#Anyway I’m not biased (lying)

[pynkhues]

Congrats on the certified 'you piss on the poor' tumblr moment, Sophie

Hahah, look, I’ve had plenty of them, but it’s definitely my first in this fandom. Thank you though.

[telephoniii]

HEARTSHAPED CHOCOLATES

☆彡 in which you gift jamil a valentine and things get complicated

jamil viper x gn!reader

word counter: 3.1K

warnings: reader is prefect, possible ooc, miscommunication (kinda), descriptions of servitude

a/n: i wrote this at 2AM but i think it's really cute. i’m definitely biased because jamil is my favorite and i do NOT have any valentines this year whatsoever 😭

i hope you enjoy!! :>

Jamil wiped down the counter with a frustrated sigh. Kalim had, once again, gone behind his word and threw a last-minute party. One that Jamil had to do a majority of the work for. And now here he was, cleaning up after the incompetent boy.

Nothing he wasn't used to, but upsetting nonetheless. Though, he supposed that he’d be lying to himself if he claimed it was the only reason he felt bitter. His eyes flickered toward a calendar that hung on the kitchen wall of Scarabia.

Tomorrow, it’d officially be Valentine's Day.

Now, most NRC students were as single as could be for a variety of reasons— being a celebrity, focusing on grades, etc. Jamil fell under the category of being too busy. So many, much more important matters were always fighting for his attention. And a lot of them are related to Kalim in some way or form.

Being a destined servant to the Al Asim household wasn't an ideal situation. Plain and simple. Especially when it came to romantic relationships.

In middle school, young Jamil had a few girls he was interested in. However, all hopes of those crushes blooming into anything more died when they witnessed Jamil and his family bowing down to Kalim.

It's difficult to explain his role to his peers. Of course, the older he got the easier it became. But for most of his childhood, it was extremely embarrassing to have to say that he was to devote his life to serving the Al Asim family forever.

It was humiliating, giving leeway for others his age to look down on him. Now it wasn't just Kalim who he was lesser than. It was everyone. And it was hardly fair. Jamil was smarter than all of them combined.

He caught on to things quickly and was easily adaptable. When learning magic, his movement was calculated and precise. Yet, because of his last name, the respect he deserved was never given… Needless to say, he never pursued any more crushes.

By the time he was enrolled in NRC, romance no longer seemed plausible for his lifestyle. He wouldn't be able to devote so much time to another person other than Kalim anyway. That man-child can barely do anything on his own to save his life.

Jamil was convinced he’d spend the rest of his youth alone, only really finding a potential partner once he was free from the chains of servitude.

…And then you showed up at NRC.

You and your stupid soft eyes; that genuine empathy you carried on your sleeve. It's idiotic, really. You were bound to get taken advantage of in a school like this. Against his better judgment, Jamil felt drawn to you.

Despite being magicless and from a whole other world, you seemed to understand and empathize with his struggles better than those he had grown up with. And you weren't just all bark, no bite. You helped out a lot.

Many can just say that they feel sorry for Jamil, yet stand idly by as he served Kalim. You, however, saw him through his overblot. Instead of moving on, you forced him to communicate with Kalim about how he was feeling. It would've been so easy to fall back into the status quo, yet you stayed and improved his life for the better.

He’ll never quite get how one person could leave such a big impact.

You eased his worries about servitude. Being around you was naturally calming. It didn't feel like he had to babysit when he spent time with you. In fact, he felt as though he was learning new things— about both himself and others— every day with you.

The feeling scared him to his soul.

It was terrifying to be this addicted to another person’s presence. He wasn't used to having someone to look forward to: someone he wanted to be around all the time.

Jamil didn't know whether or not to pursue you. The last thing he wanted was to drag you into more of his messes… however, you seemed to frequently do that yourself, choosing to be involved for his sake. He was truly infatuated.

Despite it all, he refused to make a move.

You weren't from this world and all too soon he was sure you’d find a way back to where you were meant to be. It’d be selfish of him to pursue you, trapping you in a place you didn't belong. He knows the feeling of being trapped all too well after all.

There were no telltale signs you’d be interested in him back anyway. You were friendly with all and close to many. Who’s to say one of those fancy princes or endearingly dumb freshmen isn’t the one who’s captured your heart?

He purposely doesn't stand out, unlike some other students. Jamil assumed this put him at a natural disadvantage.

Assumed being the keyword.

Of course you, always breaking his expectations, had to crumble his thoughts by gifting him chocolates.

~

“Jamil?”

His eyes moved from his textbook to you in a second. He raised a brow as he watched you stare at him with an unrecognizable glint in your eyes. “Did you need help with something, Prefect?”

Those words made you perk up, grounding you back in reality. “No! No. I’m fine. Just…”

Clearing your throat, you put down your pencil. The homework in front of you was long forgotten as you focused your attention mainly on Jamil— much to his confusion.

“Do… Do you have any plans for Valentine's Day?” You cautiously asked, looking at him intently.

He furrowed his brows at the question, thinking it over. “Kalim will most definitely want to throw a party for the occasion. I'll be in charge of the decorations, cooking, and— well, everything as per usual.”

Jamil answered truthfully, not seeing much of a reason not to. Yet, he felt like he answered wrong as his eyes met your deflated gaze.

“Got it… Yeah, that makes sense…”

Before he could invite you to the party— you’re one of the only people he’d happily cook for— you messily started scouring through your bag.

He observed you curiously, mentally noting that he should help you clean out your backpack sometime. I mean, the amount of loose papers you have in there is absurd—

“Here.”

His mind goes quiet as you pull out a small, heart-shaped box and slide it toward him. Jamil looks at you like you are crazy, making you chuckle.

“I was hoping to give it to you on Valentine's Day, if you're busy then, I’d rather do it now and save you the trouble.” How thoughtful of you… His shock was transparent as he struggled to form words.

You didn't know whether or not to take that positively or negatively.

“Uhh—” It was awkward, the air was tense as you swiftly stood up. You flashed him a nervous smile. “I should go check up on Grim… Good seeing you?”

Jamil had never felt more scatterbrained. So many thoughts racing at once. Yet so little came out of his mouth.

“Good seeing you too, Prefect.”

~

He never did invite you, did he?

Jamil sighs at his ridiculousness. In the back of his mind, he tried to justify it.

The party wouldn't be ideal for you to come to anyway, he’d be working the majority of the time. He doubts you’d enjoy yourself. It might be awkward for you to even come after that exchange.

However, deep down, he knew he should've said something. Anything. Instead, he just let you leave with unsure thoughts.

Jamil didn't want to leave this be. He wanted to make it right. But with so little time, he was stuck.

~

Valentines arrived unreasonably fast, causing him to frown. The students of Scarabia could sense something was wrong, but no one had the guts. Well, no one except…

“Jamil? Are you mad?” Kalim innocently asked.

Although you made Jamil talk out a lot of his issues with Kalim, the white-haired boy’s voice still irked him to his soul.

“No. What makes you say that?” The Viper responded, keeping his tone neutral and calm.

Nonetheless, Kalim squinted at him with a pout.

“Is this about the Prefect?”

He nearly choked on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you guys like each other, right? Did you fight over something? Aww, I’m sorry if an argument broke out right before Valentine's.”

Jamil shook his head with an annoyed scoff, giving Kalim an unamused look.

“No, what—? Rewind. What makes you think we like each other?”

Kalim tilted his head like a lost puppy. It only served to frustrate Jamil further.

“Is it not obvious? You’re way happier around them than anyone else!”

Not that anyone pointed it out, but Jamil would undoubtedly deny the way his cheeks heated up at that statement.

“We’re not seeing each other romantically. Neither do we think of one another that way…”

He regretted letting his sentence trail and thinking aloud. Whenever it came to you, he was much less organized than he liked.

“…Well, sort of.” Although he merely mumbled these three words, that was all it took for Kalim to spring up ecstatically.

“Oh! So you like them but you haven't confessed? You can do it at today's party! I’ll invite them right now!” “What! No— Kalim, slow down!”

Jamil had to physically grab the other hot by his shoulders to keep him from bouncing away.

“I'm not ‘confessing’ at this party today, or any time soon.”

That lost puppy looked returned to Kalim’s face. Although he had seen it a few minutes ago, it still pissed him off all the same.

“Why not?”

Because he didn't know how to; plain and simple. Jamil for sure didn't want to have his ‘confession’ be too big. He’d hate for himself to come off as ingenuine to you.

Not to mention, Kalim and his antics have more or less ruined any big, dramatic gestures for him. Jamil can't help but find them corny and tacky now.

However, he didn't want to do something too small. A simple note won’t cut it for him. You deserve more. What exactly that entailed, he didn't know.

“Because I don’t want to.” Jamil unenthusiastically answered. He cut off Kalim before he could speak up. “No more questions.”

Not wanting to entertain this conversation any longer, Jamil walked away. Right. He had other, more pressing matters to worry about. Party preparations.

Food, decorations, music, lighting…

Damn it, why won’t you leave his mind?

~

The party, thankfully, went smoothly. Guests were enjoying themselves, there was enough food for everyone, and Kalim was too distracted by a few people to bother him. Letting out a relieved sigh, Jamil leaned against the wall behind him. His eyes wandered around as he started people-watching.

It was important to stay alert when it came to the people at these parties. He had to make sure no one had harmful intentions towards the young Al Asim. Though, as he should've expected, there were many couples here tonight.

Seems like a lot of Scarabian students brought their off-campus lovers here. Jamil can only hope Crowley doesn't chastise them too harshly for doing so.

He perks up as a slow song plays over the party. The lights are adjusted to dim and soon enough, practically everyone was on the dance floor. Couples, friends, strangers, talking stages— you name it.

It’s no surprise Jamil seemed drawn to the dance aspect of this part of the night. Even if he tried to hide it at times, his passion for the art of dancing always had its way of shining through. He glanced through the crowd to see if there was anyone without a partner.

Thankfully for him, it wasn't too hard to spot someone. These types of parties were always bound to have a few wallflowers. As he made his way through the crowd toward the one he had his eye on, he couldn't help but hear a couple of voices over the music.

“Ace, you little—!” That was all Jamil could make out before he felt a person suddenly collide with him. It didn't hurt or anything, and Jamil had enough sense to gauge it was most likely a mistake—

“Uh, hi.”

He didn't expect to turn around and be met with the sight of you. An embarrassed look sat upon your face as you fidgeted with the ends of your clothes.

“Hey.” Jamil curtly replied.

You gave him that stupid little smile of yours that made his heart race. A hopeful hum left your lips.

“Are you busy?”

He couldn't help but chuckle in response, giving his genuine answer.

“Nope.” He stuck his hand out, pretending that his mind wasn't going fuzzy from being in your presence. “May I have this dance?”

He felt you place your hand on top of his.

“Of course.”

With your permission, he let one hand fall to your waist as he gently guided you in a waltz-like manner. He was more experienced than you, precisely moving as the two of you dance.

You couldn't help but feel endeared. Jamil was pretty from close up. Unfortunately— or fortunately— he caught you staring. He gave you an amused look in response.

