#But it's just sad how people can become strangers to you so suddenly????

[poisonjaffas]

I literally hate how some days I just seem to wake up woth zero patience or tolerance for other people and I'm just awful to be around and I don't even notice half the time, I don't want to make my friends sad but that seems to happen the more time I spend with them and I don't know how to explain it in a way that doesn't just make me sound like a dick for no reason

[just-aake]

Detecting Love

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A person with the power to detect lies meets the spy who has been trained to lie her entire life.

Warnings: fluff, light angst

Words: 6169

You have the power to detect lies. 

Now, it’s not exactly strong enough to be a hero, but you can honestly say that it has been useful in your life. 

Sure, it gets annoying at times, but one of the many lessons you’ve learned is to ignore minor instances of dishonesty — white lies or small things like that — since it helps reduce unnecessary confusion or chaos with others.

People lie. That is an undeniable fact of life.

And while one may believe that being able to detect such things is great, the truth is there are times when you find yourself resenting your power. 

Because, of course, everyone experiences moments when they wish that someone important to them isn't lying.

Like when your fiancée tells you she loves you.

There wasn’t really a malicious reason behind why a usually affectionate statement suddenly became so hurtful.

There was no cheating.

There was no fighting.

It was just another one of the many lessons you’ve learned in life.

That sometimes…a truth can also become a lie.

It’s just unfortunate that this lesson happened to you in such a way.

These kinds of moments make you wonder if maybe it’s better that people shouldn’t always know when someone is lying to them.

Then they don’t end up alone, drinking at a bar late into the night, trying to numb the pain of a broken heart.

You let out a heavy sigh as you stare at the pair of rings resting on the bar top, remembering the conversation that ended with one of them being returned to you. 

It was a heart-wrenching discussion where your fiancée confessed her steadily changed feelings for you, leading to the resolution to remain friends. 

And while neither of you is completely at fault for why things ended, you can’t help but blame your stupid power for putting you in the situation in the first place. 

You sigh heavily once more before swiftly downing the glass the bartender had set in front of you.

At least your current attempt to drown your sorrow is going well, judging by how the rings start to blur in your vision.

With a sad sigh, you reach for the rings to put them away, but in your clumsy state, one slips from your grasp and tumbles to the floor.

Just as you move to retrieve it, a hand beats you to it. 

Looking up, you find a red-haired stranger standing before you, offering the ring to you with a charming smile.

She looks familiar but the drunken haze in your brain makes it hard for you to remember where you’ve seen her before.

“Here, you dropped this,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

She’s beautiful and her voice sounds perfect. You think to yourself as you take the ring from her.

She chuckles lightly, “Thanks.”

Oh, did you say that out loud? You must be more drunk than you thought.

The woman offers her hand to you in greeting, and with a confident smirk, she introduces herself.

“My name’s Natalie. Natalie Rushman.”

Immediately, a red aura surrounds her, causing you to roll your eyes and return your attention back to the bar. 

“Liar,” you mutter tiredly as you gesture to the bartender to close your tab, not really in the mood to deal with any more lies tonight.

At the corner of your eyes, you see the stranger give you a slightly impressed look.

Ready to leave, you stand up quickly from your seat.

However, the action makes the room suddenly spin in your vision, causing you to stagger backward. 

A hand steadies you, resting gently on your back, and you unconsciously lean back against her surprisingly strong frame for support.

There’s a soft chuckle near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me try again,” she whispers smoothly, guiding you upright and turning you around to face her.

Offering her hand once more, she reintroduces herself.

“My name’s Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to recruit you to work for the Avengers.”

You blink slowly, trying to comprehend her words through your drunken haze. You wonder if the alcohol is affecting you more than you thought when no red aura appears this time at her words.

Chuckling to yourself, you shake your head in disbelief, unfortunately worsening the pounding in your skull. 

Work for the Avengers? That has to be a lie.

Before you can think about it any further, you feel yourself falling once more, unable to remain upright.

Strong arms catch you, and as your consciousness fades, you see a blurry glimpse of her striking green eyes before succumbing to darkness.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You wake to the pounding in your head and the bright sunlight streaming through your window. Turning away, you groan into your pillow, remembering that your fiancée – your ex-fiancée – would typically close the curtains before leaving for work.

Now that she’s gone, you’re going to have to adjust to living alone once again.

A cup being placed on the nightstand startles you into sitting up, as you turn in surprise to find the beautiful red-haired stranger beside your bed.

“For your headache,” she explains, placing some medicine next to the cup.

Your mouth hangs open as you struggle to remember the events of last night, some of which are honestly a blur. 

You examine yourself, checking your clothes and finding them unchanged from the previous night, and then you scan your surroundings again and realize in relief that nothing was out of place.

Well, except for the presence of this stranger in your home, who’s patiently waiting for you to gather yourself.

Searching through your drunken memories, you think you vaguely remember meeting her last night. She had mentioned her name was — Nata…? 

“Natalie?” you ask with uncertainty.

At her raised brow, you quickly apologize, feeling bad for not remembering correctly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem to remember, but did we…did something happen between us last night?” you ask hesitantly.

Her face twists in genuine sadness and disappointment, causing a panic to run through you as you struggle to recall what could’ve possibly happened between the two of you for her to have such an expression.

“I’m hurt,” she finally says, placing a hand on her chest, “And after you even said that it was the best night of your life.”

Seeing the familiar red aura appear around her at her words, you let out a brief sigh of relief before realization sets in, and you give her a hard glare.

“You’re lying.”

Her hurt expression quickly morphs into an impressed look, and you are slightly startled at how effortlessly she was able to shift her emotions. 

The woman straightens her posture and crosses her arms, adopting a commanding stance that seems more likely her typical demeanor.

“So it’s not just luck,” she remarks, studying you curiously. 

At her words, you quickly rise from your bed in confusion.

However, the action causes you to wince in pain at the pounding in your head. 

