of appropriate shit is fucked, you know?"

This is a Five who was raised by Rick, he is polite to his coworkers. If Dot asked him if he wanted to grab lunch, Five would have gone and grabbed lunch with her or politely said that he couldn't.

Cha Cha only ever talks to Five when she wants to talk shop, so they've had a couple of conversations about weapons but not much else tbh, Hazel just tends to be more personable

So when they're sent after Five, Hazel is much more hesitant to kill who he perceives as a "work friend" and also is definitely thinking about all the times Five casually revealed a way the commission was being highkey shady about him, such as the potential experimentation, no pay, working under duress etc. He's much more easily turned against the commission because he's even more primed to say "fuck the commission" than he is in canon

Hazel out here like "how did Five break his contract when Five wasn't even being paid? I kind of want to read it."

Hazel out here like "I would unionize if I didn't think the commission was anti-union enough to send literal assassins after me if I suggested it :/"

meanwhile with the siblings

Five just. talks over them a lot and makes so much sense that it's actually really hard to argue with him, and he's weirdly considerate of his family's obligations

Like Diego is like "i have to go see Patch" then Five is like "that's great I'm proud of you buddy, it would actually be really handy to have some law enforcement read into the situation if you think she's up to the task. that goes for everyone by the way! If y'all have people you trust, more bodies would be super helpful I think"

the entire family, collectively, who have like zero trusted social links: uhhhhhhhh

Diego, with this weird permission, probably?? Does? Awkwardly attempt to read Patch into the situation? Patch is, obviously, like "what the fuck, Diego" but probably goes with him to the mansion (????????) because she's concerned and then meets his fucking whacko family with their superpowers and suddenly everything is 100% more realistic

Five is just like "yes hello I'm aware I look like a child, i'm actually in my late 50s or early 60s (apocalypse time amiright) because of time travel stuff. Yes I am Five Hargreeves who went missing in like 2002 or whatever. anyway it's lovely to meet you, i'm so glad diego has someone he trusts, and considering my sibling's shifty looks when i told them to invite anyone they trusted this genuinely makes me concerned that Diego is the most socially well-adjusted of them."

"That cannot be possible." Patch says, like someone who has met Diego Hargreeves.

"You haven't met the rest." Five says sympathetically, "In our defense we were raised in isolation as child soldiers."

"That... explains so much." Is all Patch can say to that, "But you seem..."

"I'm adopted." Five waves away.

"We're ALL adopted." Diego grits out, very aggrieved by this and also not sure if he likes the fact that Patch seems friendly with Five, or at least is listening to him?

"I'm double adopted."

However! With the recruitment of Patch, herding Diego becomes like 90% easier.

Honestly the worst to herd are probably Luther and Allison? Luther because he's Number One and resents Five taking charge and also resents Five's casual dismissal of Reginald and also suspects that Five (or at least the commission) has something to do with Reginald's death?

Allison because she is torn between following Luther and helping him and helping Five but also calling Patrick and Claire at every possible moment while ALSO trying to repair her relationship with Vanya. She's flighty - she'd bail on a Five-apocalypse-assignment if Vanya mentioned being hungry or if Luther called or anything like that

Vanya likes to be included and, if asked, would probably drop as many current obligations as she can. Like she would probably cancel her teaching if Five genuinely and sincerely asked her for her help, which he does because he's 100% sure Dolores would manifest in front of him and smack him if he dared even imply someone without powers wouldn't be helpful

Vanya is like "I'm not sure if i'll be helpful - I don't have powers ):" and Patch is like "wtf are you talking about - my superpowers are Gun, Backup, and Reading Comprehension and i am like the most useful member of this team right now"

Vanya gets a confidence boost just from hanging out with Patch honestly, I think they should be friends

Klaus is thrilled to be included are you kidding?? He says he does it for money but he's just happy to be there and also as one of the most emotionally intelligent siblings he is mildly concerned about the fact that Five looks like he's about to cry and also emotes

Five also gives Klaus positive reinforcement, hugs, and Five absolutely weaponizes the I'm not mad, but I believe that you can do better and I'm going to give you more chances because I love you and fully believe that next time you'll be amazing way that Rick used on him.

