#Bones made of something that's. not quite bone

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

In the cold, towering shadows of Wayne Manor, you existed as a flicker of something forgotten, something unseen. To the family, you were a presence, but never a person—a thing that was always there, never quite needed, but always expected to be. It was a strange kind of loneliness, one that settled deep within your bones. It wasn’t hate, not outright. But it was neglect, a neglect that twisted and shaped itself into something far more sinister.

Bruce, with all his focus on Gotham’s endless darkness, had never known how to be a father in the way you needed. He loved you, he cared for you in his own way, but it was a cold, distant love, one born out of obligation. He made sure you had everything you needed: food, clothes, shelter. But that was all it was. There was no warmth in his touch, no kindness in his words. Every time he passed by, his gaze barely brushed over you, and you would hold your breath, hoping for just a second of acknowledgment, a second of care that never came. But you learned quickly—Bruce didn’t have time to see you. His world was bigger than you, and in his eyes, you were just a small piece of the puzzle. You weren’t a person to be loved and cherished. You were a responsibility. A duty. He never once sat down with you to hear how your day went, or how you felt. If you wanted attention, you had to earn it. If you needed comfort, you had to wait for him to decide you were worthy of it.

Dick, who was always smiling, always so eager to please, had a different kind of neglect. He wasn’t cold like Bruce, but he wasn’t present either. Dick was always somewhere else, wrapped up in his own world. He’d sweep into the room with his wide grin, maybe a pat on the head, maybe a quick word here or there. But his affection never reached past the surface. It was the kind of love that only showed up when it was convenient, when it didn’t get in the way of his own life. He would hug you, but it was quick, fleeting, as though his attention was already elsewhere. Sometimes you would stand there for minutes, waiting for him to notice you, to actually see you, but the longer you waited, the more you realized it wasn’t going to happen. Dick wasn’t truly there, not in the way you needed him to be. He never asked you how you were doing, never checked on you when you were quiet for too long. You weren’t worth his time unless it was easy, unless it was convenient. And as time passed, you learned that his love was always on his terms, and you were always left waiting for the moments that never came.

Tim, who was so intelligent and sharp, didn’t understand you at all. He looked at you like a problem to solve. There was no tenderness in his eyes, no softness in his voice when he spoke to you. His way of showing care was to ask you if you’d eaten, or if you were okay, but there was always a sense that he was doing it out of routine rather than genuine concern. If you showed signs of needing more than the bare minimum, he’d get frustrated, annoyed even, as if your needs were an inconvenience. You weren’t allowed to be a bother. You weren’t allowed to be human. Tim loved you, yes, but it was the love of someone who didn’t know how to love. He saw you as an extension of his world, not a person in your own right. Your silence was met with frustration, your sadness met with impatience. He didn’t have time to comfort you; he had cases to solve, problems to fix. You were a task to him, a thing to be checked off and moved on from.

Jason’s love was the most painful of all. It wasn’t outright cruel, but it was laced with a sharpness that cut deep. Jason would pull you close when you needed him the least, but when you needed him the most, he would turn away. His love came in flashes, in moments of brief connection that would burn brightly before fading into coldness. He wasn’t able to offer you the consistency you craved, the stability that your heart so desperately needed. When he did notice you, it was often in a sharp, harsh way—his anger spilling out, his guilt over his own brokenness feeding into his care for you, but it was a broken care. It was as if he wanted to protect you, but he couldn’t figure out how without making you feel like a burden. His love was suffocating, overbearing, because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. But that was his problem, wasn’t it? His love was for himself, his need to fix something broken, and not for you. He loved you with the intensity of a man trying to fix his own past mistakes, but never once did he pause to think if you needed that love, or if it was too much to carry.

Damian’s neglect came in the form of indifference. You didn’t exist in his world. His eyes would slide over you like you were nothing more than a fixture in the background. He had no patience for anything that wasn’t him, no time to stop and listen to your needs. When he did interact with you, it was always with an air of superiority. He would demand your attention, but when you needed his, he was too proud to offer it. His love wasn’t love at all—it was control. He wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into his idea of what you should be. He never bothered to learn who you truly were, who you were beyond the title of "his sibling." To him, you were just an extension of his father's empire, not a person in your own right. His love came with expectations, and if you didn’t meet them, he would ignore you, push you further away. His neglect was harsh and unapologetic. It wasn’t even something he noticed, because in his eyes, he was right. And you were just supposed to be there.

Cassandra and Stephanie, who had seen pain in their own lives, understood loneliness, but they couldn’t reach you in the way you needed. Cassandra, though she understood the language of silence, was too quiet herself to break the walls you had built. She couldn’t reach into your soul the way you needed, couldn’t make you feel like you were more than just a shadow. Stephanie tried, she really did. She was always the bright one, the one who pulled you into her light, who tried to make you laugh, tried to be the friend you didn’t have. But it wasn’t enough. Her love was more like a mask, something to keep up appearances, something to show that she cared—but deep down, you knew it wasn’t the kind of love you needed. It was temporary. It was the kind of love that lasted only as long as it was convenient, and when the days became long, when the nights became cold, Stephanie’s love faded into the background like everything else.

Duke, the newest addition to the family, wanted to be the one to fix things, but he was just too late. He saw the cracks in the family, the way you were pushed aside, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight against the currents that had already shaped you into something else. His love was genuine, but it was too new, too fragile to make a difference in the sea of neglect that had already swallowed you whole. He wanted to protect you, wanted to be the person you could rely on, but he couldn’t find a way to break through the walls of hurt that had built themselves around you.

They all loved you, in their own way. But love, when it’s cold, distant, and inconsistent, becomes a weapon. Love, when it’s mixed with neglect, becomes emotional abuse. It isn’t always harsh or violent. It’s quiet, hidden in the silences, in the moments where your needs go unrecognized. It’s in the way they forget you, in the way they act as though your pain is just a passing inconvenience. It’s in the way they only notice you when it suits them, when they remember that you’re there, when it’s time to check off the box of “care.”

You weren’t hated. But you were forgotten. And in the shadows of Wayne Manor, where the world’s greatest heroes lived, that silence was the loudest thing you could ever hear.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 5

Trigger Warnings: Breaking bones, angst

Deep screams filled the room for over an hour. Chan's bones were being re-broken all over again because his wounds hadn't healed. Y/N could hear Jaehee upstairs snapping his bones and she hated it. It made her angry and emotional. "Make it stop." Y/N cried into Hyunjin's chest who held her tightly. He tried to block out the crunching sounds from upstairs as Minho and Jeongin held Chan down, knowing the alpha would likely fight out of instinct, especially now that they were mated.  "It's nearly done. She's nearly done." Hyunjin whispered in her ear. His hands were wrapped around her ears like a child who was afraid of fireworks. "Hyunjin. You need to go up there." Minho stated as he came down. Hyunjin saw the worried look on Minho's face and let Y/N go. Y/N stood there, tears streaming down her face as she looked at Minho who was whispering to Hyunjin about something to do with burning his wounds. "Come here," Minho called as he opened his arms, allowing the elder to consume her. His scent overwhelmed her. "Let's go and talk." Minho offered, hoping it would distract her but the female wolf was petrified. "No," Y/N whispered as she listened to her alpha's screams. Her ears focused on the horrors that encapsulated his room. She could hear Jeongin telling Hyunjin to blind him. She could hear Jaehee telling Hyunjin to hold him down while Changbin held his legs. She hadn't even noticed her beta in that room. She could hear Jaehee's steady hands on Chan's leg as she made a slow break. Snapping his leg one last time. The sound reminded her of a Christmas cracker. It was a quick painful snap.

Minho picked up Y/N and carried her towards his car. He put her in the front seat before climbing into the driver's side. Y/N didn't understand what was going on but put her seat belt on. "Jaehee needs to stabilise Chan to start the healing process but she can't do it if you're in the house. You two are bound together and she needs Chan to focus, but he won't be able to if he knows you're in the house." Minho explained as he pulled off the driveway to drive down the road. "We're going to pick up Felix and Seungmin, they are at Felix's mum's house," Minho explained. "Felix is at his mum's!" Y/N's eyes went wide as she looked at Minho who nodded, his eyes focused on the road. Y/N realised then she didn't quite know much about their family and if they had a close relationship with them. Chan and Hyunjin were the only two she knew something about. "I'm not angry at you Y/N." Minho blurted out as he drove down a country lane. He wanted to take the longer root so he could talk to her. "I care a lot about you and I always will-" "I am really sorry. I am Min." Y/N interrupted. Minho shook his head, taking one hand off of the steering wheel to squeeze her hand. "I know you are. I forgive you. I do. It. It hurt what you said, but it's in the past. I want to move on from this, but I need you to force me to listen without being hateful." Minho stated. He was honest with his words but he had good intentions. He wanted them to move on together and do better as a couple and as a mate. They both knew their mistakes but they needed to clear the air. Y/N listened to his words and accepted them. She wanted to make him feel more loved which he appreciated without telling her he was massively in love with her. He wasn't ready to tell her yet, but he will. Minho had a plan to confess and he wanted to make it special, but for now, he diverted the conversation, talking about his upbringing. 