Shutting your eyes tightly, you hold your head in comfort and lean lightly on the nightstand for support. 

As you do, your hand brushes against yesterday’s newspaper that you had been reading moments before your ex said those fateful three words that led to the heartbreaking conversation between the two of you. 

When the pain subsides, you slowly open your eyes, catching a glimpse of the front page before doing a double take.

The front features an article about the opening of the new Avenger Compound, including a photo capturing the Avenger members posed in front of the completed building. 

What catches you off guard is the uncanny resemblance between one of the Avengers in the picture and the woman standing before you.

Pointing at her in disbelief, you stammer.

“You’re…,” then, gesturing at the newspaper, you continue, “…her?”

She doesn’t respond to your question but instead nods toward your other room, inviting you to follow.

“Let’s talk,” she says, heading toward your door, then gestures at the medicine on your nightstand. “But drink those first.”

After freshening up in your bathroom, you take a moment to stare at your reflection in the mirror, noticing the remnants of last night’s tears in your slightly puffy, red eyes. 

Sighing, you brush away the depressing thoughts of your failed relationship before taking the medicine and exiting your room.

You are greeted by the sight of your unexpected guest comfortably seated at your kitchen counter, flipping through a magazine with casual disinterest.

“You’re Black Widow,” you say confidently this time, positioning yourself on the opposite side of her.

She closes the magazine with a snap, placing it on the table before clasping her hands atop of it and meeting your gaze.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects you, before nodding at you. “And you’re Y/n L/n.”

“How did you…?”

She holds up a wedding invitation draft, displaying you and your fiancée’s names printed in fine lettering. 

Realizing that she must have been snooping around your things, you give her a disapproving glare, snatching the card from her hand and hastily stuffing it into a drawer.

Feeling a mixture of emotions—irritated, sad, hungover—you turn to the fridge, deciding to make breakfast to give yourself some focus. 

After you retrieve the eggs and other ingredients, you heat the stove before glancing at Natasha briefly, asking, “So, what does an Avenger want from me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her resting her head against her hand, watching you with interest.

“I told you yesterday,” she replies.

You roll your eyes, giving her a deadpan look, knowing she’s aware that you don’t remember.

“Remind me again.”

Natasha gives you an amused smirk, straightening up in her seat. 

“Alright, I’m here to recruit you, more specifically for a sort of managerial position at the new Avenger Compound.”

Furrowing your brows, you question, “Why me? I don't have experience with that sort of thing.”

“But you can tell when someone is lying, can’t you?”

Pausing briefly in your cooking, you contemplate her words and its possible implications. Not many people know about your ability, and you don’t think you did anything to reveal it to the spy who’s currently staring expectantly at you.

So, in response, you shrug, replying as casually as possible. 

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people…psychology degree and all.”

A silence ensues, broken only by the sizzling of your cooking, until Natasha finally nods, seemingly accepting your explanation.

You breathe a silent sigh of relief, returning your attention to your current task.

But then she pulls out a folder filled with documents and places it on the counter, causing your nerves to rise again.

“Well, you’ve helped solve hundreds of cases with your interviews of the suspects,” she remarks casually, flipping through the folder before glancing up at you through her lashes. 

“100% accuracy rate in the information that you provided to the detectives,” she continues, nodding at you in acknowledgment. “For a part-time profiler, that’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” you respond with a polite smile, but beneath the surface, a hint of suspicion creeps in as you begin plating the meal you made.

Natasha closes the folder with a definitive snap, making you look at her. 

“You could say it’s almost impossible,” she muses, before a confident smirk forms on her face, and she tilts her head at you with a raised brow in challenge. 

“Unless there’s some way you can guarantee that they’re telling the truth.”

Honestly, you should’ve known better than to think that the experienced spy hadn’t already completed thorough research and investigations into you and your powers before meeting with you.

If anything, this was likely just a test for her to confirm what she already knows about your abilities.

Sliding a plate across the counter to Natasha with a pointed glare, you relent, deciding there’s no point in denying it anymore.

“Fine, what do you know?” 

Instead of responding, Natasha’s gaze lingers on the plate before her, a hint of confusion in her expression. 

Her plate holds a fluffy omelette accompanied by a side of crispy bacon and a slice of golden-brown toasted bread.

As she glances back up at you with a questioning look in her eyes, you take a seat across from her, setting down a similar plate in front of you before also placing a stack of fluffy pancakes at the center.

“What’s this?” she asks, gesturing to the meal.

“Breakfast,” you reply bluntly, taking a bite from your plate.

Natasha raises a brow at you, remarking plainly, “It’s noon.”

“Brunch then,” you correct with a roll of your eyes.

Natasha's lips quirk up in amusement, and she shakes her head.

“Thanks, but I’ve already eaten.” 

The red aura appears around her, and with your mouth full of food, you give her a pointed glare.

“Right,” Natasha says in realization, remembering what you can do. She pulls the plate closer to her with a soft thanks. 

The atmosphere that followed was unusual but surprisingly not awkward. Despite being practically strangers, you find yourself slightly comforted by Natasha’s presence. 

If she wasn’t here, you probably wouldn’t have dragged yourself out of bed today after what happened yesterday.

After a moment of eating, Natasha breaks the silence.

“So, how can you tell when someone’s lying?”

Pausing to contemplate your answer, you wipe your mouth with a napkin before responding. 

“Well, when someone lies, there’s always this rush of chemicals that happens in their bodies,” you explain. “It ends up causing the typical indicators — things like fidgeting, sweating, or tone changes in their voice.”

“I didn’t do any of that, yet you still knew I was lying,” Natasha points out.

“No, you're right,” you admit, nodding. “You’re a perfect liar.”

From what you have seen so far, every expression and comment of hers appears genuine and honest, and if it was anyone else, they’d probably believe anything she says.

However, thanks to your ability, you know better. 

Gesturing at her, you clarify, “You still give off the same chemical reactions though, and I have the ability to see that.”