I feel like Five ends up saying something along the lines of "I understand that x is really important, and we're definitely going to look into it. Is it something that needs to be addressed right now, or is it something that can wait until after April 1st? If it can wait, I can write it down here on this list so we don't forget. If it can't wait then we can figure out a time to address it and help you" a lot

Like Grace malfunctioning and potentially killing Reginald?

"We don't have to make this decision right now." Five says patiently, "Because Grace is a robot, we have some options. Living with a robot who is potentially malfunctioning and homicidal is dangerous, but Luther saying that means admitting that Reginald might have made a mistake or error with Grace's programming or upkeep. I haven't been here for a long time, but I remember Reginald being very precise. Regardless, this isn't a choice between permanently shutting her off or not. We can shut her down temporarily until we can fully address the issue. We can ask and see if there is a 'system reboot' option or some sort of system check that Grace can undergo. We can try find and hire an expert to take a look at her programming to find the issue."

Five gives this speech while like, organizing the weaponry in the house on a table very nonchalantly

Five out here making buzzer noises at his siblings arguments like "yeah no that's a false dichotomy and a strawman's argument, want to try again?"

(Look apocalypse nights were long and they had games that were literally about arguing pointless shit like ranking types of chairs or the best way to break out of a prison without powers and things could get heated)

"Who died and made you boss?" Luther demands.

"Uh, the world? Were you not listening?" Five asks, looking very purposefully confused.

It gets even MORE delightful when Five reads Rick into the situation because a) he promised and b) his siblings really have like, no connections jeeze

Rick fully believes that this is his son from the future, like Five introduced himself, but Five skipped out on a few key details. Such as being adopted.

So Rick spends a solid chunk of time just staring at Five, who looks basically nothing like him, trying to think like, who is his mother ???? if we save the world will Five stop existing? why would I name my child 'Five'? Does everyone have powers in the future? was there like... a radioactive apocalypse? would radiation give future humans superpowers? when did my life turn into a comic book? am i even allowed to ask these questions? will knowledge of the future fuck things up?

and then when Five comes back and is like "what is up everyone this is my dad Rick who will be joining us, he doesn't have any memories of me thanks to time travel but if anyone is mean to him i WILL kneecap them"

"Your DAD?"

Five does kidney punch Klaus for saying that Rick is a DILF but otherwise everyone just is like, warily looking at this Normal Dad Man in confusion because?? This is the dude who raised Five, who they watched take out like an entire commission team by himself yesterday? He looks so. Normal.

Rick is very confused and like, wonders if he's supposed to be the team mascot? But Five keeps involving him and asking his opinion and in return Rick enforces snack breaks and makes everyone sandwiches and has gentle talks with everyone

Every time Five notices someone about to blow he just lovingly makes sure that that person is alone in a room with Rick

Luther ends up crying on the sofa with Rick gently patting his back as Rick calmly states that Luther seems like he's put a lot of time and effort into his family and making his father proud and that since Reginald isn't here to say it, Rick will have to be the one to say that he's proud and that they've been dropped into a difficult and stressful situation - so soon after Reginald's death when they're still grieving! - and he's doing so well

Luther, experiencing unconditional positive paternal regard for the first time in his life: i don't know why i'm crying so much

honestly this is just a comedy of juggling the gang, having impromptu therapy sessions and discussions, investigating the apocalypse and the eye, leonard trying to meet vanya continuously and failing because she's constantly surrounding by family or rick/patch, the commission trying their best to bust up the dream team/isolate Vanya/kill or remove Five, while Hazel lives out his romcom dreams with Agnes and also says "fuck the commission"

[pepper-up-potion]

Starry nights (Remus Lupin x fem!reader)

Summary: Remus has a crush on reader but never directly admits it so reader grows impatient and fesses up before him.