Minho was an only child who came from a relatively small pack, it wasn't until he was older that he spent most of his days with the elders, learning how to be one. Minho was never destined to be in a wolf pack, only to uphold the werewolf laws and lores. It was only coincidental that he fell into Chan's pack, through a friend of a friend. Y/N sensed it was more because of Minho not being an alpha that he didn't want to join a pack. Y/N kind of got a snippet into Minho's feelings towards not being an alpha and it bothered him. The elder status allowed him to overpower head alphas and any werewolf but being in a pack slightly restricted him and that's what bothered him. "I'm going back to work as an elder tomorrow," Minho admitted sadly, but their was a hint of excitement in his voice. "What?!" Y/N said, her heart dropping slightly. That meant there would be no one home. What do I do then? Why is everyone leaving me? "I was supposed to go back months ago but you arrived so I postponed it. but don't be upset little wolf, you can come with me so you aren't alone. Once I feel safe enough and vetted the wolves I work with you can come with me." Minho promised as he pulled up to a busy street, beeping the horn slightly.

Y/N watched Seungmin leave the house and jog towards the car with a grin on his face. Minho put the window down so Seungmin could see her. "Hello, beautiful. Omg!" Seungmin gasped, his eyes glowing an amber colour as he looked at Minho who nodded his head. "You're a claimed woman now. " Seungmin said possessively but there was a hint of sex radiating in his voice as he looked at her. He wanted to claim her. His need to mate with her sparked there and then. "Is Felix ready?" Minho asked, pulling the beta out of his thoughts. "Oh. No. He asked if you wanted to come in for a bit." Seungmin pulled open the elder's door, beckoning him out. "Have you told her?" "No. Um." Minho turned towards Y/N awkwardly, "there's something different about Felix's family. I'll explain later but try not to judge them when you go in alright?" "Of course. I won't say anything." Y/N promised she was curious but at the same time wanted to be respectful. Y/N had no reason to judge after what she went through so why would she judge Felix's family? They were important to him so that meant they where important to her.

Y/N out of the car, giving Seungmin a hug first who embraced her, sniffing her neck possessively before taking her hand. They followed Minho in who called out to them letting them know he was there. Y/N followed in and took her shoes off respectfully. Seungmins hand still entwined with hers as they walked into the small kitchen where Felix was laughing with his two sisters. Y/N slightly stumbled back as she caught a whiff of their scent. They were human. Seungmin gave Y/N a squeeze reminding her of what Minho said, but Y/N couldn't help but stare blankly at the two females. "Oh Hi, Minho." A dark brunette-haired woman who looked slightly older than Felix stood up to give Minho a hug. Y/N looked over at Felix whose smile dropped from his face. He didn't look happy about her being there, it was written all over his face. "Who is this? I'm Olivia. This is my sister Rachel." Olivia said with excitement as she gave Y/N a hug throwing her off. Y/N had never been around humans, it made her slightly uncomfortable and agitated, but she was trying her best to be polite. "This is Y/N. She's mine and Minho hyung's girlfriend." Seungmin said quickly as he realised Felix wasn't going to say anything. "Oh. I didn't know. Aish. You should have said something earlier." Olivia gushed, hitting Felix as she looked over at Minho who gave an awkward grin. "It's alright. I told him not to, we didn't know how people would react." Minho said as he pulled Y/N towards him so he could wrap his arms around her waist. Y/N felt the air get heavier and she felt like she was struggling to breathe, but tried to compose herself as her stomach dropped. She felt embarrassed and upset, but also tried to remind herself if they were human they may not even know about werewolves. Still, Y/N couldn't help the disappointing feeling that aroused in her stomach at Felix's ignorance towards her. It hurt but Y/N had to be patient as she was sure there was a good reason for this. She trusted Felix. "You know polyamory is rather popular now, because of that film. Oh. What was that film called." Olivia asked her sister who shrugged her shoulders, clearly not wanting to draw attention to it as Rachel noticed the thick tension that grew in the room. "Still, Felix you should have told me about Seungmin being polyamorous." Olivia chided. "It's not my business what Seungmin and Minho hyung do in their spare time," Felix said plainly, causing Y/N to squeeze Minho's hands. Minho could feel her sadness and wanted to take her back home but he didn't want to be rude as Felix's sisters were so excited. "Well anyway. I'll make us all a drink and you can tell us how you met." Olivia said causing Felix to tense. It was going to be a long afternoon and Y/N had no idea what to even talk about.

Taglist for the iconic readers

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627 @tsunderelino @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @hyunmikim @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx

[sulatni-flerida11]

flames

inspired by wild life session 5 + some headcanons of the fandom :]

The moment Jimmy hears thunder strike – not from the wild card of the session, but from a fallen player – the joy that fills him quickly turns into something… burning. It doesn’t hurt, (in fact, it’s very pleasant), but he’s surprised about the sudden change. His teammates can’t offer him any advice about it, and he doesn’t dare to ask Grian at the moment as he’s still grieving.

He comes to the next person “best at handling problems” he knows, who also happens to be the one “best at handling fire.”

The sudden concentration of heat outside his not-so-flammable-anymore base made Tango raise a brow. The session is over, and though he can think of reasons to be on the receiving end of arson from this session, he doesn’t know why anyone would bother.

“Tango?” a familiar voice calls out. “Are you here, or?...”

He calls back as he fixes his belongings, “Hey Jimmy.” He hopes his smile is audible. His soft spot for the avian never faded away since they were soulbound, and they’re both sure whatever they’re feeling for each other has nothing to do with that mechanic.

“Could I… Mind giving me advice?”

“Give me a sec, hold on –” Tango finally secured his goodies from the Trivia Bot.

He walks out to greet Jimmy, (though he is also a bit confused as to why the other didn’t just walk in). “What do you need, songbird -”

He stops in his tracks.

Jimmy’s feathers are burning.

“What –” Tango approaches quickly, waving his hands around as an attempt to pat the flames down.

Jimmy laughs. “Tango, that’s unnecessary -”

“It’s unnecessary?” Tango feels himself heat up in anger directed at whoever caused this. “Jimmy, who am I killing next session -”

“You literally can’t do that. You’re green. I’m the one that needs the kill.”

“Then who am I helping you kill next session -”

“Tango!” Jimmy moves to grab Tango’s arms, and the latter moves away quickly.

“I’m running hot right now, Jim. You don’t want to touch me -”

“The flames don’t hurt me anymore.”

That stops Tango. “What?”

Jimmy flaps his wings, showing how the fire on the tips of the feathers continues to burn brightly. Even the few feathers on his face have sparks, and Jimmy isn’t flinching a single bit. Little puffs of smoke come out of it, similar to Tango’s flame of hair (if you can even call that hair).

Moving again, Jimmy finally grabs Tango, who snaps out of his shock the moment physical contact is made. His immediate reaction was to pull away, but Jimmy keeps his grip firm but gentle.

“I… I don’t think I’m quite a canary anymore.”

Slowly, his golden feathers envelope both of them. Tango watches carefully, instincts telling him to run, run, you’ll hurt him, but no signs of pain reveal themselves on Jimmy’s face.

“You’re like… a phoenix now,” Tango whispers in awe. The golden feathers look molten and bright with the fire, warmth seeping into his bones despite already being warmer than usual.

“Seems like it,” Jimmy laughs once more, and void Tango wishes to capture the vision in front of him for life. “I came here to ask how you handle your fire, since you were born with it and all, but…”

He motions between them, the gap closer than ever before without fire resistance potions now they don’t have to be cautious about Tango’s heat.

“... this is nice,” Jimmy finishes with a smile.

“Aww,” Tango groans fondly, “I don’t want to let go of you now. Mind me stealing you from your team?”

Jimmy slaps him lightly on the chest, “Don’t you dare! Unless you want Scar to come here and destroy your base again.”

“Fair.”

The two laugh, enjoying each other’s company and warmth.

[yanderefarm]

......cultist noemie x eldritch god type reader

now you're the tentacle monster...

im picturing it like you disguise yourself as a normal person, you wear the skin of a cult leader by day and by night you indulge yourself in feasting on your sacrifices. one night noemie sneaks in because he wants to ask for your help with some feelings he's been having only to watch as your human body snaps and twists and disfigures, bones cracking and skin splitting into mouths, thick slimy tendrils spill in every direction. your form is expansive and somehow compact, everywhere and nowhere, you span across infinity and you collapse into singularity. looking at you literally feels like it's tearing his mind apart as he tries in vain to grasp your unknowable existence. he screams in pain alerting you to his presence so you very quickly reshape into your human form.

"oh... little lamb what are you doing here?"

he's on the ground clutching his head.

"father im sorry im sorry I didn't mean to-"

you let out a heavy sigh and gently pet his hair.

"it was quite disgusting wasn't it...? it's ok I'll free you from your pain."

before you can kill him though he looks up at you crying.

"father you're so beautiful."

you stare down at him, taken off guard.