Natasha leans back in her seat, crossing her arms as she processes your explanation.

“It’s mainly visual then,” she concludes before asking curiously. “You don’t even need to hear what they said to know that they’re lying?” 

You nod, ruefully adding, “Yep, my world’s just filled with people glowing red at random.”

“And how long does this ‘glow’ stay around them?”

“Depends,” you reply with a shrug. “Usually not long, maybe a few seconds.”

Natasha hums in interest, tapping her chin, her brows pinching lightly in thought.

You can’t help but smile amusedly at the sight. 

For a person who has such an intimidating reputation, the spy in front of you right now looks kind of cute rather than scary.

After a moment, you break the silence this time.

“So, what’s the job?” 

Natasha’s eyes focus back on you at your question.

“Nothing too complicated,” she assures. “You’ll be in charge of interviewing the new employee candidates and conducting continuous reviews of the current ones.”

“You mean like screening them?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion, already aware of the rigorous and difficult process required to work at the Avengers buildings. 

“Don’t you guys already do extensive background checks before hiring people? Why do you suddenly need me?”

At your question, a charming smile appears on her face, effortlessly shifting her expression like before, though now you understand she’s just hiding her true feelings about the situation.

“That’s confidential.”

You scoff in disbelief and cross your arms.

“You do know that just makes it harder to trust you, right?”

Natasha mirrors your posture, her pretty grin still in place, masking any other emotions.

“Fair point,” she admits. “But to be honest, you should never put your trust in people like me anyway.”

“People like you?” 

“Spies,” Natasha clarifies as she begins to gather her empty plate and utensils. “Which is one of the types of people you’d be looking out for in this position. Their deception skills would be on a similar level to mine.”

You chuckle at that, causing Natasha to pause in her actions, raising a brow at you in question.

“Sorry, but everyone lies, whether you’re a spy or not,” you tell her, standing and taking the empty plate from her with a small smirk. “You’re just slightly better at it.”

A tiny offended look slips through Natasha’s expression at your little jab, her brow furrowing for a brief second.

Your grin widens at the sight of seeing a glimpse of her real self as you turn to place the dirty dishes in the sink.

Natasha quickly regains her composure, moving around the counter to lean back against the table next to you.

“In any case, the decision is still yours. I’ve already confirmed your abilities. It’s up to you to decide if you want to accept.”

At her words, you pause to consider your options. 

A new job working with the Avengers is a great opportunity, but it would be a significant change in your life. 

Then again, you’re already facing a huge change.

Your eyes unconsciously drift to the drawer next to where Natasha is leaning, where the wedding invitation draft remains, and your face twists in sadness at the memory. 

You guess it wouldn’t hurt to add a career change alongside your new relationship status.

At least this way you can still earn a salary while also distracting yourself from the depressing thoughts of your failed engagement. 

“Okay,” you decide, meeting Natasha’s gaze with a sigh, “I’ll take the job.”

“Great, I knew you would be agreeable,” Natasha remarks, extending her hand to you.

A red aura appears around her, causing you to huff and roll your eyes.

You take her hand in yours, giving her a tiny glare.

“Liar.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

You say that as you dodge another swing from Natasha, ducking under her arm to get behind her, only for her to twist her body around and deliver a kick that you narrowly block with your arms. 

Still, the impact has you stumbling back.

“Really?” Natasha asks with an innocent tone as she circles you. “I thought I mentioned to you that training was a part of your employment.”

A red aura begins to appear around her, but you don’t have time to comment before she swings her leg at you again. 

You catch it against your side with a small grunt of pain.

Having been a profiler for criminal cases before, you do have basic defense training, and you always believed that you could hold your own against most aggressors. 

At least you used to.

This current fight is making you reconsider your skills.

With her off-balance position, you attempt to throw her to the ground, but Natasha swiftly regains her footing, catching herself on her hands and executing a fluid movement to flip upright. She then bends low, sweeping your legs out from under you.

You land on the mat with a groan, feeling the impact reverberate through your body. Another pained breath escapes you as Natasha expertly pins you down.

You catch the faint red aura fading from her before throwing your head back against the mat with an exhausted sigh.

“You’re such a liar,” you breathe out, your voice tinged with both exhaustion and playful accusation. Closing your eyes, you take a moment to catch your breath.

Natasha's laughter fills the air, resonating above you, her amusement infectious and drawing a small grin from you. You peek open your eyes, watching as she disengages from atop you and heads over to her water bottle at the side.

“I’m a spy. It comes with the job,” she says casually, taking a sip.

“Okay, and I’m basically just HR,” you counter, pulling yourself upright into a sitting position. “So how does combat training fit into that?”

Natasha gestures towards you with a sweep of her hand.

“You need to be prepared to defend yourself if you ever expose someone dangerous and find yourself without backup,” she explains.

“That’s unlikely considering I haven’t even encountered anyone suspicious since I started,” you remark with a sigh.

It's been a month already, and you're starting to question if your presence here is even necessary.

Before you can dwell further on your thoughts, the cold touch of a metal water bottle against your cheek startles you.

Recoiling, you look up to see Natasha holding it out to you.

Raising a brow, Natasha waves the bottle lightly in offer.

You snatch the bottle from her with a tiny glare, but she only smirks in response.

Apart from the new job, the other surprising addition to your life is your budding friendship with the Avenger. 

After the whole recruiting ordeal, you honestly expected to only have passing encounters with her at the compound.

However, to your surprise, on your first day here, Natasha was the one who volunteered to give you a tour of the place, and in the days that followed, the two of you would often share coffee and chat before you had to head off to your respective jobs.

Those regular interactions with her also earned you a fearsome reputation among the other workers, which actually works out in your favor since they’re already nervous by the time you call them in for a review. This way they are more likely to slip up and reveal anything they may be hiding.

But, like you said, you haven’t found anything substantial yet.