Warnings: the mention of the word penis (not in a sexual way it’s a joke more specifically the penis game where u say the word lowered and lowered in a public place), nothing else, it’s just fluff

Word count: 1783 words

A/n: Once again a fic inspired by my relationship 🙈. I feel like Remus is one of those people that thinks you’re already dating and forgets to make it official (much like my bf) so I wrote a fic about that. Hope you like it :)

(Y/n) is scribbling away trying to finish her astronomy paper about Jupiter’s moons before the end of her free period. She’s gone up to the library where she expects no distractions and absolute silence.

This wish is met until she arrives at her concluding paragraph. Laughs erupt from the front entrance of the library and she suspects that is all the work she is going to get done before class. Three boys sit down in front of her while she finishes her sentence. She finally looks up at Sirius, James and Remus who have just started playing the penis game.

“Penis” James whispers.

“Penis” says Sirius with a normal register. The few students close by turn their heads and look in disapproval. To this the boys start howling with laughter.

Remus fills his lungs and gets ready to scream but she cuts him off.

“Shhhh. You’ll get us kicked out.” She whispers with her eyes narrowed.

Remus looks at her apologetically as he releases the air from his lungs. “Sorry” he mumbles, cheeks red.

“We’re bored y/n come hang out with us.” Says James with a whiny voice.

“Don’t you have work to do?” She whispers sharply. Maybe if Madam Pince sees her whispering she’ll only kick out the boys and let her stay and finish her paper.

“Ughh who caressss” groans Sirius.

“We were thinking of playing a short game of quidditch. Do you wanna come with us?” Remus whispers.

“It sounds fun but I really want to finish this paper before my next class.” His face falls when she declines but he quickly covers it with an acknowledging nod.

“nerd.” Coughs Sirius.

She sticks her tongue out at him making them chuckle.

They quickly realize she isn’t going to budge and before she knows it, they were gone. Grateful for the peace and quiet she focuses back to her paper and writes down another sentence. As she ponders on what to write next she looks up and notices a small bit of folded parchment that had not been there before the boys came to visit.

Looking around to make sure it couldn’t be someone else's, she reaches out and unfolds the paper. Maybe she will recognize one of the boys’ writing and give it back to them.

Meet me at the boathouse at 10:00 tonight. -Mooney

Her stomach fills with butterflies and a deep blush tints her cheeks. It’s been a month now they’ve been going on what feels like dates. It’s always just the two of them, the activity always more romantic than the last. Remus walks her back to her common room every time and there’s the occasional hand hold during these night excursions. Neither of them have addressed how they feel about each other. It’s like a secret they’re both trying to keep from each other. A belief that it’s better left unsaid. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she told him how she felt.

~

Remus is standing at the edge of the harbor looking out at the still water.

“Should I have brought a bathing suit? Or maybe a life jacket? How good are you with boats?” She jokes with a quizzical brow.

Remus does a fast 180 and smiles wide as soon as he sees her face.

“Do you trust me (y/n)?” He asks, smirking.

I trust you more than anyone. I’ve never felt safer than when I’m with you. It’s what she wants to say. She looks in his soft eyes. It’s like he knows the answer already. She settles with a small nod instead.

He grabs her hand and guides her to one of the small boats. He steps in first, offering his hand to help her next. With the flick of his wand the boat moves forward.

“Where are we going?” She asks, already a few guesses in mind.

“You’ll see.” He smirks.

It’s mid-October and she can already feel the cold wind stinging her cheeks as the boat moves away from the castle and into the darkness. They mostly ride in silence. There’s the occasional question and anecdote about their day but they don’t really feel it’s necessary to fill the silence.

“Were here” he says after a while.

“What do you mean we're here? There’s nothing here but water!” She says in somewhat of a panic.

“No love, look behind you.” The surname makes her stomach knot on itself and she feels her cheeks turn that familiar pink. She still can’t believe how easily he can get her all flustered.

She turns at the same time as the boat docks onto an island.

“This is bowtruckle island.” Remus says as he climbs out of the boat and gives her a hand out. “I come here when I need some time away from the boys. This is the only place they don’t know I go to. I call it my safe haven.”

She laughs but after looking at the small island, she sort of understands what he means. “There’s something sort of serene about this place. I can see why you like it.”

“Exactly.” He looks at her in absolute admiration. He knew she would see it too, it’s like she understands him perfectly, she feels what he feels.