"... why did you come here lamb?"

"i... i wanted your help with these feelings im having i... i needed your guidance. but my lust and envy seems so trivial in the face of your beauty."

you pressed a hand to his forehead. you could see his mind flooded with desire and anger and greed all of it directed at you. your loyal little follower has been crushing on you for a while now and he's getting jealous every time you give anyone else attention. and oh man did your real form awaken something in him. it's really cute.

"did you really like it so much?"

"yes!! it was so beautiful and amazing I wanted to look at you forever."

"if i made it so you could..."

"please! please. can i please..."

you chuckled at how eager he was.

"open your mouth little lamb... I'll turn you into a bride."

[lewdlepoodle69]

Um Jammer Jammy from Parappa The Rapper :)

In a spur of the moment I decided to open a project today that had been collecting dust since September (but it feels longer than that because I started it in July) and it just so happened that I was able to finish it, since all the emotional attachment I had a couple of months ago which had made me rage quit it had dissapeared. 

I don't know how to feel about this one quite yet. It doesn't feel like I've finished it, so much as I don't know what else I can do with it; and it lacks that satisfaction of finishing. I haven't dabbled too much in warmer compositions to be confident in them so I'm just like... sure, I don't know. I think I'm just going to have to sit with it for now. Lammy herself is nice though; I really like how I've drawn her hair.

On to something new eventually!

External Stuff:

-I didn't design the Signalis Playstation CD, it's by @namedr ! Their stuff's great! Check 'em out!

-Jamie Paige - Bittersweet

-Barton Fink - If You Know

-June LaLonde - Headjack

-Whale - All Disco Dance Must End In Broken Bones

[cryptid-killjoy]

Everything was going wild. Everything seemed fun and pretty typical until they couldn't decide if they should try and cover up the body or not. The Laveaus weren't the types to let a little crash and burn disrupt their fun. It was all part of it. Anywhere else they understood the usual rules though. They knew the aftermath murder code. Autopilot had a way of taking over. Still, if they could get away with not doing things the methodical way they'd take the out.

Scout was focused on her phone waiting her dad's answer out. Grinding someone down and eating them up was a messy and time consuming task. If they could get out of it they'd like to know for sure. Logic was telling them maybe in Feral where rules were lax it might just be okay to not go through the usual precautions. They also didn't want to do anything wrong and upset their hosts either. They just weren't used to the Feral rules, if there were any.

While all these converstions were going on between Koda, Chip, and Dale, and Jetsam not giving two shits all hovered over the stranger digging one of their eyes right out of it's sockets. Old habits died hard. He might have been dead but he noticed they were a cool color and couldn't help but want to harvest them as if he might add them to the collection he didn't have anymore. Maybe he'd start a new one?

"Weenie-balls." He was laughing. "That's the name of my new collection. I'll get a new set every Halloween. Keep 'em at your place, Chipper."

Scout broke in, "I can do it. I can keep them for you, Dad." She was trying so hard to be a part of it still wanting to be a part of his life as she watched Jet shove the wet thing into Chip's hand.

Then there was Koda who was trying to hold up under Chip's arm since he'd just been through a wreck. Chip was also still in slow-mode. Zombie-ish mode. His reflexes weren't back. He was looking at Scout like he wanted to respond but nothing was coming out. Jetsam took his silence as a yes because his hand held onto the eyeball unable to do much more quite yet.

Then there was GoGo. She came in and Dale was gazing at the sky when she came in out of nowhere and Smack!

Incoming.

Thack!

"Hey?!"

GoGo went off. She was practically barking at him. She kept going.

Dale's sore arms went up trying to protect himself but it was too late. She'd already hit him before he managed to sheild himself at all. A bloody third WOMP.

"Damn it!" Dale's body rolled and cringed away ready to jump up and ... and do... do something... he wasn't sure what... stop her he supposed but she stopped herself as he managed to roll over onto his side.

Scout stared at her as Dale managed to push himself off the ground holding his ribs, covered in the dismembered arm's splattered blood, and got his feet. It happened so fast. It had every hair on the back of her neck standing straight up. Then GoGo even yelled it out. Something about loss. It was bone chilling.

Once Dale was on his feet he limped over, red faced, wide eyed.

Dale's initial reaction was anger. Pain and anger.

Then he saw her face.

Okay, maybe he was still angry, but fuck. Then he just pushed through the pain, stormed through it actually. He hadn't wanted to move at all. The adrenaline had made him jump up and next when he saw her face, he rushed forward and forced a hug on her.

"Fuck you. Are you trying to finish me off, GoGo?"

Damn, the hug hurt. Yelling hurt. Breathing hurt. He didn't care. He squeezed her in.

"Fuck you so hard."

He groaned over her shoulder, "You push me away. I'll squeeze harder. So fuck right off. I'm staying here."

All Scout could see was the fragility of human life, something she wasn't anymore. It was scarier than it used to be. It was the sort of subject she never thought about until her family fell apart. They used to feel so indestructible. Thomas built it back up so strong. She wasn't sure what this feeling was watching her brother and GoGo. Next to them was her zombie bit brother touched by death who caused the crash. Next to them was her actually dead parental who she'd been dying to see for years now, missing him, and conflicted feelings were still stirring. She watched him not pay attention fully focused on gouging out that second retina from the socket.

Before she could get much deeper in those thoughts her phone went off and Thomas's text came in. It shook her back to the present.

"Okay guys. Dad says it's not a big deal to just dump it here. GoGo's probably right. We can just blame it on a zombie. Looks like we don't have to take the time out for disposal here. We're good guys." She said taking the lead on the situation which under normal circumstances would have been a much bigger situation had they been anywhere else.

Jetsam stood up with his second eyeball in his hand grinning, "Told ya guys. Fuck it all." Then he kicked the corpse's eyeball-less head.

She saw Koda looking behind him and she gave him a little peace sign with her fingers, bursting the bubble with her tongue. She watched her own rearview mirror and playfully moved to swerve next to the VW, her open window meaning that she could reach across and ruffle Dale’s curls.

After that, GoGo sped on ahead, feeling her groove the same way that Kuzco did when he had a guitar in hand, the same way that Valerie did with a microphone, the same way that Delta did when she had her wings out, the same way Frank did as he kicked at a suspended reporter, making his body sway on the hooks while he read.

GoGo had been a girl who fell in love with cars, a real engine geek, and didn’t have much love left over for people. Not even her family. Once it was clear that they weren’t going to understand her, that they were going to try to dictate her life as if she was anyone else, she had given up on them. They became roommates. They didn’t do family dinners, or going out together, or even celebrations of birthdays.

It had taken a while for the Laveaus to permeate through that. It wasn’t even as if Go-Go had big walls up, the way that Elsa did, trying to protect herself or thinking that she was protecting others. She just hadn’t even realized that there was a door that they could even knock on. But it had opened and - now, she couldn’t imagine a world without them, the same way she couldn’t imagine a world without cars.

Loud music coming out of stereos, the noises blending together during the split seconds that they were near one another. Her eyes would dart over to see who it was, and would make faces over at Scout if it was her, and then would chuckle to herself. Her heart was beating with the engine, almost feeling like they were one. As she went up in speed, plowing through a zombie or two, only flipping on the windshield wipers as her reaction, she thought to herself, ‘This is better than masturbating.’

Unlimited speed. No cops. No sirens. No one telling her to slow down. If someone got in the way, hit them. This is just what the Autobahn must be like.

The sounds of gunshots weren’t even unwelcome. They echoed through the empty streets, with no one looking out windows, or running for cover. They would be heard up from the tower, where Frank and Delta were busy, but weren’t bothering them much either. As long as it wasn’t pointed towards them, or their people, Frank didn’t give a fuck. He was too deep in … well, a fuck.

She would have kept going when Dale was out of the window, but realized a moment or two later when there weren’t any more headlights in her rearview mirrors. Curiously, she turned her own car around and encroached on the scene. She had her own window down and climbed out through her window, exactly like Dale had been sitting when he had been ejected.

It was rough seeing Dale laying on the ground, like a piece of roadkill. It was rough seeing Chip behind the crumpled hood of the car, the windshield broken, pieces of glass. It triggered something in her. She couldn’t move for a moment. It felt like she was underwater. She could just about hear the garbled voice of Dale talking to Scout, and Chip’s eyes being open as Koda got him out of the car.

Tadashi. The outline of him, the silhouette, against the fire as he had run in like he thought that he was fireproof. Like he was immortal. Like he was a goddamn hero. The situations were different but the feelings were the same in that moment, a clenching around her heart and her stomach, a sense of loss. Everyone was, thankfully, preoccupied with the twins and the body and texting while she had her moment or two of panic before she felt like she was able to breathe again.

She wasn’t thinking the clearest though. She climbed off of the car door, walking around the glass-littered ground, the blood-soaked asphalt in her bare feet, and approached Dale, still on the ground. The panic was still in her eyes, the tenseness of her bones, all of it. And what she did was lean down and gave Dale’s head a smack.