With a heavy sigh, you pull your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them, feeling the weight of failure bearing down on you.

Then you hear Natasha plop down beside you.

“Back when we met, you asked me why we needed you,” she begins.

Curious at her words, you turn your head slightly to glance at her, waiting for her explanation.

Natasha leans back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as she continues to speak.

“A couple of months ago, our surveillance revealed that someone within the compound staff was plotting an attack during the opening ceremony of the new building. However, we couldn’t confirm who it was without risking exposing that we knew of their plan."

Your eyes widen in confusion at the revelation. From what you remember, the opening ceremony was a success. There hadn’t been any news of an attack that day.

“But you caught them, right?” you inquire.

“No,” Natasha responds, shaking her head before meeting your gaze. “You did.”

Surprised, you straighten up, giving her a questioning look.

Natasha offers a small smile, elaborating, “You had recently interviewed him as a suspect for another case, and in your notes, you labeled him as dangerous and untrustworthy, despite everything about him proving otherwise.”

“And you believed me?” you ask incredulously.

Natasha shrugs, “Well, I had no other leads at the time anyway.”

You scoff in exasperation at her teasing, playfully pushing her away.

She chuckles softly before adopting a more serious expression.

“Trust in your abilities, Y/n,” Natasha says with a genuine tone. “If it’s you, not finding anyone suspicious is a good thing.”

You watch her closely, waiting for the red aura to appear.

But as a couple of seconds pass and nothing changes, you tuck your forehead back against your knees, this time to hide the smile threatening to spread across your face.

“Alright, break’s over,” Natasha announces, giving your back an encouraging pat. “Let’s go again.”

You groan in reluctance, remaining in your curled-up position.

“Come on,” Natasha urges, her tone coaxing. “I’ll go easy on you this time.”

You don’t even need to look up to know the red aura is surrounding her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“What’s this?”

Natasha's voice draws your attention away from the task of pouring cooked popcorn into a bowl.

She's sitting on your sofa, examining a small, elegant card that you had accidentally left on the table.

Widening your eyes in realization of what she’s found, you hurry over to her, but her narrowed eyes tell you that she has already read the names on the card.

“She’s inviting you to her wedding?” Natasha exclaims, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s only been a year since your breakup, and now she’s already getting married?!”

Sighing in disappointment, you had hoped to keep this information from Natasha, who developed a strong dislike for your ex after you shared the details of your breakup during one of your girls' nights.

Placing the bowl of popcorn on the table, you take the invitation from her hand and head to the kitchen, intending to tuck it away in a drawer. 

As you slide it open, you catch the sight of the old wedding draft buried at the bottom, which causes a tiny pang of sadness in your chest at the memory of that time, of how everything changed so suddenly.

You can't help but wonder how your life might have unfolded if your engagement hadn't ended.

Would you still have accepted Natasha's offer if you hadn't been seeking a distraction from your failed relationship? 

“You’re not thinking about going, are you?” Natasha's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Glancing up, you notice a peculiar look in her eyes, though it quickly shifts to a neutral expression at your gaze.

After a whole year of spending time together, you could tell underneath her impassive expression that she was upset about something; though, you figured it was just outrage at the situation.

Tossing the invitation into the drawer and shutting it, you offer her a small reassuring smile before returning to your seat beside her to start the movie.

“No, of course not,” you tell her.

As the opening scenes play, you maintain a normal, nonchalant expression, aware of Natasha's gaze still lingering on you even as the red aura fades from around your body.

After a while, Natasha huffs in disbelief before finally settling into the sofa, pulling the bowl of popcorn into her lap.

“You better be sharing that, Romanoff,” you tease, your eyes fixed on the screen.

Natasha scoffs before tossing a piece of popcorn at you.

“Of course, I will.”

Just as you're about to turn your head to look at her and confirm her honesty, she swiftly shoves a cushion pillow to the side of your face, blocking your view.

After a few seconds, she releases it, fluffing the cushion casually before leaning her head against your shoulder and tossing another piece of popcorn into her mouth.

You chuckle at her antics, amused by her playful behavior, before returning your attention to the screen.

A few days later, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of the wedding area, observing as servers and workers hustle to complete the finishing touches.

A sad, bittersweet expression tugs at your lips as you recognize familiar details chosen by your ex, mingled with hints of a stranger’s preferences in the decorations.

To be honest, you don’t intend to stay for the wedding. You're just here to confirm something for yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, conjuring your ex’s face in your mind, and whisper to yourself. 

“I’m in love with her…”

Opening your eyes, you exhale slowly, a content smile on your lips as you notice the red aura surrounding your skin. It's a relief to be able to find closure regarding your feelings for your ex.

“You know, I don’t need powers to know you were lying,” a voice remarks from behind.

Startled, you turn to find Natasha approaching.

She stops beside you, her gaze fixed at the scene ahead as she accuses, “Saying that you weren’t going to come here.”

You look at her briefly before returning your attention to the field.

“I got curious about something,” you admit. “Figured that this was one way to confirm it.”

Excited and happy chatter fills the air as your ex appears, surrounded by friends and family.

Suddenly, thoughts of what-ifs from the other night resurface, prompting you to ask out loud unconsciously before you can stop yourself.

“Do you think I should’ve just pretended that she was telling the truth at that time — when she said she loved me?” you ask Natasha. “Maybe it might’ve worked out between us if I just kept my mouth shut.”

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha finally responds, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

“From my experience,” she begins, “I can tell you that living a lie would not make you happy…no matter how much you wish for it to be true.”

You chuckle lightly, “You’re probably right.”

“Of course I am,” Natasha says confidently.

A comfortable silence falls between you as you both observe the preparations from a distance.

“She is a fool for letting you go, though,” Natasha suddenly adds, her tone casual.

You laugh softly, gently chiding her, “You can’t call the bride that on her wedding day.”

“Alright then,” Natasha concedes, turning to you. “You’re an even bigger fool for coming here by yourself.”