For a moment they both stand awkwardly on the shore before Remus pulls out a pack. He walks towards the large tree that almost takes up the whole surface of the island. He pulls a blanket and two small pillows from the pack and lays them out on the ground. He looks up at (y/n) and points to one of the pillows.

“I thought we could look at the stars together.” He suggests.

She smiles and nods in agreement. She never knew Remus could be such a romantic until they started these “dates”.

Their conversations flow smoothly as they talk about the stars and classes and funny memories, getting more and more familiar with one another. They eventually fall into a comfortable silence. The rhythmic sound of the water swishing onto the shore helps her drift away into her thoughts. She wishes she could stay there forever. She feels at her best when she’s with Remus. She thinks maybe she should tell him that. Maybe she should tell him everything she’s ever thought about him. How badly she wants to kiss him. How much she wishes they could be a couple and walk around the school hand in hand to rub in everyone’s face that they are together. How she’s had a crush on him ever since he smiled and shook her hand when they first met in second year.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden warm feeling around her hand. Remus had intertwined his fingers with hers. She turns her head towards him and they lock eyes. There’s a hopeful glint in his eyes. He turns his body a bit to face her and leans forward. She closes her eyes in anticipation for their first kiss when a strong gust of wind swoops their way. It sends a strong shiver down her spine and immediately kills the moment as she curls into herself and unintentionally moves away from Remus.

“Cold?” He whispers. It’s soft but there’s a light growl indicating he’s bummed. He sits up and grabs another blanket from his bag and unfolds it.

“This should hel-“

“What is this Remus?” It comes off much harsher than she had anticipated but she hardly had time to think before she spat out the words. She thinks maybe it would have been better to say any of the things she had been thinking before he went in for a kiss but she’s quite flustered. She’s fallen for Remus years ago and her feelings grow stronger every time they see each other. She just wants more clarity on what is going on between them and she’s growing impatient about it.

“What?” A panicked look crosses his face. “It’s a blanket...?” He tries.

“No Remus, I mean this.” She sits up and gestures to her surroundings. He furrows his brows in confusion. “Well, you’ve been planning these elaborate and romantic nights where we hold hands and do couple things and I have so much fun every time and I feel like we get along really well and I really like you, like I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else because you’re so kind and caring and thoughtful and funny and you smell good and you have nice hair and you’re the only person I want to take home to meet my parents and then kiss in my room afterwards.” She rambles out in one breath. Remus chuckles with a look of pure delight on his face as (y/n) pants completely out of breath, cheeks tomato red from the blunt confession.

“Do I have to wait until I meet your parents to kiss you?” He asks. She can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“Please don’t.”

He cups her cheek before leaning forwards and softly placing his lips to hers. It starts slow and tentative but quickly develops into a desperate kiss as they make up for years of lustful temptations. Remus places a hand behind her head and one on her waist and guides her down onto the blanket as she hums softly in encouragement.

“Woooooo!”

“Finally!”

“Yeah Mooney!”

The cheers echo on the lake as Remus and (y/n) jump apart in surprise. They spot another boat on the water with three boys in it. Remus shakes his head as Sirius jumps up in excitement which sways the boat so far that Peter falls in the water. Peter pulls on the boat until it capsizes and soon there are three heads bobbing in the water.

“Merlin, I can’t with those three.” Remus shakes his head but his adoring smile says otherwise. “This is your final chance to back out. I can’t even take you to my quiet place without them interrupting.” He points his thumb towards the three who are now bickering on how to turn the boat over.

She places her finger on her chin pretending to think about it. “Hmmm, I think the benefits out weigh the consequences” She concludes.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” he says as he fills the space between stopping before their lips meet and quickly jerking back. “Just to be clear, I like you too.” He blurts with a panicked face and hands out to stop her from leaning forward.

“I’m happy we got that cleared up.” She smiles wide. “Now get back here.” She whispers as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for another kiss, the sound of the boys yelling fading out as the kiss deepens.