“You don’t get to come close to dying, do you hear me?” She said, and then realized that her own little hand was barely going to do anything to Dale’s head, not through those curls anyway. She took a short march towards the dead body, picked up an arm that had been driven over, detatched at the shoulder, and then used that arm to hit Dale again. “You stupid, egg-headed shitpuddle!”

After hitting him a third time with the arm, she threw it down and then ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her face to try to calm herself, taking deep breaths. “I’m not losing another friend,” She said in a quieter tone this time. It was only then that she seemed to realize what she had done. That there was a detatched arm beside her that had been attached to a body only seconds ago. She leaned down and then wiped her hand on Dale’s shirt because she wasn’t going to do it to her own dress.

While this was happening, Scout’s phone would get a text. Thomas was paying attention to his drunk wife, but also to his phone because he had meant what he had said when he offered to pick Ches up, all she had to do was text. Same with Scout, but that went without saying.

‘If Chip doesn’t want to eat it, I’m sure just tossing it into a sewer or something is fine? Just don’t leave a big mess.’

Go-Go was coming down from that short-lived panic attack. It hadn’t gone full blown, just enough for her to go full-throttle rather than her more subdued self. She was a bit embarrassed so decided to gloss over what she had just done rather than address it, and move onto the next topic.

“If anyone asks, zombies did it?”

[saphig-iawn]

Milking Her Mind Away

Since playing with her body and entwining it in my ribbons, a doll wanted to explore hypnosis with me further.

She was so inspired by so many things that we ended up having quite a list of things to possibly do, and that list is continuing to grow.

But she did decide on something, inspired by another session I did with a doll of mine, cow girl transformation.

She prepared a little outfit, a cow girl bikini stop with cow print armlets, and a cute black skirt. She had cute little cow ears and horns, and a beautiful cow print collar complete with bell.

That was when inspiration struck.

My spells are things that are woven, and they can find purchase in more places than someone's mind.

I said to the doll that I was going to weave this spell into the collar.

That the moment she feels the clasp on the buckle close-

THRUM

A deep arousal will bloom inside her, and an inescapable pressure begins to build within her chest.

Then she realises that this arousal is unlike anything else, its deep, its primal, its animalistic.

Its an arousal that has no real word to describe it because the animals that feel this deep need have no words to use.

It is just there and hungry and needing and wanting

And there it was again.

The look on the doll's face that I've come to adore.

The look of realising the power of my spell and that the point of no return is rapidly diminishing in the rearview mirror of her mind.

Perhaps when I turn her into a statue or a portrait I'll have her face held in this expression.

But the dam of self restraint within her is creaking, its groans felt deep in her bones. It can't be ignored, and it won't be. Animals operate in impulse after all. A stimulus causing an unstoppable domino run.

Her eyes darted about in the middle distance, unfocused. She's not animal, she's a person, she shouldn't be feeling this in such a raw way, but the mental gymnastics did precious little to answer why she had these basest urges ravaging her mind and her body.

Her breath was quicking, her hands were grasping and pawing needily.

She felt a precipice approaching but her words were beginning to melt in her mind. She would try to snatch something, anything to say but the words crumbled into letters and the letters into sand that fell between her fingers.

But my spell gave her something to say, something succinct, something perfect as the precipice was at her doorstep.

I could see what needed to happen dawning in her eyes, but her mind wouldn't have said it so eloquently, nor using any words because her mind only offered one thing...

To moo...

Her mind became a passanger as the cow within her began to take control, the performance of her humanity falling off her skin like satin.

Gripping her at her chest she finally mooed.

She bucked and arched in the beauty of its simple power.

She clawed at her skirt and top to start milking.

There was no mistaking that was what she was doing. All of those pesky words were now dripping out of her udders, so she couldn't even know the words for getting off.

Every stroke extracted a moo from her heart. Every moo made the arousal deeper and ravenous.

What was so beautiful was seeing her as she was on all fours milking herself.

You could see those little moments where her personality would try and shine through, like she'd spot the camera and pull a sexy face, but then her eyes would glaze over and the tongue she held out in cheekiness would hang loose as she milked just that little bit harder.

Slowly, those flashes of her would soften and wane until she was just a mindless cow, mooing and milking.

She made such a sweet batch of milk for me, and the poor thing was so spent she was barely able to hold herself up afterward.

We wound down our session with a little dollification, helping her roiling mind calm into stillness as I tended to her body.

While I adored her mindless cow girl face, seeing her so poised and focused, like a freshly sharpened blade was exquisite.

Yes-

I think I know what I'm going to do with her next.

She will look so pretty in porcelain.

(This writing is about a real hypnosis session with real hypnosis and real people. If you would like to see more writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and have your own piece of writing just like this!)

[maracujatangerine]

90. Restless Night

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe, cursing

Coriander was lying curled up in its own bed. The curtains drawn against the deepening night outside.

The pet’s whole body ached with exhaustion, but still, it couldn’t sleep. The bone-deep fatigue awaking memories of old, bad times.

Every time it tried to fall asleep, its body would start violently awake. Each time destroying any and all progress the pet had made on the way to unconsciousness. It was extremely frustrating.

It heard steps outside the door. Then, the gentlest of knocks.

“Cory?” Miss Lydia sounded hesitant, her voice low. “Is there anything you need? Would you perhaps like something to eat?”

The pet knew that if it just uttered the words, Miss Lydia would come and sit by it, as she had so many times before. It could almost feel the dip of the mattress as she would sit down, the comforting warmth of her body next to the pet, the soothing feeling of her hands gently carding through its hair and caressing its back and shoulders. The pet’s tense muscles would relax then, as if bespelled. Her mere presence would work like a sleeping spell, lulling the pet into dreamland.

Coriander longed for it. Miss Lydia’s presence, and sleep, in equal measure. But the pet couldn’t ask for it.

It was still so. fucking. angry.

…and upset… and scared… and not being a good pet… and sad… and ashamed… and regretful… and exhausted… and in pain… and confused… and still, so angry.

The very reason her presence would affect it, was the same reason it had panicked in the hospital. In this dark moment, the pet thought it might be the same reason it did anything at all. They had shaped it, moulded its responses, formed its actions, to be whatever its owner desired.

The pet considered just pretending to be asleep, but when Miss Lydia didn’t leave, Coriander finally replied.

“N-no, Miss Lydia. This pet just wants to sleep.”

She stood still for a moment outside the door, the pet could imagine her laying her hand against its surface.

“All right, Cory. I will be downstairs if you need anything.”

She tried hard to sound like every other night, but the pet knew her too well. It could hear the undertones of worry and sadness in her voice. After another moment of silence, Miss Lydia slowly turned and walked away.

*

Thank you all for comments, and reblogs, and likes! I really appreciate you all taking the time! 💖

If you are new to this story, the tale of Lydia and Coriander starts here. There’s quite a lot of it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it! ☺️

I also have another, shorter story in the works that focuses on hero vs villain themes. You can find that here.

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[varpusvaras]

If someone ever asked Roy what Jason reminded him of, he would've said a cat.

A big, black, fluffy cat that would pretend to not even notice you for half a day, but would then proceed to flop right on top of you when you least expected it and leave you coated in fur.

A very cute, big, black, fluffy cat, of course, if Roy was being precise.

Yeah, that was his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, who was currently curled up on the bed like he truly was the cat he so reminded Roy about, his face pressed against Roy's thigh. Combined with the dimness of the room, it was almost enough to hide the fact that there was a large, nasty bruise covering half of Jason's face at the moment.

Almost.

"How did you even manage to get this?" Roy asked. It was mostly a rhetorical question at that point, just whispered out loud, because it was in the middle of the night and Jason was definitely ninety percent asleep already and was not going to give Roy a coherent answer. That was what one got after finishing up a two-days long mission and then deciding to instantly drive to the other side of the country, instead of staying put and resting after said two-days mission.

To be fair, if Roy was being completely honest, he did like Jason being home sooner than later. It wasn't a particularly big secret that Roy didn't hold much love for Gotham, after all, even if Jason still called the city home as much as he called their house home. He just...felt better when Jason was with him, especially after more grueling missions, and he was pretty sure that Jason knew it, even if they had never outright discussed it out loud.

Jason made a noise under his breath that quite honestly sounded like a kitten whining, and Roy had to bite his lip a little to not laugh at it. It would've been an affectionate laugh, of course, but better not risk it.

"Yeah, yeah." Roy ran his fingers through Jason's hair. "Mister always wearing a helmet. I'm gonna fix it up for you."

Jason made another noise, a softer one this time, and he settled further into the mattress as Roy continued to stroke his hair. Roy waited for a moment, then two, and when he was positive that Jason had fallen asleep, he slowly got up and made his way to the garage.

Despite being probably already bone-tired by arrival, Jason had still meticulously gone through their agreed homecoming routine. Lian knew about their identities, of course, and she was a smart girl, but all of the gear still belonged outside the main house. It had been Jason making most of the rules when it came to his own gear. He hated the thought of others touching it without his permission, and he especially hated even the idea of Lian touching it and somehow getting hurt. Sometimes it was like Jason was convinced that even looking towards any part of his gear would hurt Lian, which was something Roy felt like needed a licenced therapist to fully unpack. He did appreciate the care Jason displayed towards Lian, though, so he wasn't going to complain about it to Jason's face.