She returns her gaze to the field, muttering under her breath with a hint of irritation, “…still visiting the one who broke your heart.”

Amused, you tilt your head to catch her eyes, chuckling at her words, as you tease, “You know, it almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

When Natasha doesn’t respond or look at you, you raise a brow in surprise and poke her side. 

“Wait, seriously, are you jealous?”

She swats your hand away.

“Stop that,” Natasha reprimands, before gritting out, “I’m not jealous!”

A small grin forms on your face as you notice the red aura appear, causing Natasha to roll her eyes and walk away.

“I’m leaving,” she declares firmly.

“Aww, come on, Natasha,” you call as you trail behind her.

Glancing back at you and seeing your pleased expression, she points at you in warning.

“That smile better be off your face by the time I pull up, or else you’re walking home,” she states before continuing on her way.

Watching her go with a fond smile, you find yourself softly repeating the words.

“I’m in love with her.”

Looking down, your smile widens when you don’t see the red aura appear, confirming what you already knew about your feelings for the red-haired spy.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As you sit in your office at the Avenger compound, you feel a sense of fatigue wash over you at your busy schedule of back-to-back interviews.

Across from you, the final candidate squirms in her seat, clearly nervous under your scrutinizing gaze. 

A chill sweeps through the room, courtesy of the cold blast of air from the AC, and you can't help but regret your decision to have it set so cold, a choice originally intended to maintain an intimidating atmosphere during interviews. 

With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your hands from the cozy warmth of your hoodie pocket and turn to the next page of questions.

"Let's talk about handling confidential information," you begin, your voice cutting through the tension in the room. "Can you share a time when you had to ensure the secure handling of sensitive data?"

The candidate responds with some slight hesitation, but you sense it’s more from her nerves than any dishonesty, so you continue, moving on to the remaining questions.

Luckily, the rest of the interview goes by quickly and smoothly with her answering the other questions without any problems.

However, now comes the final question of the interview.

“Among the Avengers, who do you consider to be the hottest?”

Clearly caught off-guard, she stumbles over her words, “W-what?” 

Maintaining your serious demeanor, you repeat the question.

“Who do you believe is the hottest Avenger?”

After a moment's pause, she softly answers, “Black Widow..."

Setting your clipboard down, you extend your hand.

"Thank you for coming. It was nice meeting you," you say, signaling the end of the interview.

As she thanks you and leaves, you flip to the last paper on your clipboard, revealing a sheet with tick marks beside the names of your Avenger friends.

With an amused smile, you add another mark at the end of Natasha’s already leading line.

“I don’t think that last question was approved by Steve,” a voice accuses from the doorway.

Glancing up, you see Natasha leaning against the frame, her arms folded.

You shrug in response, “Makes it more interesting though.”

Natasha hums curiously before moving to your side, perching on the edge of your desk. Her narrowed eyes fix on you.

“Is that my hoodie?” she asks in suspicion as she tugs at your sleeve.

“Maybe,” you reply, hastily pulling the hood over your head to conceal your guilty eyes.

Natasha had left the piece of clothing at your place after her last visit, and given the chilly room, borrowing it seemed harmless enough.

“Don’t you have a briefing to get to?” you deflect, attempting to change the subject.

Natasha huffs knowingly before responding, "I had some spare time, so I came to bother you."

"I’m honored," you quip sarcastically, though inwardly your heart warmed at the fact that she thought of you.

Natasha chuckles lightly, then gestures towards your clipboard.

"Ask me some questions," she prompts, her tone playful yet eager.

Deciding to indulge her, you reach for your clipboard and adopt a serious demeanor.

“Name?” you begin.

Natasha shoots you a deadpan look, prompting you to show her the document with the question written on it.

“If they lie about their name, then that’s a red flag already,” you defend, giving her a pointed look.

“Natalie,” you mock.

Natasha chuckles, shaking her head at the memory before extending her hand.

“It’s actually Natasha,” she corrects, playing along.

Skipping past the other general questions, you delve into more targeted inquiries related to threat assessment.

“Have you ever been associated with any extremist or radical groups or organizations?” you ask.

“If you consider working undercover to gain intel on them, then yes,” Natasha responds without hesitation.

“Have you ever participated or been involved in any violent behavior where someone was hurt?”

This one makes her pause for a moment before she finally admits softly, "…yes."

As the questioning continues, Natasha's playful demeanor gradually fades, replaced by a rueful tone.

By the time you reach the final question, she places her hand on your clipboard, gently setting it down on the desk.

"Maybe these questions aren’t meant for people like me," she says sadly, her tone filled with regret.

Observing her disappointed expression, you scoot closer and rest your hand on hers to draw her attention.

“Do you still want to hear my final assessment?” you ask gently.

After a contemplative pause, Natasha nods, curiosity evident in her eyes as she gestures for you to continue.

“Well, based on your answers,” you say with a dramatic pause, flipping through the papers before shaking your head firmly.

“Absolutely not. Extremely dangerous. Definitely a high-risk candidate.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief at your teasing and gives you a playful push. As your laughter subsides, you soften your tone, meeting her gaze sincerely.

“But…I’d trust you,” you admit genuinely.

Natasha's eyes widen slightly before she averts her gaze, clearing her throat. Her fingers toy with the clipboard, flipping to the last page and seeing the score sheet, before chuckling in amusement.

Turning back to you, she tilts her head with a raised brow.

“I don’t get the special question?” she asks.

You take the clipboard from her, offering a knowing look as you begin to organize the documents on your desk.

“I think we both already know your answer to that question,” you reply.

“Then ask me another,” Natasha insists.

Her request makes you pause as you ponder what to ask. Only one thing comes to mind, the question you’ve been hesitating to ask her for a long time.

Meeting her expectant gaze, you find yourself wanting to know the answer, despite the fear in your mind at the possibility of causing another big change in your life again.