However, he didn't expect you to abruptly frown and glance away.

‘You couldn't get your hopes up,’ Your mind reminded you, recalling his reaction to your gift. It was for the better you don't get too attached.

Jamil seemed disheartened by the disconnect. His hand on your waist lightly tightened. Shortly after, a mischievous grin found its way on his face.

Suddenly, Jamil’s movement quickened. You gave him a confused raise of the brow.

“Jamil—?”

He doesn't give you time to finish your thought as he spins you, swiftly catching you in his arms afterward. Taken by surprise, you can’t help the laugh that escapes you.

You've never seen Jamil look more proud of himself as he gave you that smug little smile of his. He barely gave you time to react before he was moving the two of you again.

What you didn't expect was for him to dip you so, so low. Instinctively, you squealed. Your arms clung onto him for dear life.

“Jamil—!”

He let out a laugh at your reaction. “What? It's not like I’m going to drop you or anything.”

Your grip tightened after hearing those words. “Great sevens— you better not drop me!”

He playfully rolled his eyes. Jamil leaned in closer, his voice taking a lower tone as he whispered, “You trust me, Prefect, don’t you?”

You didn't respond to that, instead letting your small glance to the side paired with an embarrassed expression speak for itself.

In the next few steps, he taught you some more advanced footwork. He couldn't help but admire the way you’d smile as you caught onto it quickly. Jamil then spun you once more, this time it was less abrupt.

Prepared, you were able to smoothly go along with it. The boy let out an impressed hum, giving you a satisfied look. His eyes practically told you what he had planned next. Another dip.

The dip was more nerve-wracking than the spin. However, Jamil didn't intend to dip you as low as he did before— thankfully.

Your hold on him still tightened like it did before as he dipped you. Unlike before, Jamil let the pose and moment linger.

You’d gaze up at him, admiring the determined glint in his eyes. The way his hair naturally fell, framing his face, was just the cherry on top.

Oh, and how could you forget those breathtaking lips of his...

His thoughts were eerily similar to yours, taking in your features before letting his eyes roam over your lips. Jamil leaned closer, bringing his face mere inches from yours.

You swung your arms around his neck, making it easier for him to get closer… and closer… and…

Just as the two of you closed your eyes, about to connect, you hear the slow music turn to an upbeat, party song. Next thing you know, you felt your body swiftly being pulled up.

One moment, you and Jamil were so close, the next he was acting as though you were toxic. His hands left your hips as he cleared his throat.

It looked like he was planning on saying something before a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

“Jamil! Come dance with me!” The two of you both heard the young Al Asim shout.

You frowned. Right. He’s busy tonight with duties and whatnot. Although you felt disappointed, you gave him a tired smile and nod.

Jamil’s brows were furrowed, his eyes flickering between you and the direction Kalim’s voice came from.

Tonight seemed full of surprises as Jamil’d hand shoots out to your forearm and hurriedly guided you outside in the opposite direction of Kalim.

You were in shock as he pulled you outside, shutting the door behind him with a sigh.

“…You’re not gonna—?” “If anyone asks, you were nauseous from dancing and went outside with me for fresh air.”

Jamil was dead serious as he spoke, looking at you for confirmation. You nodded your head.

“Uh, got it.”

Silence soon filled the atmosphere between the two of you, the only sound being from the night’s wind. It was oddly tense. You were the first one to break the quiet.

“I’m sorry.” Jamil’s gaze immediately snapped up to yours, narrowing in confusion.

“Sorry?” He repeated, looking for clarification.

You fidgeted with the ends of your clothes. “Sorry for the chocolates. That was probably uncomfortable for you since that kinda gift is usually reserved for couples and all…”

Jamil’s expression softened the more you talked.

“Don’t be. It was a lovely gift.” His hands slowly make their way to yours, gently holding you.

“I reacted the way I did because…” Jamil sucked in a hesitant breath. “…Well, you’ve made me feel things. Feelings that I thought I was incapable of feeling.”

He carefully pulled you closer to him, allowing you to back away if you wanted to. You didn't. You just stared back into his gaze as he continued.

“Around you, I feel unburdened by my responsibilities. I feel… alive.” If you maneuvered your hand right, you could feel his pulse practically beating out of his body.

“I adore you like no other. When I received those chocolates, my mind melted. You… you turn me into such a mess.” He lightly scoffed with a small shake of the head. You can't help but chuckle.

“Nonetheless,” He gave your hands a gentle squeeze. You squeezed back.

“I’d never wish this feeling away. Never in a million years.”

Jamil’s hands momentarily left yours as he fiddled with his jacket. He was looking for something…?

“Although it’s long overdue,”

After a few moments, Jamil pulls out a small, red rose. You recognize it as a part of the decor from the party. He slips it into your hand effortlessly, his eyes staying on yours.

“Will you be my Valentine?”

[the-travelling-witch]

young god! shouto, with a burning hatred for his father, lord of the underworld. laurels split in colour neatly, like the rest of him, and now that he’s learnt the truth about his mother, he finally understands why. the prince knows his father won’t just let him leave the underworld, the scar covering his face a grim reminder of when he first tried. but, really, he should have known it would only make shouto try harder to reach the surface, and thereby his mother.

leaving alternating footprints of fire and ice behind him, he climbs through tartarus, asphodel and elysium, fighting vanquished foes and slain heroes alike. but he’s no longer alone, for his quest has reached the eyes and ears of olympus.

on his journey he receives the blessings of various gods, whether it’s his father’s bright-smiling brother, excitedly talking about how his own son can’t wait to meet him, or a radiantly golden god carried by crimson wings, who barely slows down long enough to muster the prince like he’s looking through him at someone else.

shouto half expects, half dreads to find a peek of white or a flash of cerulean eyes among the shades that cross his path. even by the time he comes to face his father one last time, the young god is not sure if it’s a good thing he saw no such shade at all…

hear me out… bnha x hades

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ pt. 7 ]

Authors Note: all I can say is that I’m sorry? Life gets busy and hard sometimes but you’ve all been very patient and I’m super grateful. Also — we get some of Rio’s POV in this!

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART EIGHT

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Familiar Bond has saved your life and your mental status — but Rio knows it’s only a matter of time before the magic that comes with creating such a Bond with you starts manifesting itself. Meanwhile, in the future, Wanda Maximoff once again crashes through the perfectly curated reality Rio has attempted to keep you entrapped in.

Content Warnings: Reminder that this story is dark in nature so please remember that; otherwise here’s this chapters’ warnings: period typical fifties views, internalized homophobia [ brief, worked through ], fluff and smut, knee grinding [ r!receiving ], fingering [ r!receiving ], slight dumbification [ r!receiving ], subspace-ish, praise kink [ r!receiving ], manipulation [ Rio ], misuse of magical abilities [ Rio ], Stockholm Syndrome, Fluffy!Rio, there is some Agatha bashing HOWEVER it comes from a biased, filtered POV wherein R doesn't have Agatha's side of the events of AAA and WV, pregnancy and symptoms that come with it, Wanda planning Wanda-like-shit

Word Count: ~4.8k

1955

A featherlight caress surrounded you as the whisper-quiet lifting of your nightshirt drifted along your skin followed by lips pressing along the skin of your spine.

You shifted on the mattress with each new sensation tugging you from pleasant sleep. The lips continued to leave carefully placed marks along your lower back and as your awareness returned, you felt a weight down on your hips.

“Hmm, I know you’re awake,” the familiar, low voice husked into your skin, teeth drawing out sensitive shivers that exposed you even more.

You breathed into the pillow as you turned your head so you could cast a look backward, opening bleary eyes to look at your lover.

Rio was a vision when she was in your shared bed like this — where neither of you had to pretend to be something else and wear skins of carefully crafted lies for society in order to live.

Here, in this moment, as the early pink and orange light spilled through the curtains and casted Rio in a bright glow, she was so unfairly ethereal.

Her hands moved down the shape of your body, placing extra attention at certain points she knew got noises she liked from you and working her lips back up your spine until you felt her warm breath against your ear and her body lay flat against your back.

“So sleepy, my Angel is,” Rio murmurs. Delicate kisses follow the statement behind the shell of your ear — a spot she found months ago when you’d explored your body with her in ways you never got to with your husband.

Sex was an activity you were starting to become more and more open about the longer you remained with Rio — who remained ever-so patient with you as you took time to process your emotions and the way she made you feel. Especially after sex occurred.

Rio had worked hard to undo the mess that you’d become in regard to sexual activity; lying down, taking it, and assuming your need for the pleasure was no longer necessary.

The guilt that engulfed you after your first time with Rio — after every time you continued to do it — started appearing less and less. After your head injury, you stopped caring all together.

Society was not ready for this tender, forbidden thing you and Rio shared. But that was fine with you — you didn’t think you could share this part of her with anyone else anyways.

Fingers danced around the curve of your ass teasingly, the featherlight touches grabbing your focus and forcefully returning it to your lover.

“Rio,” you hummed, tilting your body slightly under her. She let you readjust, her hips lifting until you were on your back. She settled back down atop you, hips notched against yours, one knee dipping into the mattress while the other found home between your lifted legs.

“Hi,” she greeted, leaning down for a kiss that you eagerly returned. “Sorry for waking you, but I simply couldn’t help myself. I needed to have you.”

The words spoken so aloud and without shame sent a rush of heat through your core. You resisted the urge to clench your legs together — her knee would block the movement, thus catching onto your arousal if she hasn’t already.

You lifted a hand to run your fingers along her left arm, which held her up with her elbow buried in the mattress close to your head.

“So soon, already?” you asked, faking disinterest. “You just had me. Last night.”

Rio’s eyes were sharp and her lips twitched at the corners; whether she picked up on the beginning of your teasing or saw your response as a challenge was unclear. Either way you were getting a reaction you sought out.

“I want you again,” she purred, leaning down to place well-aimed kisses along the hollow points of your throat. “As many times as I can before something absolutely ridiculous forces us out of this bed.”

Your eyes flutter and your hand drifts up from her arm to tangle in the strands of her dark hair, encouraging her to stay where she was.

“Mm . . .” Not a reply, but it was hard to produce anything of substance when she nibbled so sweetly and began to run a hand up and down your thigh.

“Please?” A kiss, a squeeze on your ankle as she drew it along her waist and pushes herself closer against you — into you — with nowhere left to go. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

You pretend to contemplate her request even when you knew your answer, soaking in the increasingly needy kisses along your skin, hot breath sinking into every pore and claiming you.

The smallest twitch was caught under her worship and her lips curved at the junction between your collarbone and throat.

“Please, please, please,” she continued in a husky whisper with teeth dragging along your skin. A shudder rippled through you, cracking apart your play and easily exposing your desire.

Her need for you was overwhelming and still so shocking, how she begged for you even as she claimed you like you were her most prized possession sent you into a headspace you believed didn’t exist.

A sharper nip, closer to your pulse. “Please.”

You had nothing left to play — no faking outs for teasing, no indifference. All you could give her now was your desperation.

A breathy “yes” was all she needed in the end. Your tongue was heavy and she had cleverly led you into that foggy state of arousal wherein she knew that your eventual amusement in teasing Rio would break and give way to your newfound pleasure she gave.