Thinking about Lian and Jason's face made Roy grimace. Jason didn't like letting Lian see him hurt, no matter how big or small. A bruise that was covering half of Jason's face was going to be hard to hide, though Roy knew that Jason would somehow be able to manage it. Painfully and by gritting his teeth, but he would.

Roy knew what it was all about. He wasn't stupid.

Roy flicked the lights on in the garage, before making his way to the cabinet Jason had claimed for himself. By this point, Roy had an open invitation to Jason's armor and weapons, as he was the only other person who knew how everything worked precisely. Roy was also pretty sure that Jason knew that Roy liked fixing things up for him, and he let him do it because it was an easier way to accept a display of affection than having to listen someone promise him everything, once again, while holding all the power to take their words back without a warning.

Roy went through the plan of action in his head while he unlocked the cabinet. He would need to fire up the workbench and get the electrical tools out in order to get the helmet fixed. Maybe he could draw up some plans how to make the front more durable while keeping it absorbant enough that it would still be the helmet taking the brunt of the hits and not Jason's head underneath it. It would take some time to figure out, but Jason would probably let him make him a new one if Roy just managed it. It would mean that the times of Jason having hard to hide-injuries would be lessened, after all.

Maybe he could manage to adjust the color, too, just to make it a little less vibrant. Roy was starting to seriously think that the helmet was beginning to act like the red capes in bullfighting, inviting more and more hits directly towards it simply because it was there. He wouldn't have been surprised if it really was so. Gotham was messed up, and the rogues playing a game of "who manages to break in the Red Hood's helmet and face first" sounded entirely plausible. This wasn't the first time Jason had come back sporting similar injuries, though usually they were either a little smaller, or Jason had had to stay in Gotham for longer and they were already fading by the time he got back.

Jason would most likely say no, though. The red was part of his brand at this point, it was meant to make an impression to anyone seeing it. Just Roy's luck that he had fallen for the theather kid who had not yet left the phase behind.

Not that Roy was ever going to say that to Jason. He was fully aware of the fact that he was the one running around with a bow, after all.

What a pair they made.

Roy smiled. What a pair, indeed, he thought, as he pulled the cabinet door open and proceeded to have Jason's helmet stare right at him from the upper shelf.

The helmet, which was very much not broken.

Roy stared at it for a good while. It was definitely the same helmet Jason had left with to Gotham. There was a small scratch on the paint, just unde the left lense, that Jason had meant to paint over but had not had the time yet. Roy had watched him pack it up with his own two eyes.

If Roy was anyone else, he would've been able to convince himself that there was probably a perfectly simple and harmless explanation. But Roy wasn't anyone else. Roy was who he was, and that was someone who had been fighting increasingly dangerous fights since he was a teenager, and who had seen harm being inflected over and over again and the marks it would leave behind.

Roy stared at the helmet. The helmet seemed to stare back at him, silently daring him to say it out loud.

Roy didn't say it. He closed the door and locked it back up, while something cold settled firmly at the bottom of his stomach.

He stood there for just a little longer, gathering himself, before he silently made his way out of the garage the exact same path he had walked in mere moments ago.

Lian was still asleep when Roy checked on her, and so was Jason when he slipped back into the bedroom. He stirred a bit when Roy laid down as well, not enough to wake up, but enough to turn towards Roy. Roy could see the bruise now in all of its glory, stretching across Jason's skin like a shadow.

Jason's hand was laying between them on the bed, and Roy laced their fingers together, gently and carefully.

Jason's hand was warm. It was enough to chase away some of the cold inside Roy, and he held onto it tightly.

[dissapointu]

“Rest for a Wrecking Ball”

You can barely keep your eyes open, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your eyelids like lead. The world around you feels a little hazy, sounds muffled, and everything seems to move slower than it should. You’ve been running on fumes for days now, barely getting enough sleep, and today it finally hits you—the crash.

Your legs are heavy, each step an effort. You’re trying to keep it together, but it’s getting harder by the minute. You’re not sure what you’re even doing anymore, just that everything feels like one big blur. That is, until a sudden burst of energy from the person beside you yanks you back into reality.

“Hey! Hey!” Jinx’s voice is sharp and full of excitement, completely opposite to the exhaustion you feel. She’s bouncing around you, all wide eyes and energy, like a whirlwind. “Are you okay? You look like a zombie! Come on, come on! Let’s go blow something up! That’ll wake you up!”

You don’t even have the strength to respond with anything other than a tired sigh. You try to walk faster, but your feet feel like they’re made of cement, and it’s like your brain has completely stopped processing anything other than the ache in your body. Jinx notices, of course. She always notices when you’re not quite yourself.

“Aw, come on!” she says, her voice uncharacteristically softer now, but still bubbling with her usual energy. She grabs your hand and yanks you toward a nearby alley, hiding you both from prying eyes. “You’re gonna fall asleep standing up, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine, Jinx,” you mutter, but the words feel like they barely leave your mouth before you feel your knees buckle a little.

Jinx’s arms wrap around you in an instant, her hold surprisingly gentle despite her usual chaotic nature. She pulls you into her, her chest against yours as she sits you down on the cold concrete. “You’re not fine,” she says firmly, her voice soft but no less determined. “You’re just really tired, and I’m not letting you pass out on the street.”

You lean your head against her shoulder, closing your eyes, and for a moment, you let yourself relax in her arms. Her usual manic energy is replaced by something a little more tender, and despite everything, you feel safe. Jinx may be a wrecking ball in the chaos of the world, but right now, she’s the calm in your storm.

“You know,” she says softly after a moment, “if you just tell me you’re tired, I’d let you rest. You don’t have to keep going like this.”

You let out a shaky breath, finally admitting what you’ve been trying to hide from everyone, including yourself. “I’m just… so tired.”

Jinx pulls you closer, her arms tightening around you as if to shield you from the world. “I get it. You’ve been going non-stop for so long, haven’t you?” she says, her voice a little more thoughtful than usual. “But you don’t have to keep up with everyone else. You’ve been running on empty for way too long, and you need to take care of yourself.”

It’s a strange thing, hearing her speak like this—so calm and understanding. Jinx, of all people, is the one telling you to rest. But she’s right. You feel the exhaustion creeping into every bone in your body, and all you want is to close your eyes and sleep for days.

“Okay,” you whisper, letting out a deep sigh of relief. You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of her presence, the only real comfort in a world that never seems to stop.

For a few minutes, it’s quiet. You’re still in Jinx’s arms, her breathing steady and comforting against yours. You almost forget about the chaos outside, the never-ending fights, and the constant pressure of having to keep up. In her arms, there’s only peace.

“Hey,” she says after a while, her voice playful but soft, “you think I can get you to take a nap in my lap?” She lightly taps your cheek with her fingers, grinning when you barely react. “I’ll take care of you, promise.”

You smile weakly, feeling the last of your energy slip away. “I trust you, Jinx.”

Her smile widens as she carefully shifts you into her lap, adjusting your head so you can rest comfortably. The warmth of her body seeps into yours as she runs her fingers through your hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. There’s a tenderness to her touch that you rarely see, and it makes the exhaustion feel a little more bearable.

The sounds of the world around you fade, and you let the weariness take over. You’ve never been one to ask for help, but in this moment, with Jinx’s soft hums filling the silence, you realize that maybe you don’t always have to. Maybe it’s okay to let someone take care of you for once.

Before long, you’re drifting into a deep, much-needed sleep, completely at ease in Jinx’s arms. And as you fall under, you can hear her whisper softly to you, “Rest, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

And in her arms, you believe her.

[raveninfog]

Secrecy.

Authors note- hi everyone! I’m pretty new to all this and this is my first shot at writing. I’ve always been a spectator, just waiting on amazing authors to update their fics to reading one shots in the middle of the night cause I can’t sleep. I’ve always had ideas in my head about how I’d write and I decided to finally give it a try. Hopefully you’d all enjoy it. Also with that being said, please don’t be afraid to give me some advice on how I can get better as time goes on. 🫶🏼

Enjoy my loves!

Warnings- flirting, light swearing, nicknames, based in the late 40s. Kissing. Sneaking around, Best friend’s older brother. Sergeant James Barnes. Reader is 20 while Bucky is 24.

Genre- Oneshot! Fluff! Best Friends Brother.

You were sitting there at the dining table with your best friend Rebecca. Working on a school project you had to finish with her for your history class. Books laid out in front of you, papers, pencils. The sound of the front door opening was heard since the dining room was right by the front door of the small home. It was him, Rebecca’s older brother bucky. He was home from the base quite early today.

You’ve had a crush on him for a while, how couldn’t you? He was a sergeant, in the military, about to go fight in the war in a couple months. That crush reciprocated from Bucky, it had seemed like he felt the same way about you too. Which later came out to be very true. So you two had a little secret, a little secret relationship..no one knew about.