Summoning your courage, you face her directly.

“Would you…,” you start, faltering momentarily before gathering yourself with a deep breath.

“...would you say ‘yes’ if I asked you out on a date tonight?”

There's a moment of silence, and just as you consider retracting the question, Natasha reaches out and adjusts the hood atop your head.

Perplexed by her action, you watch her suspiciously. Then, in one swift motion, she pulls the hood down over your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“No,” her voice responds to your question.

Hearing her stand, you quickly remove the hood to see Natasha already making her way out of the door, but before she disappears from your view, you catch the red aura surrounding her slowly fading away.

As an excited smile spreads across your face at the revelation of her true answer, your phone on the desk pings with a new message. Glancing at the screen, you see a text from Natasha.

I’ll pick you up tonight. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 2

a/n: Thank you for reading! I know I said I was going to take a little break, but I had some time so I ended up finishing this and decided to post it now instead of later.

[gotham-daydreams]

I feel like when batfam confronts reader it would be so weird for reader? Like these people they’ve tried desperately to get their attention and here they are talking to her and actually looking at her face? It’d be so overwhelming like imagine a group of strangers crowing you and telling you how much they love you and such?

It is! I will say that much, and even if the Batfam don't just show up all at once (since that would be a little silly and even more overwhelming for both sides), it is still just... odd. Especially when the reader assumes that something is going on, and doesn't even consider the idea that the Batfam is there to just see them, and kind of make sure that they're alive. Not until the 'idea' is shoved in their face, anyway.

Since- not only imagine seeing these strangers that you only know by name and not much else, suddenly showing up and trying to shove themselves back into your life (with the first one to see you just- not treating the situation well at all. And maybe is taking the phrase "forgive and forget" and trying to push it on you a little too much, with more emphasis on the 'forget' part). But just, finally trying to do something other than strive for what you've been beginning to accept is the impossible, and just having that supposed 'impossibility' shoved in your face like it's nothing. Like all of that struggle you went through to even see such a thing as impossible in the first place, was... nothing. Almost meaningless in nature as it is given to you so easily that it's sad. That you effort in the past was almost in vain.

That kind of thing can mess someone up, especially someone that tried so hard. It may make them think a certain way, and that will show as stuff does go wrong.

Then, look at the Batfam. To them, they don't even fully realize the weight of the situation, some of them don't anyway. They can't grasp how much time has passed and the toll it's taken on the reader just yet, because they're more focused on themselves in a way. Yes, they are worried and that is what gets them to look, but then reality is just- shoved in their face (well, more like slapped, but who cares about the details right now?). The reader has become a completely different person now, and that really shows. Not to mention that their attitude towards the Batfam is very different, and, of course, no longer that of someone who is striving to be a part of the family. They have an entire life outside of the Batfam that's basically entirely detached from them, and the family doesn't like that. Some just can't accept it.

Though, all will be revealed and shown as we go on :]

Still debating on make a 2nd teaser/sneak peak, since you guys definitely deserve it and I do still want to show that I've made good progress on Part 3, though if I do that it might be vastly different from the part itself. Lol

Anyway, thanks for sending in the ask, and I agree! It definitely is weird for the reader, even if they don't see everyone all at once. Though when they do see more of the Batfam, that weirdness will only grow, honestly.

[galaxy-fleur]

how would leon react to the death of his s/o?

if it's someone that used to be his partner, life long friend and the like, asking with that in mind as i am looking for some angst :'D

Ah, I see you wanna make me sad, anon... Well you've come to the right place, because I am nothing but a sucker for angst.

Honestly... Yeah, ouch, it's a painful thing to think about. Leon is no stranger to loss, and that's putting it lightly. While most people don't even think about losing someone they care about until it suddenly becomes a harsh reality, for Leon? It's more a question of 'when', rather than 'if'. It could happen tomorrow for all he knows, or it could happen 40 years in the future. Either, it will happen. It's grim, but when you have to confront your own mortality and the mortality of others around you as frequently as he does, it's kind of inevitable. Leon does not get the luxury of going through his everyday life blissfully oblivious about death or its inevitability.

In a way, it's a double-edged sword.

On the other hand, it also makes it hard to live in the present, when all the horrible 'what if's creep into his mind, one after another. His acceptance of this never-ending trail of death does not imply that he is content with it. He's not. Every loss is not any easier than the last one, no matter how many he inevitably loses. In a way, it's a testament to his heart. The way he will inevitably come to care for other people and feel for them, regardless of his own circumstances. It's something to admire about him. However, it also hurts him.

On the one hand, it makes him acutely aware of just how precious every moment he gets to spend with those close to him are. He doesn't take you for granted, in part because he understands all too well just how precious and fleeting these moments of peace and happiness are. He'll make every moment count, and he'll be open and vulnerable in his feelings. Because he is all too aware of the regret that comes from keeping things to himself until it is too little too late. Every goodbye will be accompanied by a sincere 'I love you' and a kiss that feels like the last with how much emotion he pours into it. Because, for him, it just might be the final one.

We know that Leon lives by the idea that 'it is your responsibility to those that died to keep going'. Dealing with the pain of loss in this way is not very healthy. But it's what he does. And that's also what's going to occur in this case. Lord knows he'll be a complete wreck for a long while. It simply makes me too sad to think about him having to carry something so heavy alone, so I can only hope he will have someone there for him during this process. He'll drink himself into oblivion, try and avoid all physical reminders of you, only to then cling onto every single little trace of you he has left, only for that cycle to switch again after a few weeks have passed.

So, how would he react to the loss of a significant other? Well, he'd be devastated. It's a dull ache he knows all too well, but it's so much worse when it's someone this important to him. He'd blame himself. He always does. Even if your death had nothing to do with his occupation, or it was a mere freak accident neither of you could have prevented, or even something that was long expected for one reason or another. He'll still blame himself first. Be it for failing to protect you, not being there to at least try and save, or just not spending enough time with you. Something small and mundane like him being too tired to watch that movie you wanted a week ago, or him being annoyed by you leaving that plate in the sink without washing it now feel like horrible mistakes he now regrets to his very core.