The pharmacist gave you one last squeeze along your ankle, eyes locked on yours. There was no smug triumph in them, nothing indicating that she won a battle. Only pure need for something only you could provide her.

You kept your leg where she had wrapped it around her waist while watching her shift above you slightly, adjusting her position and sliding her fingers down until they found you exactly as she hoped you’d be: soaking wet.

“God,” she breathed, an expression that could have been awe crossing her features. They brushed along the outside of your entrance just so slightly that your hips jerked on instinct.

You bit the inside of your cheek when your clit hit her knee, breathing in sharply and growing still. But Rio saw it: the way you reacted and the color that grew aggressively more red along your cheeks as you burned.

She watched you intently and then moved just so — digging her knee into your bundle of nerves as if seeking a reaction.

“Rio,” you whined, head dropping briefly backwards at the shudder you felt course down your spine. “Rio’mere.”

“What is it, my sweet angel?” your lover crooned, leaning down to meet you halfway. You lifted your head and scratched your fingers through her hair, tugging, asking, begging.

She allowed it. She kissed you with passion like you see in movies, but you don’t think those could ever compare to the real thing. This was . . . This was deeper than just two lovers struck in the throes of emotion.

What this was — it was deeply more human than movies could ever hope to replicate especially with the way Rio claimed how taboo romance in society was.

Or illegal, in your case. You weren’t sure you’d ever see romance like yours and Rio’s in the theater. It was something you barely understood until Rio — you doubted the rest of the world would understand unless they were in your place.

“Ngh—“ an unintentional yelp rose from you as Rio started rocking her knee against you deeper, breaking the kiss and leaving the both of you breathing heavily against one another.

Her gaze on you was demanding and fierce as her hand, barely slick from where she touched you, danced upward from your pussy and brushed along your cheekbones.

“Am I somewhere sensitive?” Rio asked in a way that both irritated and aroused you. She had her knee pressed to your cunt, grinding it into you with achingly intentional precision.

You tried to say something, attempted to respond, but then her knee moved upward and jabbed with just slightly more pressure indicated that she seemed to exactly know what would empty your brain.

Garbled nonsense is your articulated reply to her, trying to keep your eyes from closing and losing yourself to the sensations she was drowning you in.

Rio’s gaze darkened to something a touch more predatory, and then her fingers were back against your wet pussy again.

“You’re so pretty like this,” your lover murmured, mostly to herself. She paused her grinding and kept her knee firmly still on your clit as she moved above you, adjusting.

“So mindless, so open.” You hear her and the words land — but as quickly as they do, they take off again. They’re lost in the haze you’ve sunken into.

In that time, the straps of your night shift fell down your shoulders and hung limply on your arms. The shift threatened to fall further and expose your breasts but you did not try to fix it.

Instead you curled your fingers deeper into Rio’s scalp and tried to pull her closer. You needed her contact, her touch, the burning sensation she left along your skin.

“Fuck — I wish I could just — photograph this for a frame on the wall,” the raven-haired woman hissed, leaning down again and nuzzling into your neck.

You squeaked when she brushed against your hardened nipples — too sensitive with the shift covering them and bordering on painful. Thankfully, she left those alone for now and increased her grinding.

“Do you want me inside, Angel? Want to cum all over my fingers while you ride my knee?” She worded it as though it were a question, but whether or not you answered you knew it was happening.

The intensity of your pleasure would be astronomical once she got her fingers inside of you. You would be undone in a matter of minutes and perfectly put back together and locked up with a key only Rio had to your entire state of being.

“Pl-please,” you managed when she didn’t insert them. “Rio, please. Need them.”

Rio grinned in such a way that you could not help but believe that she looked like a piece of art come to life just for you alone. It was a selfish thought, but it was a thought you indulged nonetheless.

“Good girl.” Those words were -- in and of themselves -- a permission of their own as you reeled into her body. Your lover crooned above you as she felt her fingers squeezing her, ironclad, and making it difficult to thrust. That did not mean she was a woman who gave up. Not one bit. Her eyes grazed along your body and she could not believe you were all hers.

Her lips curled around one of your nipples as her pace increased, letting out a guttural noise when her fingertips brushed along the spongy wall inside of you.

You felt it when she did, of course you did, and a sharp shudder rippled through you underneath Rio. Her knee shifted, she lifted her hand just so --

You locked up underneath the woman, a wail cutting off before it truly had a chance to escape you as her effort finally was rewarded in full. The orgasm that rushed over you fed Rio life in the world wherein all she knew was death.

She pulled off of your breast, adding teeth very lightly to draw out the pleasure, and smashed her lips against yours. She needed to be against you, inside of you more than she already was. She needed you so deeply and so animalistically that her ears rang.

The only thing that mattered right now was this moment and what she could give you.

But eventually you started sliding down the slope that she led you upward to -- your body relaxing and loosening beneath her and the grip your walls had on her fingers going with it.

Your movements and hers both slowed until all that was left was heavy breathing and sticky skin and emotions that Rio felt so strongly that she could no longer deny was from the Bond she had created and used upon you.

Her nose brushed across your cheekbone as your chest and hers came to lay upon one another in the aftermath. She had yet to remove her fingers and you did not ask her to remove them like you usually did after lovemaking.

You usually took some time to recover after sex but this was something else. You were overwhelmed but you couldn't place the exact cause in order to address it.

The best way you could describe it was a buzzing, full feeling that weighed your veins down and somehow made you feel like your blood was thicker than it should be inside of your body.

"Are you . . ." Rio broke the silence, causing you to open your heavy eyes to peer up at her. She paused, gaze shuttering in a way you're unfamiliar with.

"Am I what?" you whisper back, adjusting your body slightly. Her fingers scraped inside of you and both of you stopped. Stopped moving, stopped breathing, stopped existing. Like it would spark a fire of a nature that could not be doused.

"Never mind," she snarled, suddenly encasing you in another hard kiss as she once more started up, throwing you back deep into oblivion of pleasure.

2025

You kneeled along the sidewalk that led to your front door, sifting through mulch and soil as you planted hydrangeas into the ground from their pot.

Tommy was laying in the grassy expanse under the large oak tree, ever the watchful companion even in an upper-class neighborhood where your biggest concern was nosy neighbors.

All to familiar. Some things would never change over the years.

Rio had been on edge, however, believing that there was a constant danger hovering just above your head. The source was one Wanda Maximoff -- the Scarlet Witch, the downfall of RIo's ex-girlfriend.

You sort of think you really like Wanda just for that alone. As you had come to know Rio, so did you realize who Agatha was and the way she had used Rio.

Wanda Maximoff had brought Rio's greatest regret to her knees and still Rio returned to save her, revive her power. And Agatha throws it back in her face again.

So when you notice Tommy's long legs moving and standing to block your body with his, head low and eyes staring hard and unblinking, you look up and aren't disappointed to find the witch crossing the street toward you.

"Wanda," you greet first, sitting up and dusting your gloves off over the flowerbed without getting up from where you sat on your knees. "Hey."

She stopped just at the edge of your property line and returned the greeting with a surprised smile, "Hello. I remember you from a few weeks ago — you're Rio's . . . wife?"

She was insinuating an entirely different meaning with her carefully worded inquiry, approaching the topic cautiously as though she expected it to summon Rio from the shadows.

"It’s okay to call me her Familiar,” you replied, more of a confirmation to the underlying, unasked question than what she had worded verbally.

You noticed the slightest of head tilts and your lips quirked. You realized very quickly that unlike Rio, Wanda was more expressive. She showed her reactions in just a few moments of interaction.

It was refreshing in a sense, even after so many years of knowing Rio’s little tells that helped you figure out what she was trying to tell you or what she was feeling.

“You’re not married?” the redhead wondered.

You stuck the garden towel head first into the dirt, deciding that you could use a break from the gardening anyways. “No, not in the legal sense. Rio and I never really . . . got there?”

The shrug of your shoulders had her brows furrowing.

“Why not?”

A pause because you did have to think about it. Why.

You could give this woman who you barely knew a lie, a watered down answer, something to please her but the little magic you obtained from Rio through the Bond didn’t thrum like it does when there’s a threat.

“I met Rio a long time ago,” you finally say, disrupting the birdsong and breeze that had started up in your silence. “A long time ago meant that people like Rio and I were persecuted, but not for witchcraft.”

Green eyes met yours and what you saw was a pain that echoed inside of you, familiar and old and deep. A pain you had buried with no headstone so that it couldn’t be identified ever again.

The witch wasn’t using magic on you or Rio would be back and on her like a bat out of hell. This was your own doing, your own resurfacing and she was identifying with it in her own way.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda replied. She didn’t ask you to delve deeper or reopen the wound for her. “I know what . . . What persecution is like.”

“Do you?”

It hadn’t meant to be accusatory, but you couldn’t help your sharp tongue and the clench of your jaw. Tommy reacted to your tone and growled low at Wanda — his one and only warning.

“Before Thanos,” Wanda started, nearly choking on the beginning of her sentence, “some of the Avengers were on the run. I’m sure you saw some of that on the news.”

“A little.” You kept a glance between her and Tommy, who was still staring hard.

Wanda brought a ringed hand up to her mouth and brushed a knuckle against her lips, completely ignoring your canine protector and gaze going distant.

“I was among those on the run — and . . . He came with me. Ran with me, for me. Vision,” she trailed off and the name in which she spoke was barely whispered into the air, drowned out in grief, “He and I were . . . So in love that I think I could’ve been content to stay on the run and settle somewhere deep in the country and never be found. Marry him.”

A breath slowly shifted out of your lungs and you made slow work to peel off your gloves, sprinkling dirt into your lap.

You worked to, at the same time, wrangle your emotions into a controlled environment as Wanda spoke so freely to you. The Scarlet Witch was telling you her life story and you couldn’t ascertain if there was an underlying motive, which made you nervous and if you felt it too strongly, Rio would come storming through.

You flexed your fingers, pretending to stretch them out after removing your gloves. You tested the energy in the air but your magic remained sleepy inside of your veins, unbothered.

Wanda hadn’t even so much as activated her magic since being over here. You would have felt the remnants — a gift thanks to your Familiar Bond.

Your eyes returned to find green engulfing you, no longer as readable as they were before. For a moment the two of you simply stared at each other. Then:

"Why didn't you? Run away with him, get married, be lost?"

You felt it was a fair question — she had asked you something personal and you had answered honestly.

A gleam in her eyes lit for only the briefest of moments, then disappeared again. She looked away entirely as though to hide in plain sight.

"I could give you the multiple excuses I’ve been telling myself all these years,” she said bitterness heavy in her throat, “We weren’t ready. We never had time between hopping from safehouse to safehouse. We were young and stupid.” Her lips grazed one of the rings on her finger as a sour smile tilted her lips, “But I’ll give you the truth. I was a coward and so was he. We lived in such a suffocating fear that any attempt at happiness would be our undoing.”

You were quiet and watchful in her presence, letting her know you were listening. But you also did not know what to say to her. That you resonated with her? Because sure — in a way, you did. But while it was similar in how it made you live life, made you exist in a lonely pocket . . . The persecutions themselves were entirely different and made your experience unique from Wanda’s.