[creepling]

anything could happen (irl!quackity x reader)

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader

word count: 2,805

summary: the reader is roomates with karl jacobs, and he is beginning to be concerned about the reader. when karl invites the reader to hang out with him and his friends, the reader is hesitant. however, they end up having a very deep conversation with alex.

tw: swearing, use of alcohol (mild), some angst, ends with fluff!!

alternative link: ao3.

I sneaked into the apartment as best as I could. I knew if I made one faint sound, the living room light would switch on and a very judgemental Karl would be sitting on his fancy couch (that he spent way too much money on) shaking his head and tutting at me like a disapproving mother.

And behold, that's exactly what came next when I dropped my boots too hard onto the ground when slipping them off. Only the lamp next to the couch flicked on. Karl paying mind to the electricity bill, I suppose.

"Have a nice night? Or should I say, very early morning?" God, he sounded angry. It took a ton of pressure to make Karl angry, making him impatient was like putting pressure on hard metal. And yet, my lifestyle really rubbed Karl the wrong way.

"Damn, you really stayed up late for me?" I tried to joke off, plopping myself onto Karl's fancy couch. His tongue rolled along the inside of his cheek, his arms crossed, he couldn't even look me in the eye. Instead he just muttered, "No, I just finished streaming."

After a very awkward pause, Karl finally spoke.

"Why do you do it?"

"Do what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"I used to think maybe you were seeing someone, y'know like just the one person. Then I caught on it's more than just one person. You go out a drive with a different person every weekend, whether that be to hook up with them or just hang out."

"And what's up with that?" I asked, a little irritated. "Geez, Karl, I know we're different when it comes to relationships. But everyone is different— why can't you respect that about me?"

"It's not—" Karl said, a little to loudly, getting annoyed. He must've felt like I wasn't listening to him. He eventually lowered his voice and continued. "It's not the acts themselves that bother me. It's that you do these things, and you're never satisfied. You still hang out with people that you don't even like— you always come back and tell me how toxic they are. And then you hook up with people and say how it wasn't enjoyable. I just want you to be happy, and seeing you do things that make you feel unsatisfied worries me."

Karl could not have explained it better, his words perfectly summed up my feelings in the past few years. Ever since I had to get back up on my feet after hard times, being able to live as a roommate with Karl; have a roof over my head. Sometimes I just put myself in uncomfortable situations because I feel like I am not good enough.

"I understand, Karl. I honestly do. But— it's all I have. I have no one else to depend on." My eyes, like Karl's moments before, could not bare to look at him.

"You have me, (Y/N). You can hang out with me and my friends." At this moment, Karl had a tint of a smile on his face and he placed his hand on my drooped shoulder.

I could not contain the scoff that left my lips. "Me and your friends are so different from each other. I barely know anything about video games or Minecraft or streaming. I've talked to your friends before and I never know what to say to them."

"There's more to us than just our jobs, (Y/N)" Karl said, a small chuckle leaving his lips. "And what the hell are you talking about! My friends think you're so cool and always ask about you! I mean, I remember you and Alex—"

"I barely know Alex! We literally shared one laugh together because I knew the meme he referenced." I said, a smile plastered on my dumb face. Maybe I was smiling because deep down, I was beginning to remember how fun Karl's friends were. To be honest, I always felt a little jealous when I would hear Karl and his friends belly laugh on a stream. These dumb-asses were literally being paid to hang out with each other. Meanwhile, I busted my ass for a minimum wage and hung out with people that never see me as a priority. Maybe one day Karl's rich Youtube friend would give me money to do some stupid challenge.

"I'm not gonna lie, out of all my friends, Alex is the one who asks about you the most. At first he would do it to tease me— making sex jokes about you and us. But when he eventually met you, he asked genuine questions about you. Like the other day, he asked me out of the blew about if you went to college or worked a job."

I definitely did not admit it to Karl, but I actually found that flattering. Yeah, maybe I thought Alex was a little too loud on Karl's streams and I would have to cover my head with a pillow to try sleep at night. However, when I met him for that short moment when Karl's friends came to the house, he was genuinely a very funny guy. I remembered we were the same age, he was Mexican and studying law. If he remembered anything about me, I have no idea.