He just finds it easier to place the entire blame on himself, in a sense. Even though it simply has a detrimental effect on his mental health, he might feel somewhat in control by doing so. And that's better than feeling so utterly helpless.

Grieving is a process, and he'll have to go through every stage of it. I do feel like he is, unfortunately, likely to never move past the depression stage of grief. Unless he has someone there to pull him out of it, he is very much likely to just... never fully recover.

Regardless, I don't think he'd do anything to himself. He wants to. It's a want he knows well. But he doesn't let himself take the easy way out. He's not worthy of it. He owes it to you to keep going. So, he does. He picks himself up and keeps moving forward despite his brokenness and lack of direction. On missions, he will be notably more careless, which I believe could cause some issues. He may even be sent on a kind of 'forced vacation' because he is constantly putting himself in danger without thinking about his own safety and occasionally acting borderline suicidally. Losing someone as valuable as Leon S. Kennedy would be just too much of a loss.

Additionally, even after he recovers, I believe he will keep some of your belongings. Possibly a photo he holds especially dear, or a piece of clothing that you used to wear. It makes him feel a little bit closer to you even though it doesn't smell like you after all this time. I also think he'll make it a tradition to visit your gravestone every anniversary. He won't be able to do it for a year or two, but when he does, it will be a really therapeutic experience. He'll clean up the gravestone, leave out your favorite flowers and then have a quiet picnic of sorts, while telling you all about how he's been. I don't think Leon believes in afterlife, but... in these moments, it's a nice, wishful thought he can't help but indulge it. He wonders if you're there with him, laughing along to one of his jokes, or scolding him for not taking better care of himself.

I would like to think that his 'I don't deserve to kill myself because I owe it to them to keep going' mentality would eventually change into 'they wouldn't want me to die, they would want me to live and be happy'. With the support of those around him, hopefully. Even though the loss will always be painful, I hope that one day he will be able to look at a picture of the two of you and smile, even if it is with tears in his eyes. Instead of feeling guilty about not doing enough, I hope that one day he will be well enough to talk about your relationship with thankfulness for what he did get to do.

In any case, he will always hold a special place in his heart for you. Up until his own time comes. Be it in the heat of battle, or in peaceful sleep on his bed.

[thatfreshi]

I was wondering if you could write Astarion having to tend to a very cuddly drunk female Tav. Possibly having to defend her from other people trying to take advantage of her.

This took me on a very sad adventure

TW - blood and gore, attempted sexual assault, drinking

Recommended Song: Drew Barrymore - SZA

The nice thing about no longer being on wild adventures full of tadpoles and cultists is that you and Astarion can go out drinking like normal people. While your vampiric lover thoroughly enjoys a good glass of wine, he usually stops himself at one. Perhaps he's a little paranoid about you, your safety, but he insists not to have more than one when the two of you are out together. At the house? Sure, he'll finish two bottles with you, the two of you drunkenly laughing by the fireplace, but not when danger could be afoot. You try to tell him he's just anxious, tense, that you'll be alright.

"I'd rather just make sure my love. You indulge all you want darling, I'll be fine."

In one of the more rowdy taverns, you and Astarion sit at a table off to the side, watching people get drunk and dance, bumping into strangers, sometimes fights ensue. As per usual, he nurses his singular glass. You look at him, a gleam of sadness in your eyes.

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can just skip out tonight, maybe we can just drink later, when we get back."

"Nonsense, have your fun my sweet. I insist."

You squeeze his hand.

"Alright then, I'm off to get my second... you can tell me to stop anytime!"

You tease as you slowly walk away, almost backing up into a nearby half-orc. He simply smiles at you, one of those smiles that says everything he's thinking, how he thinks you're precious, how he'd gladly never get drunk again if it meant keeping you. Years ago, he would've never given up a vice for some person. But you, you make this feeling well up in his chest, like he has to hold you close at all times, worried someone will snatch you when he's not looking. You may make fun of him for simply being a paranoid person, but you made it a million times worse.

"I'm back!"

Your voice draws out, and you return with two mugs of beer instead of just the one.

"Already going for three darling? You do remember you're a lightweight, right?"

"I'll be fine. Besides, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor is here to take me home if I throw up on someone."

You lie against his arm, starting on your second drink.

"You did eat before we left the house, right my sweet?"

You look up at him silently. He just sighs, running his hand through your hair.

"Then why did you need to go to the kitchen before we left?"

You giggle a little.

"To... pre-game!"

The laughter rings out of your throat as Astarion sighs, again, more annoyed this time.

"So you're telling me-"

"Already gettin' drunk Aster, it's a great time."

The more and more you talk, the more he realizes your words are becoming more slurred. Perhaps he should've asked before you left, made sure you at least grabbed a bite.

"Alright, you stay right here, I'm going to get you some water and a little snack."

He gets up, swiftly grabbing the two mugs off the table while you protest.

"Hey, I wasn't done with those!"

As Astarion makes his way to the bar, asking for the classic drunkard's care package, he's suddenly nervous. Had you ever been this drunk in public before? Maybe the two of you should just go home, before you somehow get your hands on any more alcohol. After thanking the barkeep for the water and some bread, he comes back through the crowd, and sure enough you have left the table.

"Gods damn it Tav."

After setting down what was supposed to be your little pick-me-up, Astarion quickly moves through the groups of people, knowing you probably just got up to dance. The bard playing tonight was quite excellent after all. However, after looking through most of the common space, you're nowhere to be found. That feeling of panic starts to well up inside of him, where he's only driven by fear. He knows you can't be far, but he also knows most of the tavern-goers here are slimy, horrific people looking for their next bag of gold. Walking through the crowd again, Astarion comes near the back entrance, and hears a conversation down one of the abandoned hallways.