She didn’t seem to notice your internal battle, her eyes gazing off down the street to some neighborhood kids chasing each other down the sides of two houses. She lowered her hand, twisting one ring aggressively before tucking the hand into the pocket of her jeans.

“I was a coward,” she eventually managed to get out, strained, “and because of that, it led me to do things I regret. It introduced me to the Scarlet Witch, and now I have to learn how to live with her in my head and try to come to terms with the damage I’ve done and the consequences I can’t escape.”

And for some unknown reason, what she said to you somehow safeguarded a sense of trust that was difficult to place. You swallowed and your throat was dryer than sand paper, and you wanted to cool down.

Wanda Maximoff needed a friend, and maybe some lemonade.

You gripped your loves and breathed out, "Tommy, down."

Wanda's eyes flashed toward the dog as he returned to your side in a snap, body flopping down and his attention no longer targeted on Wanda.

"The cowardice you speak of is not concept that is unique to you," you told her as you started to get to your feet with some struggle and gesturing to your home, "In traumatic events, I found that we do what we need to do to survive and . . ."

You trailed off as Wanda approached, following you and Tommy toward the door. You let out a breath, ". . . and sometimes when those traumatic events affect us so greatly and yet those around us seem to not notice it, and we go without what we need to manage it, our mind does what it can to fix itself. Even if that means making mistakes we wish we could take back."

You held the door open for the redhead to come in, an invitation to your space that Rio had denied her previously. She entered and waited for you to shut the door, taking in the surroundings with undisguised interest.

Her eyes then returned to you and narrowed just so.

"I don't think what you did at Westview makes you a villain, Wanda," you told her — for if anyone could help define a villain, why not you? Why not you after Rio? — "I think it was a response to everything that’s happened to you, and it was your way of coping with it when nobody else seemed to see or hear your pain."

Wanda’s lips thinned, her face expressing in a way that reminded you of someone who’d been punched at close-range. Still, she didn’t refute your claim.

Instead she decided to keep following you into the kitchen; where you were going to make some lemonade and sit down with a lonely woman who had lost everything twice over and was alone in a world that despised her.

She was Rio's mirror in an a heartachingly broken way that drew you to her, to befriend her. Rio refused to discuss Wanda but if she could sit down with the redhead she would understand what you saw:

Two sides of the same coin, dealt hands so terrible that their choices led them into destroying what it means to live in reality and what feeling the pain that came with it.

Rio noticed the flowerbed half done when she appeared on the end of the property. The darkened sky gave way to the yard lights that neatly decorated the sidewalk up to the front porch and drive way.

Her hands tucked themselves away within her pockets, her suspenders, neatly dry-cleaned dress-shirt, and slacks mostly for show.

To their neighbors and other mortals they entertained in their domestic life, she was a forensic pathologist — newest career disguise and a long shot from the pharmacist she used to mask herself as.

Rio had juggled multiple different ideas for what to play her career as this go round; she had done pharmaceuticals and a detective, both of which were ironically connected to her true line of work.

If reaping souls and taking them to the afterlife could be considered work when thats what one was created for.

Rio was borne with a singular purpose and the older she got, the more curious — or rebellious, perhaps — she got about what she could do that she wasn’t made to do.

Either way it gave her a sense of humanity in the sort of similar to when she first met you and had the urge to play pretend.

Despite your current knowledge on who she is — what she is — it still allows Rio to feel normal.

As if Death could ever be anything than what It truly was at Its’ very barest bones. Rio couldn’t truly lie about herself or her nature, but she gave herself this small piece of something that was hers.

The deity paused, still as can be, inside of the entryway when laughter that didn’t belong to you was heard from where she was, door still ajar and handle wrapped around her fingers.

If she had a heart, the racing would have eased upon hearing your laughter follow soon after followed by you saying something that caused a discussion to break out between you and whoever was in the home.

Rio swallowed hard as she shut the door, as silent as Death, makes her way down the hallway of the home that she had so meticulously prepared and curated for you and your comfort.

What greeted her sent a course of fear and rage mixed together through her entire being, coiling together like two angry vipers pledged to strike at the same time.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the handcrafted archway, eyes locked onto the way you bit into a store-bought peanut butter cookie while Wanda Fucking Maximoff leaned against the island diagonal to you, grinning.

“Nearly burned the house down,” you said, covering your mouth so as not to laugh and spit crumbs everywhere. Your cheeks were flushed. “I’m terrible at baking. I can cook everything else, but Gods — ask me to do something with baked goods and I just can’t.”

Wanda’s laugh was genuine enough that the fear leaked out of Rio, instead replacing it with a jealousy that the rage fueled tenfold as she tapped her fingertips across her elbow as the scene played out.

Your eyes glanced to the side, as though sensing Rio, and you only froze for a moment before you grinned. “Hi, Rio. How was work?”

“Mm, busy.” Rio’s dark eyes searched yours, looking for any sign that you were distressed. She took a handle of the Bond between you and tugged it, demanding a response.

You pushed off the counter and move her direction. She wraps her arms around your slightly-protruding waist as she engulfs you, nosing into your hair. You still smelled earthy and like soil, with some of that peanut butter like touch from the cookies you’d been snacking on.

“Having fun?” Are you okay? is what was really asked.

You pulled back from her protective embrace just enough to look up at her, smiling so sweetly that she hoped to wonder if it was all genuine.

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning up on your feet just to kiss her cheek, lips soft and warm against her cold skin. A brush of life against hard Death. “Wanda and I got to talking — I invited her in for a lemonade and time escaped us.”

Rio carded one hand through your hair, humming as you spoke and keeping one arm around your waist still. “I’m glad you had a good day, Angel. And that Wanda is being a good friend.”

You bit your lip in a recognizable way — the way that told Rio you were holding something back. Perhaps until Wanda left.

Your magic was steady, stable, undisturbed. It eased some of her concerns but her eyes still rose away from you to Maximoff.

Wanda held her half-empty glass to her lips, elbows leaning along the countertops and eyes following Rio and you like she was trying to decrypt an ancient, unreadable text.

Reader, Rio, and Wanda will return in Part Eight

PART EIGHT

Tag List: @dandelions4us , @flow33didontsmoke , @girlsgotissues , @crescentcrush , @6stolenangel9 , -- if I forgot anyone, please let me know!

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.

[markleessodalite]

There's No Dignity in Love: z.cl

content: Chenle is in love with you, he can't deny it. And he's mortified. A little bit angsty, a teeny bit of fluff, mostly just Chenle being difficult. No warnings i can think of

a/n: i find it so much easier to write for Chenle than for Jeno or Haechan, my actual biases lol

Its not that Chenle didn’t like you. Actually, the reality is the furthest thing from. Chenle is stubborn as a mule and hates to lose, even if its to himself. And for some reason, Chenle accepting that he might, in fact, have a little crush on you, feels like losing. It feels like he might as well tell you every other embarrassing secret he has, because what’s the point in trying to maintain his dignity now? You two were friends, have been for such a long time, and you know all the right ways to pick at him, get under his skin, tease him relentlessly and encourage his other friends to join in on the fun. He has no problem teasing you right back though. Or he used to not have a problem with it, but for some reason it was getting harder and harder to come up with clever quips on the spot, and he’d spent more and more nights wondering if he went too far and if you actually were hurt by something he said. With each day Chenle was getting more shy and less cocky, and you picked up on it so easily, and teased him even more, and he hated it. So why shouldn’t he just tell you about every mistake he’s made, every time he’s embarrassed himself in front of someone important, every time he’s been confused about something everyone else in the room seems to have the upper-hand on so that you have all the ammunition you need to make him feel like a loser?

He already feels like a loser anyway, just all of a sudden having a crush on someone he’s been bickering with for years. He’s such a loser for being so obvious about it, the way that his talkative self immediately shuts up when your attention is on him. He’s such a loser for laying awake at night thinking about all this and trying to talk himself out of this rut. Maybe he’ll eventually convince himself that it’s not a crush– he is Zhong Chenle, after all. Stubborn as a mule.

At least he was gonna try to talk himself out of it until a certain someone (very likely Haechan no matter how much he denies it) got tired of a clearly lovesick Chenle and decided to take matters into his own hands. You were completely caught off guard by the sudden anonymous private message, but not too surprised at what it said. So you gave Chenle a call later that day.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“Because its not true.” He chuckles, but you can hear the wavering in his voice.  “Do you really think that highly of yourself?”

"Chenle..."

“Y/N” he torts, mocking your tone of voice. “Seriously, I don’t know where you got this idea that-”

"I see how you've changed, Chenle."

"...what?"

“I’ve just… I’ve noticed things. You got quieter. You don’t argue with me as much. You’ve just kind of… pulled away. I was worried that I did something to offend you, I didn’t know, I just…”

There’s a silence so loud you think your eardrums are gonna blow out, until you realize you’re just hearing your own heartbeat in your head. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding. Whoever sent you that message was probably just messing with you, but now you’ve crossed a line and made things awkward.

"I do like you."

"Really?!"

“Just shut up and let me get this out okay?" Chenle sighs, a mix of annoyance and anxiety evident in his breath. "I do like you, and I don’t really know why, because we’ve been friends for years at this point and I haven't started liking you until recently. Or maybe I just didn’t realize it until recently– whatever. And I guess that I've changed but that’s just because my thinking has changed I guess? Like sometimes I can’t sleep because i’m thinking about you and I’m flipping between convincing myself I don’t like you and wishing that you were lying awake with me, which would just frustrate me even more because you know how I am with this kind of stuff and admitting things that I don’t want to, and, just… yeah. I don’t know. I’ve got my own issues with my pride and stuff, I guess.”

You tried to think very carefully before responding, although Chenle’s shaky breath on the other end of the line was thoroughly distracting. “Sometimes a little humility can go a long way, Lele.”

"... I know."

“I wouldn’t have thought anything bad about you if you told me.”

"I know."

“What I do think is that I like you too, Chenle. Even if you’re a loser.”

Chenle doesn’t say anything, but you just know he’s rolling his eyes while biting back a smile. There’s no way you won’t tease him about this later.

[chaifootsteps]

I feel like I could fix the apology tour conversation with a few tweaks (the anti blitz party has to go though) because it’s so blatantly black and white (pro stolas, anti blitz) it makes Viv look biased and that she secretly despises her main character and blames him for his own abuse at the hands of her favourite character.

For example:

Blitz: I always come running when you need help! And don’t bring up that striker thing, you know I had to take Loona and MnM helped you!

Stolas: Fine, but you couldn’t even be bothered to come visit me in the hospital! And I’ve helped you before as well.

Blitz: I’ve always hated hospitals alright?! At least I wanted you to get better. If it weren’t for you not having proper bodyguards—

Stolas: If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have been targeted anyway!! My lunatic ex wife Stella has been after me ever since what you did! And my daughter can barely look at me. Don’t you care about that?!

Blitz: It’s not my job to solve all your problems, and you’re just as guilty as I am. Quit blaming me for what that bitch does, and stand up to her already.