When I couldn't hide my smile of flattery, Karl looked at me and smiled back. He got up from the couch, about to turn off the light, but stopped himself and turned back. "Hey, instead of going out with your shitty friends next weekend, you should stay here. I'm inviting some of my friends to hang out. I think it would be cool if you joined us." Karl said without hesitation, leaving his words as an open thought.

"I'll think about it." Was all I could say, which was enough to make Karl smile, then wish me a goodnight. When I got into my room and crashed onto the bed, I left the invitation in my mind to think about until the next week.

It was finally the weekend again, after a long weekday of working I sat at my desk after putting on some casual clothes. Sometimes, I just liked to get ready in case last minute plans popped up. I still had the idea of hanging out with Karl and his friends in my mind. Yet, I began to feel nervous. I do not know why, but being surrounded by new faces always made me tense. I count myself as a pretty confident person, but there was something about Karl's friends that intimidated me. Maybe it was their crude humour or 'fame' status that made me feel iffy. Either way, I sat there, looking at my wall blankly, hearing the faint noises of Karl arranging the living room for his friends arriving. As a fumbled with by sleeves and chilled out to music, my bedroom door flew open and a really happy Karl stood there.

"So? Are you joining us tonight?" He asked, anticipating a positive response.

"I don't know, Karl." I lightly groaned, the nerves still having a hold on me.

"C'mon, (Y/N). It's nothing too big. Some of the guys are having beers, which I know you enjoy." Karl winked playfully.

I barked out a laugh when I heard his words. "You always say I have an alcohol problem!"

"Exactly! Let your alcoholism be the reason you hang out with us!" Karl was trying to drag me out the room at this point.

"Piss off!" I laughed, feebly slapping Karl.

"Please . . . They really want to meet you again!" Karl dragged me into the living room. Then, a sharp knock came from the door. "Too late! They're already here!"

Admittedly, it was awkward at first. The group immediately wanted to play video games, which I guessed was going to happen. I respectively sat on the couch and watched them play as if I was just watching a movie. I smiled throughout, watching them bicker and yell at each other through competitive spirit. The energy was chaotic, but enjoyable. It was a different environment I was use to, it was more relaxed, but still had the fun aspects I chase for. For the first time in a while, I felt like I could act like myself; the chill version of me. I was not afraid of being judged or talked down to. The nerves that consumed me hours before slipped away effortlessly.

The few bottles of beer I had throughout the night had gotten to my head eventually, my heavy eyes were opening and closing as I snuggled up to the edge of the couch. I checked my phone now and then, scrolling through social media. By this point, some of the group had fallen asleep from drunkenness, or went home. The string of people left were beginning to wind down; Karl offered spare pillows and blankets for the ones who wanted to crash. From the silence I assumed everyone, even Karl himself, were drifting off to sleep. Until I heard a voice acknowledge me.

"Not going to sleep?"

It was Alex. I realized once I looked up, seeing he was exiting the kitchen with another drink, with one beer in his other hand that he was beckoning to me. I took it, mumbling a thanks, my eyes trailing towards him as he took a seat next to me.

"I'm used to staying up late at the weekends, so my body clock is all over the place." I confessed, smirking down at my beer bottle before taking a light sip.

"At least you aren't a light-weight like most of these idiots." Alex joked, looking around the room at his friends. "I suspected we would play more games, but I think people couldn't hack anymore. It's a shame though, I felt like we didn't include you too much."

It was considerate for Alex to say that, but I chuckled dismissively. "I didn't feel left out, don't worry. I enjoyed the company. I needed a chill night like this one."

Alex smiled at that, and immediately looked down when he did, but it was still contagious enough to make me smile. For a short moment I took in his appearance. He hadn't changed much from the last time I saw him. Still wore a beanie that took up 90% of his head, no matter the weather.

"I don't know if Karl mentioned but—" Alex began, suddenly becoming bashful. "I bought the beers for you, as a kind of present. I remembered you drinking them the last time we were over."

"Oh my God— Karl didn't say to me . . ." I said. "That's so thoughtful of you, thank you so much."