Not even Rebecca.

As you saw Rebecca get up and go to the kitchen to grab some snacks, Bucky came up behind you. He knew this was the perfect time too. The kitchen wall blocked off the area of the living room you were in. Your head turning to the side to where he was as you heard him, before he leaned in and kissed your lips passionately. His lips met in a fiery clash, soft yet insistent, moving with a rhythm that spoke of longing and urgency with yours. The warmth of his touch was intoxicating, every brush sending shivers down your spine. It was the way your lips fit perfectly within his, moving in sync, that made everything else fade into the background—a perfect balance of softness and intensity, leaving you two breathless and wanting more.

His lips were pliant and eager, parting slightly to deepen the connection, to draw the you closer. There was a slight pressure, firm and deliberate, as if to imprint the moment into a memory. The sensation was both tender and consuming, each movement speaking of unspoken words, of desire that couldn't be contained.

You were caught off guard of course, especially when you had turned your head and there was your boyfriend. You felt his lips on yours, before closing your eyes and kissing him back. The way he had bent down and had his hand on the back of your head, tilted upwards to get a good angle of your perfect lips on his . The warmth of your own breath and his mingled, and the world around you two faded away, leaving only the steady rhythm of your hearts and lips together.

“Is this how you say hello?...” you whispered to him in between kisses, when you pulled away just slightly for him to capture your lips again in a split second for a moment.

You could feel him pull away, to see if Rebecca was still in the kitchen. Hell, he could hear Rebecca going through the cabinets to find snacks or something.

To his luck, she was still in the kitchen. You had felt his lips right back on yours once again without even saying a single thing to you until he had finally pulled away to speak. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumb moving onto your cheek bone and caressing it gently before his thumb slid down to your bottom lip doing the same.

His lips curled into a soft smirk, his perfect little doll he absolutely adored with all his god damn being. It was almost surprisingly how Rebecca didn’t notice her big brother look at her own best friend with love in his eyes for you.

“What else do you want? A little love tap?” He teased you as he ran his thumb against your chin now.

You finally felt him pull his hands away from you, standing up straight as he fixed his uniform and took a shuffle back just in time as Rebecca had made her way back with some tea she had made. God, Rebecca was so oblivious to the point where it felt too easy. Too easy to the point it felt god damn suspicious.

“Let’s get this project over with so we can go to bed, unless you want Bucky to drive you home Y/N.” Becca said, setting the mug of tea in front you before taking a seat in the chair. Her face having a clear look of annoyance at the papers in front of her.

Bucky turned his head, looking at his little sister because he took a glance at you and cleared his throat a little.

“Why not tell dad to drop her off?” He spoke up. It felt like torture to say that, but he knew he had to play the game of keeping the relationship a secret.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked at her older brother before snickering at him.

“Well hello to you too, Why wouldn’t you wanna drop your girlfriend off?”

“WHAT?!” You and Bucky say in sync, shock spreading on his face while your cheeks turned completely red.

“What do you mean wha- oh come on, did you guys REALLY think I was that stupid..you guys aren’t exactly the best at hiding things. Especially since you two are always making out somewhere in the damn house.”

Buckys cheeks turned red as he rubbed the back of his neck, he honestly didn’t know what the hell to say to his little sisters revelation about her knowing everything. Clearly you were embarrassed, not to mention shocked about your best friend knowing. God you knew you and Bucky weren’t ever gonna hear the end of this. Not in a bad way really, more in an annoying way where she’d bring it up at every occasion she sees.

“Uh well…I-If that’s the case then yeah..I’ll drop Y/N off…unless she’s sleeping over.” Bucky said, before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Ugh pervert..” Becca muttered in disgusted.

[gege-wondering-around]

WIP Whenever

@dontcallpanic tagged me for this and im so happy to participate! here's another sneak peek into the fia au i'm writing - maybe it's not the most exciting part, but i can't spoiler too much, can i now? (but i'm sure @patolemus may enjoy - this is your lucky week my friend, so mcuh is coming out about this work!)

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“Stiles.”   The man had been calling by his first name in the past few months, the boy didn’t really mind it happening, it felt refreshing to be respected and not called whatever name passed by the mobsters’ minds while in the training arena; with body turning around to face him, putting on a shirt long enough to reach the end of the boxers, he let out some words: “yeah, master?” He had been using that little name they’ve told him to say; not a fan. Nothing escaped the sealed lips of a stone still judge scanning the slim figure of a doll in waiting; the Hale’s underground cave of processing trainees seemed too humble for its owner and purpose, empty and naked; yet fit for how everyone who actually knew the man within described him as: a man of simple life. Stiles had never been more tempted to test people’s opinions, however something disturbed the articulated thoughts a clever mind was already forming; “why don’t you come here for a moment?”  Nothing other than oblige, bare feet made no sound of steps on the hard floor; at least he wasn’t just out the shower, with nothing on if not a towel wrapped around his hips; he knew Derek wouldn’t mind that. In a few long movements he was standing patiently with the elegance of a ballerina on stage, where was the first note of start for the dance? “Sit by my side, won’t you?”  So many questions at which Stiles couldn't actually disagree without setting back the plan… Somehow the man was never of a threatening imposition, so calm of demeanor and even more gentle in gestures; it was strange but welcomed by the boy, glad to not have to deal with a barbaric man any more than he had to during training; he had broken so many bones on that concrete pavement, a few drops of opponents’ blood were sewed in it each time after his passing. He did as he was asked, mimicking the man’s way without appearing disrespectful, and did so much willingly despite the tense posture he sporadically had whenever Derek asked him to come so close; it never felt quite right, but he accepted the hardship of endurance to avenge the caring father he had lost. He could deny the man, but denial could never fit into a full grave. “I have a question for you.” It was expected, the man had been asking many in the last week; Stiles hoped it could be about an answer that would speed up the undying plan that was eating his heart. “What’s it about?” Never once an answer of his was longer than necessary, with an everlasting flat tone with no emotion in it, and somehow the man picked him for such a molecular characteristic; there was no need to chit chat with Derek Hale about the weather. A calluses hand caressed a pale tigh, Stiles didn’t move it away but the muscles flexed in memorized response, unwillingly sharing his truest thoughts; Derek never did more than that, for a reason the boy didn’t mind digging up. He was fine, any price was manageable by the poor, as he was so even in his heart; nothing to lose. Why the man seemed to never be able to avert his eyes from Stiles’, he could never tell though; yet the hand, the touch, the feeling… Everything was never a gesture that could ever feel as threat, Derek didn’t seem to be a man of harmful pleasure, whatever enjoyment he might search from the few dolls he kept close; they were four or five, each so peculiar and deemed worthy by the wolf, yet none was ever enough to be his favorite.

Besides, it was his role to fill, he just needed to be patient and let the man open a way for him to slither into; Stiles could mold into anything and a cast just came his way to take a step further. “Would you like to be one of my personal dolls?” His words were accompanied by another sentence, much useless as Stiles would’ve said ‘yes’ without a need for anything more; “no more market training, just a bed and a stable role for you, wouldn't that be nice?”  Lips perked in a smile, fists tightened and a long exhale left rosy nostrils; Derek collected everything, stored it well and secured in the depths of a sophisticated mind, waiting patiently for an answer he already knew from the start of the day.  “Would love to if you want me.” Another part of the plan sailed for good, he achieved another inch of closure to the woman he wanted to bring down to the misery he was in, hidden so well beneath all the scheduling that the cold nights have provided him before putting his name in the list of possible dolls.  A hand held his waist in place to stick close by the man’s side; something had escaped his crafted figure of immovable doll. “Ah, here it is that smirk of yours,” Derek promptly remarked; Stiles tried to make it fall, “don’t.” He listened.

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ahh, i will add more to the chapter this comes from cause this was a big chunk of it and i feel like there wouldn't be much more in the chapter if you read this, anyway i hope you'll enjoy and i'm tagging my usuals @dontcallpanic (yep tagging you back, feel free to post more or not🩵) @patolemus @hellameyers @seaweed-water @jadezdominion @demonicfaerie

if they are interested @sterekloverforever @oldefashioned (miss you buddy)

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 14

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Claudia what the fuck are you doing? This is a whole level of stupid not even a sheltered background can be blamed for. I get why it happened, they wanted a baby out of wedlock storyline, but keeping within the story - this is just - I suddenly find myself questioning whether Claudia would know how to get through a closed door on her own accord. I do guess it does explain why we never see her in charge of the register. Girl is as bright as a rainy November night and as sharp as a plastic spoon.

Fina really not wanting to do the commercial thing. Being nervous around Marta and well, the whole idea. Her friends keep her there though. Marta not helping by being unable to let this bone lie, she instantly digs into Fina who is a stiff nervous wreck in front of the camera. Also look at Marta’s body language throughout this entire scene. Each time she's in front of Fina her arms are folded tightly across her chest in a gesture that probably is as much an attempt at intimidation as it is a subconscious protective self-hug. Looking at Fina, being around Fina, releases things she seems to want to be able to ward herself from. Unfortunately, that is not quite how physical attraction works. It’s usually very insistent and sharp enough to cut through anything you try to smother it in.