Stolas: you’ll never understand how difficult that is. You’re just a thief.

Blitz: I did a bad thing, stealing from you. But I did it for my family , I put up with your shit every month so they can have a normal life. And you used it all as an opportunity to get sex from me constantly. You still ruined your own family and I’m done feeling guilty.

Stolas: “Guilty”? You’ve been lying and giving me mixed messages this whole time, I thought you came to visit me because you missed me. I thought you really liked me, really cared. I knew it was a lie when I saw the book missing, I just didn’t want to believe it. So yes I used you, because I wanted that feeling to maybe, if possible, become real. But I..I don’t think I ever loved you. I didn’t even know you. And now that I do know you, I don’t think you’re right for me at all.

Blitz: Then I guess we both used each other.

Stolas: I….suppose we did….

And something like this is actually conflicting, heart breaking, does show that both of them have done wrong. This is far more equal than vivzie giving stolas every W imaginable, having him cry and sing over and over and over and over for sympathy, and using irrelevant third parties to make blitz look evil so that stolas can win the argument.

See, Viv? That's how you have the show paint them as both being in the wrong. It's just that easy.

[thegremlininyourcloset]

a fine selection of random Stephanie Brown AUs for your consideration (but they get wilder and wilder as they go on)

I will describe the plot of exactly none of them (lying)

@fictfrenzy @themoonwitch-mustspeak

Red Hood Steph.

if you go by the metric of the five “official” Robins, in a Reverse Robins situation, Steph would swap with Jason.

Coincidentally, Steph is also the Robin who could fit a Red Hood-type arc the best. She cares deeply about her part of Gotham (the suburbs in canon but in my heart Steph is a Narrows girl (going by hinn-raven’s headcanons)) She also has many Extremely Justified reasons to have a grudge against the Bats and Bruce specifically (maybe even moreso than Jason cough cough who said that)

Also, it would absolutely highlight my favorite tragic mentor-student-but-more-complicated-and-vaguely-familial-but-not-really bond of Steph & Bruce

AND my favorite sibling duo of Damian & Steph. (Reverse Robins Damian would imprint on her so hard I fear. That’s his baby sister now fuck off) (also they would totally echo the classic (though not classic in this universe) Batman & Robin dynamic—)

Also. ALSO

The Stephcass in this AU would go SO HARD.

like

strangers-to-friends-to-best friends-to-enemies-to-its complicated-to-lovers hard.

Something something the woman who abhors killing hating and loving and hating and LOVING a killer

something something knowing your best friend in the whole world would despise what you’ve become. And you go down that path anyway. You wish you didn’t think about her so often.

Something something catching a glimpse of the girl who once loved, who you still love, in the woman facing you on the battlefield.

yarghhhhhhhhh

2. First Robin Steph (and First Batgirl! Cass…)

Just imagine. Steph as the first Robin

and I don’t mean at the age when she was canonically Robin

I mean baby 9 year old Steph.

Wait.

would that mean Spoiler would become the equivalent of the Robin mantle? Or would she get another one to then pass down?? Oughhhhh

But basically tiny Steph being feral and fighting crime and Bruce awkwardly coparenting her with Crystal Brown who’s in rehab.

hopefully Crystal doesn’t die

But yeah.

Also, first Batgirl! Cass.

I don’t think she’d take on an Oracle role (Because Cassandra would-rather-be-perfect-for-a-year-than-mediocre-for-a-lifetime Cain would uh.Yeah that wouldn’t end well)

So she’d end up inventing a new role for herself once she grew out of Batgirl (if she decides to call it Batgirl idk)

as for what that’d be…who knows

(would this end with Nightwing & Flamebird Stephcass? Maybe. Who knows. not me)

3. Batman Steph

Okay but consider. The poetic justice and tragedy inherent in the Bat nobody believed in ending up as Batman.

She’s become the symbol of the Batfamily—someone nobody will ever doubt or belittle anymore—but at what cost

Because Batman is a tragedy.

And the fact that it’s Steph who takes the cowl? Not Cass, not Dick, not even Damian.

But Steph.

the sacrifice, the poetry, the legacy of it all.

Arghhhhhhhhhh

the concept of Damian, or Maps as her Robin?

ohhhhhhggggggggggh

4.Green Lantern! Steph

Look she has the fucking willpower for it. Also, Steph deserves a pack of irresponsible uncles/older brothers and other assorted family members.

Also, she deserves to be the Bat that gets on the galactic scale because I’m biased and I love her and also POETIC JUSTICE!!!!!

Like.

Oh, you don’t think she can protect Gotham?

Well, FUCK YOU, now the fucking PLANET is under her jurisdiction take THAT

also? I wanna see what she could do with Green Lantern constructs. She’d use them SO WELL!!!

(And maybe Star Sapphire Cass ahaha)

5. Monster/Creature Steph

she deserves it. Make her a dragon, or a werewolf, or a mermaid/siren, or literally Any Creature Ever because she deserves to be feral

6. Meta Steph with a Luck Power

I love the idea of Steph being able to survive BULLSHIT situations.

It would also be cool if she didn’t even know about this power

At least until Duke (who I’m pretty sure can enhance others powers)

was like.

Duke:Congratulations, you’re a Metahuman

Steph: wat

anyways I’m rapidly losing coherence.

[temporarywelcome]

Formula of Love - Tate Langdon

Words: .8k (short n' sweet)

Summary: Tate can't stand reader's music taste.

A/N: trying out shorter fics to see how I like it.

“Shut the hell up Mina is so the best dancer in the group,” 

Swinging her legs while lying on her stomach in her comfy bed, Y/N had her phone pressed to her ear using her shoulder as leverage. She pouted, replying to her best friend, “Bullshit, it’s Momo. Mina is a great dancer too though, which is why they share the main dancer position,” 

“You’re just biased because you’re, like, in love with her,” her friend shot back. 

Y/N giggled, rolling her eyes, “My true love is Jihyo,” 

“She will never love you,”

“Youch,” she sat up, “Imma go now, I have some homework to do,” 

After saying their goodbyes, the two hung up, Y/N standing up and walking to her shelf. Surveying her album collection, she plucked out Formula of Love by TWICE, the group that housed Mina, Momo, and Jihyo, settling down in her bed again. Popping open the CD rom of her laptop, she inserted the disk.

Hey, if you have a million albums, you might as well use the CDs.

As SCIENTIST began to play, she hummed along to the song, occasionally eyeing the side of her laptop as if the CD rom was going to pop open on its own. 

Well, she wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Ever since she had moved into this house with her family, every time she would play music and leave her phone or laptop for a few moments, the music would either stop or completely change. 

It was… strange, to say the least. Very strange. 

After a few minutes, her stomach rumbled, so she stood up and slipped out of her room to get to the kitchen. 

And that was when Tate Langdon took his chance. 

Tate hated Y/N’s music taste. To him, her music was meaningless and straight up ass. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what they were saying most of the time, so he really didn’t know what the meaning to any of these songs were. 

It didn’t matter anyway, none of those people would ever compare to Kurt Cobain. 

A one point, Y/N had gone hours listening to her shitty music and since she was so engrossed with whatever she was looking at on her laptop, Tate took the opportunity, grabbing a Sharpie and drawing all over one of the posters on her door. 

She was furious, blaming everyone in the house, which gave him time to replace the CD she was listening to with one of her dad’s Nirvana CDs. 

Her dad was cool. 

So as Y/N busied herself with getting a snack, Tate opened the CD rom and took out the stupid TWICE CD, replacing it with a Nirvana one he had taken from her father’s collection in the basement. 

Ah, Kurt Cobain. Real shit. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Tate jumped, head snapping to the direction of the sound. The doorway. Y/N, holding a bowl filled with what he could assume was her brainfood for this homework session. 

“You can see me?” he asked stupidly. 

She looked at him like he really was stupid, “Of course? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my room!?”

“Your music taste is ass,” he ignored her question, lying on her bed.

“Excuse me?” she blinked, eyeing her room for some sort of protection in the chance he was an insane serial killer.

“It’s ass,” he repeated.

“How dare you?” Y/N was completely flabbergasted, “You came into my room just to insult my music taste? Get the hell out!” 

“I don’t want to, Kurt is speaking,” he replied, “I’m Tate, by the way,”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, get out!” she hissed. She went to throw the first thing she saw at him, the Formula of Love album, but paused. She would not risk a perfectly good album on this asshole. She had a Jihyo poster in there. 

He huffed, offended, as if he had the right to be, “Well, now I definitely don’t want to leave,” 

“What the fuck?” she could feel her blood pressure rising more and more, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

Tate smirked, dimples on full display as he stood up and sauntered towards her. Taking the album from her hands, pissing her off further, he looked down at it, “You call this real music?” 

“You’re a real nice guy, y’know that?” she snatched the album back from him, “Are you the one who keeps fucking with my music?!” the more she processed it, the more ticked off and panicked she got, “How often are you in my house?!”

“Does it matter? I think your poor music taste is more important, a much bigger issue,” 

What the hell is wrong with this guy?

He grinned, strolling towards her album collection, “What is the appeal anyway? You don’t even know what they’re saying,” 

Y/N paused, before slowly joining him in front of the bookshelf. She pulled out a different album, Ready to Be, “I’ll advocate on TWICE’s behalf, you can speak in defense of your Nirvana. Then you can get the hell out of my house.

Tate’s eyes lit up, the idea of being able to talk to a pretty girl around his age about something he enjoyed bringing him joy, “I’m so going to win,”

She was speaking his language. He had a feeling they would be talking more often.

[sleepybbie]

(going on anon bc im shy WHEHDHD🫡)

but how about a drabble of like, having a quickie with yingxing in his workshop or something 🤭🤭

bonus point if hes being a tease and kept edging you, forcing you to keep begging even tho he kept denying u anyways :3

𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒚 | yingxing (blade) drabble

a/n: SHSHHSJA I LOVE U SM FOR THIS ISTG (>w<) ♡ since i’m a bit biased (i am) i low-key made this drabble more longer than i originally planned to be ;w; but that shows how i love him sm

yingxing (blade) x fem!reader

warning: smutty drabble below! mentions of past!blade so there’s spoilers too ૮ • ﻌ - ა

you’d be lying to yourself if you say you didn’t enjoy watching your lover work on his weapon forges.

it wasn’t rare to anyone in the xianzhou that YINGXING was a very hard worker when it comes to crafting masterpieces of a weapon, glands of sweat rolling down his forehead to his forearm before wiping it away with ease. no wonder jingliu wanted him to be the one forging the weapons for the high cloud quintet; not only they were easy to hold and durable, but they have a strong impact of slashes that were even hard to destroy.

he gives in a lot of effort to his creations. therefore, he spends most of his time on his crafting table to make sure they were perfect. every weapon he forges, he smiles as he creates a new masterpiece and takes his time.

but how could he forget such a cute darling like you?

if there’s one thing you knew about your lover, is that he likes to tease, make you pout when he gets the chance. it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him as he hammers down a weapon, it wasn’t your fault you find it so hot when he rolls his sleeve down his sweaty arms during the heating process, it wasn’t your fault why you visit his smithy looking so alluring and ethereal in a new short gown baiheng gifted to you in order to show it to him, and it’s absolutely not your fault why the small items from his table (including the blueprints) were scattered onto the ground while you’re being fucked in his workshop.