He really did that? Considering we were just acquaintances, I did not expect that. I had drank them throughout the next, since they were my favourite. He remembered something so miniscule about me. I then added, "You didn't have to do that."

Alex was biting the bottom half of his lip before he said, "I mean— I wanted to get you a little something. We all did— really. We always feel bad coming over here and never having the time to get to know you. This is your house just as much it is Karl's."

I scoffed after taking a swig of my drink. "It's more Karl's house than mine. He's the one that lives in it. I'm always working or out hanging out with people. The only time I'm ever here is when I'm sleeping or eating. In fact, this is the first night in I have had in months."

"What do you do then if you're barely in the house?" Alex asked.

I became a little tense. Remembering Karl's chat last week made me realise how useless my life was. Karl was right, the things I do and the people I hang out with do not benefit me in a positive way. My 'friends' haven't even texted me today to ask why I'm not hanging out with them. I truly never had anyone that cared for me. I sure haven't had anyone do something as small as buying me my favourite beers. I shook my head and muttered, "Nothing interesting . . ."

My face must have exposed my sadness, as Alex had a look of concern on his face. To ease the tension, I looked over to him and twitched a smile. However, I don't think it convinced him. God, I hate worrying people.

"I know we barely know each other yet. But— If there's something on your mind, you can always talk to me about it."

Normally I dread hearing words like that, but looking at Alex and how calm he seemed to be around me convinced me I could trust him in that moment. Before I realized, I was spilling my train of thought all over the atmosphere. I told Alex about my 'friends'; how I feel like they never give a shit about me. I confessed that I am unhappy with my life, that I feel like I am wasting my time and potential. I admitted my distain for making Karl worried about my wellbeing every time I came back to the apartment. Lastly, I affirmed that tonight was the first time I felt happy among another's company in a very long time. How I felt content, knowing no one would judge me or think I was taking up space. I thanked him again and again, knowing that his act of service was little to him, but absolutely gigantic to me.

"What you and your friends did tonight, no one has ever done to me in a long time. It was so miniscule, I know, but it's more than I have ever experienced. For once, the kindness felt genuine. Is it wrong to think like that?" My eyes looked at Alex, desperate for reassurance.

"Absolutely not, (Y/N)." Alex shook his head. "From what you have told me, you have every right to feel the way you're feeling. Not gonna lie— your friends sound like dicks."

"They are dicks!" I laughed out, wiping the loose tears from my eyes. "And I am sick of being associated with them! From here on out, they are not my friends anymore." I turned my whole body to face Alex at this point, my sudden movement alerting his attention. "If you don't mind, can I count you, Karl— everyone else— as my new friends?"

The smile that emerged from Alex's face warmed my chest. "You don't need to ask, (Y/N)" He said, "We already counted you as our friend."

The happiness that swelled in my chest consumed me in that moment, and it stimulated me to enrobe Alex into a hug. His body was tense from my sudden touch, yet he relaxed easily into my body and his arms moulded into my touch. The fragrance clinging to his sweater engulfed my nose, making me nuzzle deeper into his shoulder. Alex chuckled and the vibrations tickled me, making me scoff out a laugh.

We met each other's gaze as we pulled away from the embrace; analysing the tint of blush on his cheeks, tracing to the bridge of his nose. He ruffled the hair on top of my head, making me laugh and nudge him playfully. Our instant smiles welcoming the space between us.

"So . . . got anymore tired yet?" Alex asked, raising a brow.

I shook my head and slowly looked around the room. Clocking the console lying on the coffee table, I grabbed it and my fingers began to awkwardly fumble with the joystick.

"First step of becoming friends, should be you teaching me how to be a pro-gamer." I joked, giving him a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes, cringing as he grabbed the other remote. "It's not for the faint hearted," He joked along, "I think you'll get the hang of it, though."

For the rest of the night, into the early morning, we played games. We laughed our asses off, had mini arguments; stirring some of the others out of their slumber when Alex couldn't contain the volume of his voice.

Anything could happen, I realized. If I seek positivity, I will eventually find it. Thankfully, I was able to admit — I discovered it already.

TAGLIST / if you would like to join my taglist, click here !