This is a Baroque painting if I ever saw one. The Suffering of Saint Bertha, patron of "no patience" and lesbians - elevated by stubborn cherubs. One of Caravaggio's lessern known works.

Marta watching Marcos with Fina like a hawk. Yeah, that thing inside her chest, you can see that it keeps picking up speed. Also, something tells me she has the ability to be spectacularly possessive under certain circumstances.

Marta’s reaction as Marcos kisses her. She doesn’t mind having her ego stroked for a bit, but that’s where the line is.

He’s a ballsy little twat though, telling Marta that he gets it, that her heart is already taken. She twirls her ring and says, “yes, my husband”. And he calls her out and says, “Fina.” With that he rocks her world entirely loose from its settings. She calls him crazy and tries to run away from him and what he says. First picking up a folder as a shield and then hiding behind the desk seeking cover. He goes on and mentions that he sees the way she looks at her, how Fina is a magnet pulling her in. He is very decent about it though, telling her that tastes are personal and should never be judged by others. I honestly love how many supportive people this world is populated with. Some right bastards too, but a lot of really supportive people. Marta however goes into a visible halt and catch fire loop and can’t even seem to come up with a response, being confronted like that, no matter what, will always make her short-circuit into a stuttering mess. Her silent face journey as he closes the door is a thing of beauty. It’s both comedic and telling. 

Yeah, the realisation that the little moustachioed fucker is right. I think her body had felt the pull, but it's probably not until this moment that there were words to express it with. I don't think she's quite ready to handle those words yet though. But now they are there, spoken out loud and tangible and made so terribly dangerous because of it.

Marta taking care of business and mediating peace between her brother and Luis. Ending up being her having to tell her dumbass brother to shut the fuck up and he does, but the damage is already done and Luis walks out the door and the company. Jesús is such an incredibly bad businessman. The fact that their company haven’t gone straight to hell already is a true testament to Marta’s business acumen. 

[slothquisitor]

Brittle Bones

Summary: In which Lucanis’s new reality sinks in and he realizes just how fucked up the team he’s now part of is. Eventual Rook/Lucanis, 2.8k.

Also on AO3.

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During his yearlong imprisonment in The Ossuary, if Lucanis had thought about freedom at all it was only in a nebulous, abstract sort of way. It had been important not to dwell, not to spend too much time on longing or hoping or wanting. He had always been taught that emotion was weakness, and he was good at emptying himself of it. He had to be. Besides, hope and optimism might have clouded his only goal: survive. 

And he had, and now he’s out, and he’s dropped back into the world, into his life, but nothing is the same. Treviso is occupied by the Antaam, Caterina is dead, Illario is unwilling or unable to see the danger they’re all in with Zara still at large. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d been told that the elven gods are not only real but that he’s expected to help kill them. And then he’d willingly followed Rook through a magical mirror to the fucking Fade. 

He asked for work, didn’t he? And this is the last contract Caterina ever made, and he never was good at telling her no. And alive or dead there is some part of him that cannot refuse. And there is a larger part of him that desperately needs this job, the reassurance that after a year and a demon, he is not so different from before. Killing Calivan, fulfilling his outstanding contract had helped somewhat, but he knows he is out of practice. That’s fine, it gives him something to focus on. So, he treats the Lighthouse like any other job. 

The first thing he does is learn the place, taking stock of his surroundings. He meticulously charts the place, peering into every room and making note of every entrance and exit. This entire dilapidated place makes the backs of his eyes itch, but a few hours later he has a mental map of every room and hallway and stair. The Lighthouse is a sprawling mess of a place, but Rook insists that they’re safe here. Which is all fine and good, but he isn’t safe anywhere. Not like this. 

His next order of business is informed by the first: his own lodgings. It’s an easy choice to settle on the pantry. Rook did tell him he could have any room, and it’s not a real room, but it is what he needs. It’s furthest away from everyone else, putting at least three doors between him and anyone else’s rooms. The door opens inward, which means he can block it, but he can’t be locked in. It’s also dark and dank and not terribly inviting. He doesn’t plan on sleeping much anyway, so it doesn’t matter if it’s comfortable. It’s better if it’s not. 

He’s doing his best to ignore Spite. Even if Spite isn’t taking very well to being ignored. Last night, he’d hit him in his temper tantrum. Lucanis is used to that, but Rook, Neve, and Bellara…they had stared at him, afraid of and for him. He won’t let that happen again. He can do this job. He can work. 

And that brings him to the biggest job of all: observation. There is plenty to learn about the other inhabitants of the Lighthouse. And it’s only been a day or so, but he’s good at watching. Harding keeps to herself, rarely emerging from her room beyond mealtimes or if she’s going somewhere with Rook. She’s clearly grieving and Neve seems to be offering her a distant sort of understanding, but there’s something else running through it that he can’t quite put his finger on. All four women are consciously and specifically kind to one another, but there’s something frail…brittle about the whole group. Every conversation he witnesses is laced with a fragility of everything they aren’t saying. 

He doesn’t trust a single one of them. It’s not that he’s concerned that he’s in immediate danger or anything, but he hasn’t survived this long through blind trust of anyone or anything. Bellara is the easiest to read, her every thought and emotion that doesn’t come through her many, many words, clearly present on her face. She’s brilliant but easily distracted, and he’s noticed the way Neve tenses whenever Bellara fawns over her, the way her smile grows just a little forced. And then there is Rook. 

Under all the bluster of humor and sarcasm lies her poorly concealed secret: she’s overwhelmed at being somehow in charge of all of this. She’s quick to take responsibility for her hand in releasing the gods, though it sounds as though allowing this Solas to continue with his ritual was probably going to be worse. Probably. She also clearly feels responsible for the cuts and bruises on Neve’s face, but no one is talking about it. He can tell he’s right by the way they don’t talk about it. Even so, Rook’s quick to laugh and faster to smile even through her clear and persistent worry as she tries to buoy up everyone else’s mood. It takes Lucanis less than a day to conclude that this whole group of women are holding each other together with the tremulous threads of hope and a shared cause. 

He’s a mess himself, so he’s not exactly in a position to judge. 

“You have files on everyone?” he asks, sifting through the pile of papers Neve handed him when he walked into her office. He suspects that these are the public files, the ones left where anyone could read them. The real ones she’s probably keeping better hidden. Probably encoded too. But still, what she thinks is safe to share will still tell him much about this new team of theirs. 

Neve doesn’t trust him. But that feels right. He wouldn’t trust him either. Neve’s distrust at least feels familiar. She is calm, collected, and distant. She’s being nice to him despite the clear distrust, and unlike other inhabitants of the Lighthouse, she hasn’t threatened to kill him yet. At least Spite is quieter in her office, he suspects it has something to do with the wisps.  

Neve doesn’t even look up from the notebook she’s writing in. “Of course.”

He opens up his own file, curious what she’s learned. Most of it is the basics: the structure of the Crows, the Talons, and his relation to Caterina. But then there’s a list of his jobs in Tevinter. One in particular catches his eye. “I didn’t think anyone knew about the hit on Magister Dravenus.”

Neve looks up then, mouth twisting in a wry smile. “Not everyone knew that he was part of the Venatori.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Her smile widens. “He was three days dead before the murder was reported. That gave his slaves time to get to the Shadow Dragons. Not many assassins give a shit about a magister’s slaves.”

If that’s his tell, he’s not about to be mad about it. “Professional courtesy. My contract was for him, not his household.” Somewhere in another time, he can hear Illario complaining about his having too much of a heart for his line of work. 

“And helping his slaves was simply a side benefit?”

It had been the right thing to do. “Sure.”

He’s given the wrong answer and he knows it by the way Neve’s mouth turns down, but that’s the only indicator. He returns to the files, opening up Rook’s. Rook’s and Bellara’s are the thinnest by far. Bellara’s isn’t exactly a surprise, since she’s spent most of her life in Arlathan Forest. He’s surprised that Neve has anything on her at all. 

Rook’s is more interesting. He learns her given name for one: Camina Ingellvar. Where the moniker Rook came from is still a mystery that Neve’s file doesn’t solve. But there’s something else. 

“Rook was kicked out of the Mourn Watch? What does someone have to do to offend a group of necromancers? ” Between her Nevarran accent and her manipulation of spirit energy as they’d fought their way through The Ossuary, he’d quickly figured out Rook was a mortalitasi. He’s not exactly thrilled about it, seems like a waste of a good corpse in his opinion, but she had rescued him, so he’s not about to be overly picky. 

Neve looks up from her work, rolling her quill between her fingers. “Everything I’ve learned is in her file; it’s not as if Mourn Watch interpolitics made the Tevinter papers. The way I understand it, she disobeyed an order and pissed a lot of powerful people off. She wasn’t removed, but she’s officially listed as ‘on sabbatical’ and apparently that’s the same thing.”