…this is a different kind of “risky” he’s giving you, a memory that might be in your head for a couple of weeks, or even months because of how good he was slamming his hips onto that spot of yours over and over. you have no idea whether his workshop was soundproof, you’re scared if ever dan feng were to visit him—after all, that high elder often comes in without warning. he finds it endearing, how your soft smile when you entered his forging area was now shifted into a mouth that cries his name on repeat like he just damaged your brain.

he promised to make this quick since he still has some forgery to finish. you don’t want him to be distracted when he’s already so focused, do you?

“ngh..! ha..! ah! y-yingxing…!”

your helpless and breathless mewls just seemed to turn him on more along with the way your hands clawed its way onto his damp neck, pushing your legs further up to wrap around his waist as he fucks into that spot of yours, repeating his ruthless thrusts while he pants heavily over your shoulder. it was sticky, you both were getting sticky; it’s obvious you were close, the pain your nails were digging on his attire was certainly giving a sign. who wouldn’t? his tip penetrating deep inside on your cervix was already enough to send you over the edge.

“p-please…wan…wanna cum..!”

“not until i say so, sweetheart..” he breathes into your neck, taking in that scent of yours like a pervert as he grins, “be obedient and wait for my signal..”

you hated when he does this, so teasing…you’ve been a good girl, right? so why? you teared up a little, and that just riled something inside of him more.

suddenly without warning, yingxing lifts you up off his desk, carrying your body until you back hit the wall, pushing his cock back inside of your sobbing puffy cunt like he was running out of time. he didn’t give time to rub himself in you, he just straight up pushes himself in. yingxing picks up the pace, pushing his tongue into your mouth while carrying your legs, balancing your body in order for you not to fall back from the wall. he’s strong..as expected from one of the strongest in the luofu. you’re full on crying, drooling spill past both of your lips before he pulls away with a smile. he’s close too…you can see it from the way he bites down his lip, blood drawing out, shutting his eyes when you clenched down on him.

now you both were even.

“are you keeping it in?”

“p-please, please, please…wanna…cum, yingxing…!”

“just a little more…i—

he was cut off with a grunt, pushing you back up on the wall after you almost fell down. were you so fucked out from his thrusts it made you unable to hold yourself? he chuckles.

“that was close, huh? as i was saying..just a little more, darling…and then you can cum..”

god, this was unfair. it’s so much..it’s only been a past minute when you both decided for a quick-quick, yet the smithy was a mess with the scent of sex. dan feng was definitely going to question this after..

“c’mon…almost there..” he goes even more faster, you swore your eyes were gouging at the back of your head when it hits that soft spot in your walls over and over, feeling semen spill out little by little, his thrusts sloppier..holy shit, you were seeing the aeons at this point. yingxing had a vice grip over your thighs as he holds you tight, your head bumping on the wall behind you, hard. you could hear him curse underneath his breath.

“y-yingxing, please…!”

“shit…you wanna cum? come, my darling, let’s do it together..”

and with one last thrust, his lips on yours to silence your moans, the coil in your stomach was cut along with his, cum spilling down past your legs as you whined loudly in his mouth—ribbons of his release shooting inside of you, breeding you basically. your poor cunt spills his thick seed, tickling down to his legs and onto the floor. fucking messy, and fucking filthy.

he didn’t dare to drop you while you both catch your breath, after all he didn’t want you to be hurt. yingxing holds you tight, leaving a small mark over your neck as he pulls out, watching his dick soften, along with his release spilling out of you. he thinks you’re pretty, he knows you’re pretty, including with that new fucked our expression of yours. he kisses your cheek, to your nose and on your forehead. he smiles, acting like he didn’t fucked you like a goddamn beast.

“want to buy something with me at the market? i forgot i need more materials.”

this guy…

an: hehe! i love yingxing ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[fairuzfan]

shalom sister. i love your blog and your writing. reading your posts always fills me with fire, i can tell you have a good heart. donating to your campaign makes me feel so good because i trust you and truly you are doing gds work. anyway i wanted to ask you a question!

when i hear new things from gaza, stories of hamas doing X and IOF doing Y, i ask around and i’m not sure what parts of that story is true, if any. anyway idk what to believe all i know is that israel is committing acts of genocide and while the rest of the world is allowing this greatest evil, israel pretends that to be jewish is to be a colonizer. anyway some of my family are zionists, but i cannot sway them because they only know farsi persian and hebrew, aka only trust extremely biased sources.

anyway i am fluent in english farsi and hebrew but my arabic is trash ): so i feel like i can’t get the full picture from palestinians. all i can read are bonkers iranian papers and the disgusting zionist articles, it’s horrible because i know they’re both lying, just about different things. a palestinian opinion is the only opinion i care about right now! anyway it got me thinking. i just wanted to know if you have tips for verifying online research? or go-to non arabic websites? or even a translation app haha. i just want my family to see the truth!

shalom<3

shalom! thank you so much for reaching out, i really appreciate it.

personally, i use different sources for different material. i use middle east eye (specifically maha hussaini) and also mahmoud abusalama for videos of what it's like in the north. i use the electronic intifada interview podcasts to learn about specific things happening (i just finished watching this one about the collapse of healthcare in gaza). i would check out @northgazaupdates on here too. there's euromedmonitor as well.

and really, there are a lot of diaspora palestinians who are relaying what their family tells them, and they post on twitter a lot. someone i know does this is samah fadil. there's also @el-shab-hussein who translates things from Mona. here's mohammad smiry who is in gaza and tweets primarily in english. dr. mustafa elmasri also tweets in english too.

i would use al-jazeera, i have a fact checking guide here about any news source really. i don't use it as much but there's also the palestine chronicle. sometimes i use quds news network.

i really don't know much about hebrew media so i can't really tell you about sources i recommend there. i don't know if @bringmemyrocks or @rodeodeparis can perhaps provide some input?

i will say, if you're looking for hebrew palestinian media, i dont think there's too much because there's a ridiculous amount of censorship in '48 right now (honestly it's been going on for years atp) but what a lot of palestinians are doing is relying on internal networks. if you want, there are some israeli historians like Ilan Pappe and Avi Shlaim but I'm not sure if they write in hebrew. but they for sure write in english and provide a historical perspective from within israeli society itself.

this is what comes to mind rn honestly, but i haven't even touched on instagram because i haven't been on it in a while. i might add on later if i remember any really vital ones that i recommend.

[skyeslittlecorner]

IT'S TIME TO CELEBRATE! KING OF BABYGIRLS IS CHOSEN! 

Let me contribute to this competition. As one of the people whose brain was rotten and taken over, let me be the (self-proclaimed) herald of victory.

First, a little kiss for Zagan, Sitri and Foras just because I’m biased and want to kiss my personal babygirls. Also, a huge kiss and a basket of delicacies served by the maids for Amon, and a salute to his nation. We carried out your will, my lord. 

Now it's time to recognize everyone who deserves it! After hard battles and bloody fights, let's meet our winners.

Paimon stans, it was an honor to fight with you. Therefore, despite the lack of a podium, you deserve to be honorably mentioned. 

Special mention - Paimon

"4th place? What a shaaaame." Paimon leaned in when you said you wanted to put an honorary sticker on his horn. "I'd rather keep it foreeever. Now I have to be caaareful when I wash my haaair! Maybe you can heeelp meee~"

It is true that the inhabitants of Hades are immortally loyal to their beautiful king. No wonder he is on the podium with us.

3th place - Leviathan

You give him a medal, definitely not saying he took third place, unless you want to hang from the ceiling and watch other competitors being hunted down by unspeakable horrors. “You called me what? What a ridiculous idea.” But obviously he likes it and hopes that in addition to a medal, the winner will also receive a kiss. At least. 

One of the favorites from the very beginning. Deservedly, Eligos, one of the cutest devils, takes second place.

2nd place - Eligos 

 “Ohh, only second place?” You almost can't stand his eyes of a kicked kitten, so you gently pat his head and stroke soft hairs. His mood immediately improves, and he catches your hand with a sweet, mischievous smile. "Come on, you have to reward me now." A whole day of cuddles, shopping, eating and your undivided attention awaits!

And, at last. Kneels down. Allow me to pay tribute to our lord and ruler, the one and only sitting on the throne. 

1st place - Andrealphus

You caught him off guard. He was playing with his phone, lying in bed, long hair untied and spread picturesquely on the sheets, T-shirt lifted over a chiseled stomach. You rarely saw this beautiful, lazy side of him, and almost forgot what you came for. “I have a surprise for you, my king.”  He turned to you. Not that he has to, because he couldn't see you anyway, and yet always tried to face you. “Me?” “Let me serve you, as you shall sit on your throne.” He raised an eyebrow in amusement and got up, but didn’t ask. Silky hair got tangled in the horns, so you parted it gently and placed on his back. Each time you scratched him a little harder. First between the shoulders, then you ran your fingers over the muscles that you couldn't see through the material, but felt under your palm.  "We had a little competition." You finally sat down on his lap so he could touch your face, feel your smile under his fingers. “Who among you, devil nobles and kings, is the greatest babygirl. It was a vote, several rounds, like a full-fledged cup. Hundreds of people took part!”  “Sounds like fun.” “And you won.” His facial expression didn't change for a bit.  “I what?” “You won! We voted and cheered and were with you every round. Congratulations!” You kissed him, but he needed another second to process what he heard. His eyes widened, and his fingers twitched on your face. He cupped your cheeks, stroking your lips and eyes with his thumbs, checking to see if you were joking. “How? You said it was hundreds of people. We have never met.” “But they know you in their own way. You're intelligent, kind and gentle… and you know what? Let's let all those who love you have their say. ” You started reading comments, hashtags, and all the happy nonsense you produced during this time. At first, he couldn't believe it, but you wouldn't lie to him. He hugged you tightly as you scrolled through Tumblr. You were having such a great time, and he felt the warmth spreading more and more inside him. So many people. So many kind words. He, who never had family nor friends, who was not used to closeness, always lonely, always depressed, listened to so many praises and admiration about himself.  He was grateful that you included him in the vote. Victory? He would never have thought of it. So many people were with him. So many people loved him. He never knew them, never would, but he wanted to say thanks, to touch and know their faces, to hug each and any of them. All the emotions bottled inside felt down with tears of joy.  “I would like to repay all of you somehow.” His voice became hoarse with emotions. Another kiss landed on his lips, as you brushed away long hair that had fallen onto his handsome face.  “Do not even think about it. It's our way of saying thank you for who you are. And that's all we want you to do for us. Just be, and be yourself.”

[dirtbra1n]

if we could all feign surprise

I have a few things to say. first of which Getting kagi confession and then the very next thing you see is That bastard hanzawa masato. harusono shou reminding you that the story isn’t Not about him too. I’m not making that up I promise I know I’m biased Just trust me. I would never lie to you. anyway Second the hira+kagi room being his last stop on his photo-taking tour implies a couple things. either he started with his room (the room he shares with yashiro) or he’s not taking any photos of his own room (the room he shares with yashiro). second option seems more likely to me (privacy) (probably one of the only ways he’d “abuse” his power as dorm head) (Ha ha ha ha.) Anyway finishing with the hira-kagi dorm is Factually probably just because they’re his neighbors. but they’re also his favorites :) I know this in my heart. also hirano borrowing hair clips from kagi Kagi having hair clips :) supercute also also hirano’s objections being roundly ignored by both masato and kagi who are partners in crime on this Supercute :)

kagi relentless bunny ears. his being So lame. masato and kagi continuing to talk over hirano’s head. warmth :)

leaving the camera to them to have fun (something he would not and did not trust with or afford to other people living in the dorm). Gonna throw up another pair of bunny ears on me? I won’t! (he would) Promise! (lying) hirano taking a candid of kagi the second his back is turned. Love?

It’s best to catch the subject in their natural state. (shutterbug thing to say) (takes one to know one) (they’re not even blurry). kagi cute pouting kagi immediate retaliation completely predictable and entirely undetected by hirano who turned around without a thread of suspicion. Love? Love?

kagi who is so bad at this. Love? Love? Love?

HIS FAVORITES :)

F.N.D.C. (Friendly Neighbor Damage Control) count 3. kagi got most of the photos though :) also

things to takeaway including The dorm head is really fond of his neighbors :) Likes messing with his dear friend hirano with kagi even more than he likes messing with kagi :) sees and knows and recognizes kagi’s feelings before he or niibashi properly understood them and is looking after him just as much as (frankly more than) he looks after anybody and especially hirano. harusono shou loves me but more importantly She loves hanzawa masato. :)

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

happy @mcyt-summer-of-yuri, kai!! this is my treat for @fragayzeichen, I really hope you enjoy ^^

oops wait forgot credits

thank you to @anonymousacres, @thesillyloverezra, and @garlicbreadcrust for ideas and betaing services!

“You need a what now?”

“A moonstone!” Gem supplies, removing her gaze from her notes and to Pearl’s face instead. The woman’s expression was mildly confused, yet willing to help all the same. Gem had always admired that aspect of the other ruler. Despite whatever qualms she had, she was always happy to help a friend in their endeavors.

The wizard grinned apprehensively as she stashed her notebook away in her bag, still rather uneasy with her decisions- but that could be sorted at a later date. Right now, she needed to explain herself. “It’s for a potion I’m making. Moonstones only form here in Gilded Helianthia, so I was wondering if you could help me find some?”

Pearl hummed to herself for a second, tapping a finger against her crossed arms in thought. “I’m sure I could ask a jeweler for some info on them!” 

Gem nodded a bit too eagerly. “Yes, that sounds perfect! Thank you so much, Pearl.” Before she could stop herself, she’d already reached out to take her friend's hands in her own.

Luckily, she was saved from embarrassment when Pearl squeezed them gently. "'Course, mate! Anything for you."

The genuine, caring smile Pearl broke out in made Gem's stomach twist and her chest tighten. Oh, why did she have to be in love with her best friend?

At least, with Pearl's help, she'd finally be able to act on those feelings.

The notebook in her satchel, containing every detail of how to make herself absolutely perfect for Pearl, practically burned a hole through the cloth of her dress with the guilt it made her feel. She felt bad, manipulating Pearl into helping her without telling her the full truth- but Gem supposed she wasn't lying, which gave some comfort.

“Well, don’t just stand there, silly! We better get goin’ while it’s still daylight!” And with that, Gem was promptly dragged away. 

Squawks of surprise and giggles filled the manor’s rooms as they headed for the main entrance. The wizard knew her way around, as she’d been here countless times throughout her life, yet Pearl led her to the door, anyway. Their hands were still intertwined, Gem realized. She tried to hide the redness sprouting across her face that came with the knowledge. 

Pearl’s hurried pace slowed once they reached the outside, transforming into something more akin to a casual stroll. With the more relaxed stride, Gem was able to take in the scenery a bit more. 

She may be biased, but Gem thought of Gilded Helianthia as one of the most beautiful, detailed empires on the continent. Something about it was so peaceful, so cozy. It felt like home. 

Wheat fields sprawled out across the flat ground of the kingdom, hidden by the shopping street they’d moved to once away from the modest mansion. It was more of a large farmhouse, really, which struck a familiar cord in Gem’s heart. It reminded her of her own small home in the Cliffs. While other emperors prided themselves on their grand, sprawling castles, her and Pearl were of the same mind- preferring their quaint cottages.

Anyway- she was getting ahead of herself. 

The combination of their laid-back gait and the gentle swinging of their hands, clasped together between them, gave off such an air of… domesticity, it almost made Gem sick. She had to stamp these feelings down. They did her no good as she was now. But maybe, just maybe, after this, she’d finally have a chance…

She was quite lost in her own head, which led to her not noticing the rake that had fallen in their path. 

It must have fallen from where it had rested against a shopfront. That made sense- they were in the main area of town. She should have been more careful! Gem could hear Pearl’s sharp gasp as her grasp was ripped from the other woman’s. The wizard shot her hands out to try and catch herself, which she realized backfired when the searing heat and pain that comes with skinning your palms bubbled up. 

All that to say, she landed face-first on the sidewalk. 

The same sensation shot up her cheek as it collided with the rough stone. Gem coughed and spluttered, struggling to get air in through her shock. Distantly, she could hear Pearl asking something. She tried to open her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a questioning, pitiful whine. Pathetic.

“Are you ok?” Pearl’s pinched expression flooded her vision, and Gem soon realized she was crouching over her. A gentle hand, which she realized belonged to her friend, cupped her wounded cheek. Gem gasped sharply, and the hand retreated. “Sorry, sorry,” the ruler apologized, wiping some of Gem’s blood discreetly on her dress- not discreet enough, though, “didn’t realize you’d got your face, too. Need some help?”

Gem shook her head weakly, trying her best to smile through her pain- her embarrassment. “Yeah, I-I’m good! I’m fine!” She let out a strained chuckle as she picked herself up from the brick, waving off Pearl’s silent offer of help. “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it.”

With the blink of an eye, a little magic, and a slightly heavier weight on her eyelids, Gem’s wounds were closed. Even the rip she’d felt in the leggings below her dress had been mended. She’d never been more thankful to be a wizard. “See? Fixed!”

She ignored the worried glint in Pearl’s eyes, continuing down the sidewalk before she could say whatever she’d been thinking. 

If she were perfect, she wouldn’t be so clumsy. Wouldn’t see the hurt on Pearl’s face…

The jeweler wasn’t far. It didn’t take long for them to enter the shop, greeted by the cheerful man behind the counter. The store was filled to the brim with precious stones and minerals- gold, silver, rubies, diamonds- you name it, it was here. The owner, as he introduced himself, was happy to help esteemed guests such as themselves (his words, not Gem’s). He even seemed proud of the moonstones he brought out when told what they were after, excitedly telling them when and where they were harvested. 

Thankfully, Gem only needed one for her potion. It cost a pretty penny- one Pearl insisted on paying herself, despite Gem’s protests. 

“It’s hospitality, Gem,” the lady laughed easily. Butterflies churned in the wizard’s stomach. “You’re my guest for the day, so I should pay for you, ‘kay?”

Gem could only nod and hide the growing flush she blamed on the warm, humid evening air. 

“Now that we’re out here,” Pearl interrupted the silence, glancing around at the nearly empty streets surrounding them, “may I ask what this is for?” She held up the box containing the precious ingredient, offering it to the other. 

Gem took it in her hands, fiddling with the magnetic latch. She bit her lip- a nervous habit. What does she say to that? ‘Yeah, I’m going to make a potion that’ll change me forever so you can fall in love with me!’ …That didn’t seem like the right course of action. 

“It’s to help me sleep,” the wizard blurted out before she could stop herself. “I’ve been having trouble falling asleep at night! Moonstone- moon- night- makes sense, y’know?” She giggled a bit too high, ignoring Pearl’s raised eyebrow. 

Thankfully, her awful lie seemed to convince her. “Hope you can get that worked out, mate,” she smiled, pulling her friend into a short hug. Though it was brief, the contact left Gem breathless. “You take care of yourself, alright?”

Gem pulled back slightly too fast, nodding quickly. “Mhm! Uh- got to go, bye!” 

Pearl watched her pull out her elytra and a rocket, getting a running start to soar off into the sky. She followed Gem’s path out, sighing when she left her sight. What was she up to?

—----

Gem stood above the bubbling liquid, taking a deep breath. The moonstone trembled in her hand, hovering over the open flask. The last ingredient.

A deep guilt settled in her stomach, twisting and turning what little she’d had for dinner when she’d gotten home. She felt awful about this. She felt awful about lying, about manipulating her best friend into doing something for her own gain, without her knowledge. 

No, the potion didn’t make Pearl fall in love with her, she wasn’t a creep, but it would make her the perfect person for Pearl. The person Pearl dreamed of when she lay awake at night. The person she wanted to kiss, to cherish, to marry someday. 

Gods, she hoped this worked. 

The stone clinked to the bottom, and she watched as the liquid boiled and reacted to the new addition. It fizzed up to the surface, turning the liquid a bright gold. 

The representative of Pearl. Just like the moonstone. 

Well, here goes nothing.

She barely hesitated before downing it in one fell swoop. The potion was oddly earthy, with hints of grain and yeast across her tongue. It reminded her of the woman of her dreams. 

The wizard set the glass back down onto her desk, wiping her mouth as she breathed heavily. She’d done it. She’d done it- and now all she had to do was wait for the changes.

Wait.

Wait…

Gem was... confused when she felt no immediate changes. She was still the same height, same weight, same hair color, same everything. And, when she checked the mirror, her distinct Adam's apple still bobbed when she swallowed. Even the gap between her front teeth hadn't budged. Had the potion even worked?

No, she was sure she'd done it right. She'd followed every instruction down to the tee, double and triple checking each step.

Why hadn't she changed?

As soon as she thought of the question, the answer struck her like a lightning bolt. Gem's breath hitched in her throat. No- no that couldn't be right.

...Pearl already thought of her as perfect?

[thechanglingchronicles]

Okay okay fine

We’ll talk about Scott (1/18 traffic analysis)

I’m gonna start by saying if you’re a die hard Scott fan you probably won’t like this, I’m not the biggest fan of his. Please go look at my other posts or just ignore this.

I’m starting a new thing where I just don’t want to ruin something for someone but I am a little hater.

I’m also so incredibly biased and not in his favor.

Also just about characters!!

So with that out of the way……

Scott!!

Honestly I think people mischaracterize him a lot. Which who cares do whatever you want forever but for the sake of this you’re wrong <3

Let’s start with 3rd life!

I don’t like how he treats Jimmy. I’m so sorry flower husband fans I totally get the appeal!! It’s like yeah Jimmy is a goof and he’s bad at stuff but like Scott doesn’t think Jimmy can do anything right. He berates him and makes fun of him to other people. He’s nice to him only for the benefit of himself, so he won’t drag down their team.