He has a hard time imagining Rook purposefully doing anything to piss anyone off. Even with an ancient elven god in her head and two others supposedly wreaking havoc across Thedas, she’s maintained an enviable optimism. 

“Things are strained with her and Harding,” he mentions casually.

“Did I tell you Varric Tethras was the one who hired me for this job?” Neve asks. 

Ah. Finally, a name he has heard before. “No.”

In this, some of Neve’s carefully constructed aloofness falls away. “At Solas’s ritual, things went sideways fast. Varric tried to reason with him, but Solas killed him. Afterward, it was so strange…we tried to tell Rook what happened, but it was like she wasn’t there. Like her mind was somewhere else. It was terrifying, but she did hit her head pretty hard, so I let it go. The first day or two she kept talking about Varric as if he was still here. She’s stopped doing that, but she goes to the infirmary a lot.”

She shrugs. “Everyone processes grief differently. I think Harding resents how easily she’s carrying on as if nothing has changed.”

He thinks of Illario’s clear carelessness, of the way he keeps telling himself Caterina is dead as if this time is the time that the words blow will actually land, that he’ll feel something, anything. “Grief is hard.”

People come in three types: Family, contracts, and enemies. He’s still trying to figure out who exactly his are while also feeling out this particular contract. He’s no stranger to working with others, to making alliances and contacts to get him what he needs to get a job done, but this is…different. This is a team and he’s somehow been included in it even with everything that he is. 

And isn’t. 

Later, with a fresh cup of coffee, he retreats into the pantry he’s claimed as his room. He’s tired, but when isn’t he? He’s been awake for days on end during jobs before, so this should be easy. Besides, with enough coffee anything is possible. 

“Not keeping. Your promise,” Spite grumbles, but there’s no rancor in it.  

Lucanis isn’t sure what the demon keeps going on about. He’d kept his side of the deal with the demon. Some part of him was convinced that once he was out of The Ossuary, Spite would go too. That it hasn’t happened that way is…inconvenient. 

Abomination. That is what he is, he supposes. But even in that, he’s not quite right. Because his demon doesn’t have control all the time, only when his slips. When he lets his guard down. So, he won’t be doing that. He sips more of his coffee. It’s passable, but he really needs to get back to Antiva and get some quality coffee in this place. Also groceries. There’s hardly anything edible in this place.

He hears footsteps approaching and he freezes, hand already reaching for his hidden dagger. But the steps are casual, leisurely even; Rook’s by the sound of them. There’s a hesitation at the door as if she isn’t quite sure if she should knock or not. He wonders what the hesitation is about, but then he glances at the demon pouting in the corner and wonders no longer. 

A moment later, she knocks anyway. He maintains his position leaning against the wall. “Come in.”

She’s not in her armor but instead wears a simple blouse and pants. That means this is a social visit. He tenses a little, hoping that with her reappearance that Spite isn’t going to violently demand to speak with her again. She’d looked rather horrified by the whole thing. He’d prefer not to have a repeat. Spite is clearly interested, but he is quiet. For now. 

She smiles as she enters the pantry, her purple eyes glancing around the space. Neve’s file didn’t tell him her age, but he guesses she’s a few years younger than him. She’s elven, but not Dalish, and she plays with the ends of her long, brown hair when she’s nervous. She’s doing it now. “I…uh…just wanted to drop by. See how you were settling in? You know we have other rooms, right? You don’t have to sleep in the pantry.”

He forces a smile and a twisting truth that’s not quite a lie. “Are you asking why the trained assassin prefers a quiet, unassuming spot with good choke points?” 

If she catches any hint of a lie, she hides it well. “Well, so long as you’re comfortable then.”

“Thank you.” He’s not used to such concern over his comfort, but he can see that this is Rook’s way. 

“Is…uh…Spite here?” she asks. 

“Here,” the demon replies, with a sing-song lilt of his voice as he stalks a bit nearer to her.

Lucanis sighs. “Perpetually.” 

Rook nods once and then addresses a spot she clearly assumes Spite is. She’s about three feet off. “Spite, you are quite welcome here as well, but there will be no more hurting Lucanis. Am I clear?” 

Lucanis is surprised at how firm and unyielding her voice is, at the sharp edge the usual light-hearted sarcasm has given way to. He suddenly sees the person from Rook’s file, the one who would disobey an order, make the call that needed to happen if she believed in it enough. She’s talking to Spite, but it’s him who has the ridiculous compulsion to stand a little straighter. 

Spite approaches him. “I want. To Talk.” The demon is insistent, but not in the same way as last night. 

Lucanis can’t help but smile. “She asked you a question.” It’s nice to be able to needle him back for once. 

Spite glares at him and then at her. “Not. Hurting.”

“I think that was agreement to your terms, but it’s hard to say,” he shrugs. 

“Thank you, Spite,” Rook replies with a smile. 

“You don’t have to do that.”

She looks utterly confused. “Do what?”

“Talk to him.”

She crosses her arms. “But he’s standing here in the room. That would be rather rude, don’t you think?”

“Rude. Yes. Want to talk.” 

“Don’t encourage him. I’m trying to get rid of him, not make him more comfortable.”

There’s an emotion in her eyes he can’t quite place, isn’t sure what it means. It feels familiar, almost disappointment. He worries he’s managed to say the wrong thing again. “If we can help you with that, we will. Are you sure you’re okay being here?”

He’s a professional. Of course. “I’m fine; Spite won’t be a problem again.”

She looks surprised at his response and then immediately sorry. “I should have been clearer. You just lost a family member. I know you said you needed to work, but if you have responsibilities in Treviso or if you’ve changed your mind now that you’ve had some time to think about it…”

Oh. More…concern for him. He wants to appreciate the sentiment, but he can’t go home anyway. Not like this. Caterina is dead, and it is only because he is free…but he’s not really free so what has he really gained and what has he lost?

He doesn’t say any of that. 

“When the First Talon of the Crows gives you a contract, you do it. Especially if she’s your grandmother. Besides, I owe you a debt, and after a year in that hole, I’m looking forward to stabbing a god or two in the back.” It’s the last contract his grandmother made, and he intends to see it through. 

“Alright then, if we’re going up against gods, we’re going to need all the help we can get. But…uh, I’m glad you want to be here.” She smiles before she goes, something soft and honest and true. 

He’s almost sorry to be alone again until he realizes that Spite was hanging on every word. 

[saintverse]

Six of Crows Playlists 🐦‍⬛

Edit: Check the notes for more!

I made some Six of Crows playlists, forgive me for the sheer amount of songs, I listen to a downright obnoxious amount of music. I was also legally obligated to include some very 2016-2018 "edgy" music that was typically associated with these books back in my fandom days. The middle school nostalgia aspect really got me.

General book playlist, some of it is songs that fit all of the characters as well as book events, some of it is songs that fit the atmosphere of the setting.

My Jesper and Wylan playlist. I'd be down to make playlists for other specific relationships, they just happen to be my favorite. If that's something you're actually interested in, let me know, because I do have some ideas!

Possibly a collection of all my favorite love songs. They meant so much to me when I was 13, I have such a soft spot.

I'm most embarrassed by this one. It has a lot of the nostalgia element that was mentioned above. It was difficult to find songs that contend with the persona Kaz has so carefully cultivated. Forgive me for the possibly shallow reading of his character that it may convey.

There's lots to work with in regard to Inej. Her past as an acrobat, her future as a pirate, all on top of her character throughout the duology. I had fun.

Possibly one of the most conflicting and chaotic playlists on this list. Creating it really had me pondering Nina's writing. She's a lot more complex/multi-faceted than I'd ever given her credit for, haha!

I struggled the most with Matthias' playlist, I'm actually surprised it's as long as it is. I didn't connect with him as much as the others, especially during my first reading of the duology, but I've definitely gained some respect for his character and what Bardugo was trying to convey when writing him. Normally I'm drawn to characters whose experience parallels mine as a "cult survivor", but there's a lot of notable distance between our experiences.

Similarly to the Kaz playlist, I hope the "just vibes" theme of this playlist doesn't come across as a shallow understanding of Jesper's character. It's the longest playlist, he's my absolute favorite and it shows. I have a lot of respect for him!

A contender for the discordic energy of Nina's playlist. I intentionally leaned into this aspect. Wylan holds a special place in my heart, he helped me come to terms with a lot of things. I fear some of the self projection is clearly evident.

A couple of extra notes:

Expect a follow-up post soon. I very much need a Kuwei playlist, as well as a Kanej/Helnik/Ninej playlist. Perhaps one highlighting the friendship between Jesper and Inej as well, who knows.

If you're uncomfortable with songs with sexual or suggestive lyrics being applied to them, I totally understand and respect that. Those songs were included either because I found that aspect of them ignorable, because I think it matches their "energy" or is the style of music they might enjoy, or quite rarely because I'm specifically keeping the Shadow and Bone continuity in mind.

Example: ...Baby One More Time is a fairly suggestive song. But I'll stand by the fact that Jesper Fahey would listen to 90s pop artists over my dead body.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Grim Reaper