He expects his death.

Isn’t that tragic? He makes a widow’s alliance like he can’t wait for him to die. Like it’s expected. Jimmy’s not cursed yet. It’s not likely he’s going to win or anything but you can’t believe in him at all? You have zero faith he can live past you?

It’s so demeaning. It comes across as him thinking he’s better than Jimmy and I think he does believe that.

Of course in the end Scott seems pretty heart broken but the reason he doesn’t go through with his new alliance is because Cleo died.

Then we have the home scene at the end which is sweet but doesn’t make Scott any less annoying to me.

Scott never gets overcome with bloodlust which is interesting because of how many kills he has. That’s all him, no revenge, very little red/boogy bloodlust, he kills because he can.

What is the bloodlust just not strong enough for you? Too good for that too?

Okay he teams up with Pearl in last life because he hopes she will give him a life. Just for teaming up with him? And she does of course.

At least Ren had something to offer undying loyalty and willingness to die for Lizzie.

Like that’s a deal worth taking.

Pearl at least is like you gotta prove your worth somehow?

Then again he’s trying to team up with Cleo like real shit I guess, I would too. it just feels shity to me. If I was teamed with Scott I’d question whether or not he really cared about me at all.

He just comes off as selfish in any situation he can. I should probably give him a little credit, he is in a death game.

It’s the way people portray him as this guy who’s very morally superior and doesn’t play dirty.

But he’s ALWAYS playing dirty.

He’s constantly manipulating everyone around him.

He’s such an asshole to me idk

He’s telling Scar that they’re friends and allies but he never does anything for Scar or spend any time with him. Ditching him when Cleo tries to stay aligned with him after they get a life from him.

He very easily lies to whoever he wants to and gets away with it. His actions never catch up to him. He’s never held accountable and he’s constantly being rewarded for lying and manipulating the people around him.

Anyway the start of my hated journey is double life because he’s the worst in this.

I don’t understand why Cleo and Scott are so butt hurt about not finding their soulmates, it was funny though so I’m not upset about that.

When Pearl comes and finds him, he expects her to grovel like Martyn does. They didn’t really do anything wrong though? They were both properly geared up and it’s not like they were the only people trying to get recourses?

It’s nonsensical after listening to their explanation to still be upset, but they don’t listen or hear them out they just want to be begged for forgiveness.

Pearl of course was not going to do that and she of course is not innocent and antagonized him after that.

He’s not forgiven by me for what he did to Pearl for letting her win. She should have killed him.

That is not Scott’s only sin, what kinda douche builds a ranch specifically so you can make one better than your friends? The ranch by the way was also created to break up other peoples relationships while gaslighting them about that very fact.

Cleo and Scott spend all of double life trying to manipulate the different soul bounds because they are unhappy in their own.

Scott’s defining characteristic is being petty.

Limited life we have all the sacrifices he does, overdone at this point.

He’s so cocky. I feel like people miss that. He antagonizes and tries to get people to want to kill him. Which is how Scott has killed Joel so many times.

Scott is annoying so Joel will want to kill him but he keeps getting him.

In limited life specifically it’s so jabansksjsjsj

Because Joel is just trying to stay in the game longer he’s getting desperate and a little deranged and Scott just keeps killing him. I don’t how many kills but it was over kill.

Ugh and how he acts around Jimmy, like respect his boundaries. MAYBE theirs a good reason he doesn’t want to be around you, FREAK.

Keep the stupid pufferfish to yourself he’s over you!!

I get the ick or whatever

Ahem

Then he lets Martyn kill him for time and then the win and like where’s the drama???

Scott frfr would had another basic bitch ending like thank you Martyn for being the one interesting guy here.

Secret life

All of his actions became unforgivable when he didn’t let western duo team up, genuinely wanted to strangle him.

God again with the thinking you have some authority with what Jimmy does and thinking you know better than these grown people.

MAYBE some people are here for a good time, a loyal time, a fun time! Not a long time, but YOU wouldn’t know anything about that.

I appreciate the growth this time the final self sacrifice kill did have drama, but it was mostly Gem sounding genuinely devastated about killing him. (Idk know why that’s devastating I’m still upset about Jimmy and Scar not teaming)

I honestly don’t remember anything about real life really don’t count any of that as canon besides Cleo being a winner and Joel getting motion sickness really easy.

My hatred might actually be mostly the Jimmy and Scar thing and the fandoms interpretation.

I feel like he’s either worse than you think or just as bad but in a different way???

Kill the twink in your head.

[bestworstcase]

Your thoughts about Salem possibly intentionally ascending to be what is essentially a Grimm Faunus makes me think:

I wonder if Salem chose to ascend to become a Grimm because she believed Grimm were endless beings that could endure her current nightmare better than anything else. Instead, the end result of that ascension was finding out that the Grimm weren't just eternal manifestations of evil like she and many others were led to believe by the God of Light, but rather independent living creatures with their own unique morality system who could live and die like anything else. I'd imagine such a revelation would only further sour her on the God of Light, because she'd basically realize that the Grimm were just another victim of the God of Light's existential crisis.

oh i don’t think she On Purpose set out to turn herself into a grimm. for one thing, the lost fable is an unreliable narrative in a really specific way: jinn answer’s ruby’s question exactly, this is information ozpin knows or believes to be true and actively chose to hide from the kids. none of it is new information to oz—so how does he know what salem did during the parts when he wasn’t there?

salem told him.

thus, any factual incorrectness during these parts of the story must be the result of either:

salem outright lying to him, or

ozma misinterpreting what she said, or

ozma making baseless assumptions to fill in the gaps of what was (given how long ago it all was and how long she was alone) quite likely an incoherent story.

now generally speaking i believe that salem hesitated for some time before telling him of her involvement in the rebellion but otherwise told ozma the truth, because the text supports this (she “blamed the end of the world on the gods,” rightly), because she has no reason to lie about what the gods did, and because the thematic narrative requires that the lost fable be a biased account of real events, not a complete fabrication.

anyway, the point is:

If the fountain of life granted her immortality, then surely, the pools of Grimm will finally take it away… She was wrong. This force of pure destruction could not destroy a being of infinite life, so it created a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction.

jinn ascribes a specific motivation to salem’s choice to drown herself in the pool of grimm, and states that salem’s reasoning proved to be wrong. this passage, like the rest of the lost fable, articulates what ozpin believes—but i think this is his misinterpretation of something salem told him when she recounted this part of her story.

she says, “the fountain gave me infinite life. i thought the pool of grimm would take it from me.” he hears, “i was trying to kill myself.”

but what i think she meant was, “i thought the death in the pool and the life in my soul would mix together. maybe it would kill me, i didn’t know or care, but isn’t that how the brothers made us? darkness brought you back to life, and he called that creation, and i wasn’t thinking clearly because i was going insane from isolation but i thought that maybe if i sacrificed myself i could bring everyone back.”

she says, “i didn’t expect to become this, but of course one can’t destroy creation, so it changed me.” and he hears “i was mistaken, and now i’m cursed.”

because the thing is, as i’ve noted before, if you take away from an infinite quantity, an infinite quantity remains – because ‘infinite’ does not mean incomprehensibly big number, it means numberless, countless, boundless. so was salem suicidal, or was she doing math?

what happens if you take some life from infinite life? where does what is taken go?

she returned to the place where, millions of years ago, she’d seen the fearsome god of destruction claim the powers of creation as his own after bringing a dead man back to life. and then she poured INFINITE LIFE into the dark well of that god’s power which still, she’d seen, continued to birth living creatures long after the gods had gone.

what was she trying to do?

just die?

…or claim the powers of her creators in order to bring the world back to life?

the results being her own transformation plus animal people is probably not what she expected to happen, exactly, but – certainly it is an improvement over her previous circumstances and so i doubt she had any complaints, until humans proliferated and began to persecute the faunus.

the question of whether salem, in the grimm pool, did or didn’t experience ascension in the literal sense – as in, meeting the blacksmith and being given the choice to “choose for yourself one who could leave your burdens behind, or choose one who’ll be enough to bear them” – is a secondary but also interesting question.

i’m inclined to think that she did, and that’s interesting, because if true that implies salem had the chance to escape her curse – shed her old identity, leave all her memories behind, and be reborn new – and actively chose not to take it. and that’s so compelling because – why? what inspired her to refuse? to keep going? think about everything salem’s said about hope, that even the smallest spark can ignite change, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary, that hope is mankind’s greatest strength; think about how that hits if—

—these are the same picture.

and then there’s ‘the shallow sea’:

“They didn’t do anything to us,” the people on the shore called. “The water hasn’t changed us. It has washed away the lies to reveal what we’ve always been, just under the surface. Our old forms were just a shallow disguise. This is who we are.” A few dozen more people on the boat were convinced. They dropped into the ocean, and though they transformed more slowly, by the time they stepped out of the water, they, too, had become their true selves and were welcomed onto the island.

like, think about what it says about salem for this to be how she sees herself, how she conceives of her transformation – that in becoming grimm she became more herself. true, we haven’t yet gotten hard confirmation that ‘the shallow sea’ is an allegorical account of salem’s metamorphosis, but the writing is on the wall. lol.

she’s the same person as before but she isn’t human, doesn’t feel human anymore, doesn’t want to be human. certainly there is a degree of trauma and isolation and dehumanization at work here, but at the heart of it – and this is why, i think, she chose to return as herself, if she found the blacksmith in the grimm pool – is this idea that her human-self was a ‘lie.’

the brothers made humans and made certain promises to humankind – light especially presented himself as a benevolent adjudicator who invited people to come before him, pray to him, worship him. they made salem. she believed in them. trusted them.

and in the end, they destroyed the whole world to spite her. the last thing either of them said to her was to blame her for the massacre they committed (light) and mock her for “still demanding things of [her] creators” (dark) – so why would she ever consider herself human again? why would she do them the courtesy of calling herself their creation?

cause here’s the thing – notionally, they made humankind to settle their differences. to make peace with each other. humans were the symbol and seal of the brothers’ harmonious coexistence, and salem proved the lie, and then she went ‘fuck you both’ and created herself: a person, a grimm, the living breathing combination of the waters of life and death, light and darkness, that the brothers refused to intermingle. she proved them wrong.

salem is not the one who sowed division between them.

they separated creation from destruction and enforced that dividing line with horrific violence. salem is the one who, left behind in the ruin of their world, brought the sundered halves of destruction-and-creation back together to create herself, and in doing so created a new world.

she isn’t the flawed human who disrupted the delicate balance and ruined the world forever. she’s not the divider. salem is the balance. the unity of opposites. the very embodiment of what mankind was meant for!

and they hated her for it! the god of light intends to wipe out remnant from existence to punish her because she saw through his lies about how the world was meant to be and revealed the truth he’s afraid of.

and yeah grasping that the grimm are not ontologically evil is a part of that (and i have no doubt also factors in her hatred of the huntsman academies because she knows humans and grimm can coexist with each other – evernight itself is proof of that.) but i think it’s less significant than the union she achieved, exposing the lie that creation and destruction are not one and the same.