"A gal like you, surprised you're here alone."

He rounds the corner, seeing you and a bulky half-elf, your arms pinned above your head. You seem nervous, but not conscious enough to realize anything is truly wrong. Astarion stalks up behind the wretched man, wrapping his dagger around the half-elf's throat.

"No so alone anymore, are we?"

Your captor surprisingly doesn't stand down.

"You won't do shit. People know me around here, important people, they'd surely have your head if something happened to me."

"Not if I hide your body well enough. And trust me, I have experience."

The two of them are un-moving for a moment as your wrists start to go numb from the pressure. You groan in pain, only causing the half-elf to grab you tighter. As Astarion goes to press his blade into the man's neck, he whips around, pushing Astarion back. Gods, he's tall. You fall back against the wall, trying to nurse the pain in your hands. As Astarion and the stranger fight, you hear the sounds of blades colliding, but your head is spinning. Perhaps he was right about the whole 'eat before you drink' thing.

You're interrupted from your thoughts when you hear a loud thump on the floor. The half-elf almost knocked Astarion out. leaving him on the ground. The stranger then turns back to you, lifting you back up from the floor, going to open the back door.

"What a find. Can't wait to enjoy you."

In that moment, while trying to get his bearings, Astarion realizes this wasn't just someone threatening you, and that disgusting feeling fills his stomach. He remembers how many times he shared his body against his will, and the adrenaline of that anger is enough to get him back on his feet. As you and the half-elf make it out the door, Astarion rushes him, tripping one foot out from under him. And then he drives his blade into the stranger's back, again, and again, and again, and again, and again. He's covered in the sinner's blood, shaking with both rage and misery. The violent display helped sober you up just a little, enough to make you realize that Astarion has killed someone behind the bar, and that it was clearly deserved. He looks up, locking eyes with you, still holding his blade down, as if the dead man needs yet another plunging strike in his back.

"Astarion?"

You ask, your voice full of uncertainty, the past few minutes still a blur. He begins to cry, putting his dagger in the ground, slowly crawling over to where you've ended up on the ground. He holds you tight, almost to the point of pain. He doesn't say anything, and you simply watch the blood pour out of the man's corpse as he grips you tight. Flooding memories cover every space of his mind, seduction, imprisonment, and most of all, Cazador's death.

"Astarion... you're hurting my arm."

You say softly, not fully aware of just how distraught he is, still far too inebriated. You're sad though, because he's sad, and you can't quite put together why. He lets go, wrapping his arms under his legs, crying into his knees. You try to comfort him, despite your state.

"It's okay, it's over now."

You don't even know what's over, but if someone is dead and Astarion is still alive, he must've ended it.

"I know."

He chokes out those two pathetic words, looking back up at you.

"We need to leave."

The survival instinct kicks in, knowing he can't explain why this man has at least five stab wounds in his back. The second one of the bartenders finds this, it'll be over.

"Come, this way, we're going to take the back alley."

Snatching up your arm, Astarion leads you through the darkness, mumbling things to himself that you can't quite hear. The two of you move quickly through the night as you stumble around behind him. When the two of you get home, he gets you some water, leading you upstairs so you can lie down.

"Are you okay?"

Such an innocent question. He knows you'll remember tomorrow, that it's not like you're blacked out or anything, just confused.

"I'll be fine my dove. Get some rest now, it's alright."

It's as if he's trying to convince himself, but it's enough for you in your drunken stupor. You curl up into the heavy blanket cast across the bed, and he leaves a kiss on your head. Not long after, you're drifting off to sleep, exhausted.

As Astarion makes his way to the bathroom, he thinks of the horrific things that could've happened, of how cruel humanity is. He thinks about how you have to be the only truly good person in all of Faerûn. He'll never get all the blood off his face, not while you're asleep. His mirror, his sun, his everything, and you were almost tainted the very same way he was.

When you wake up the next morning, Astarion isn't in bed. You try to reach out groggily, looking for that embrace, only to be left with cold sheets. Thinking back on the night before, the memories start to filter in. The drinks, the half-elf, the stabbing, and Astarion sobbing. The full picture isn't entirely there, but there's enough pieces for you to realize. That man, he found you drunk in the tavern, and tried to take advantage of you.

You stumble out of bed, walking down the stairs, rubbing your eyes.

Astarion is in the kitchen, drinking some tea, his eyes bloodshot. You don't say anything, slowly walking up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He puts his tea down and rests his head on yours.

"Are you alright my love?"

"I'm fine. Are you alright?"

You make some space again, looking up at him, holding his hands in yours. They start to shake again, rage and misery. You move a piece of hair out of his face.

"He didn't do anything to me love, I'm okay."

"Just- the thought of- I-"

He tries to hold back the tears again.

"It's okay, you can cry. It's going to be okay."

With that allowance, the permission to let go, he cries again.

"I don't ever want you to feel like that Tav, the way I felt. It's so, disgusting."

"I know, but it's over Aster. It's over now. You're okay, we're okay."

You wrap around him again, and he continues to weep.

"I love you, so much, and they didn't ruin you, I promise."

That worry, that he'll never be the same, that he's forever fractured now, that a piece of him is gone. Innocence, what a loaded word. Those who are guilty make the innocent feel guilty, and those who are guilty feel powerful, and the cycle continues, always continuing. You stand in the kitchen for a long time, letting him get all of the pain out, your shirt sleeve wet with his tears.

"I just wish I didn't have to be scared anymore."

You frown, thinking on his statement, knowing that no one is ever truly safe. You'll both live in fear forever, of those that think cruelty is accomplishment.

"I know."

It's all you can say, because you can't lie and tell him there's a day he won't have to be scared, that one day all the monsters of the world will be gone. There's nothing to learn, no moral, no mistake to fix, just pain. Pain caused by those who greed after anguish.

"Do you think I've changed? Or am I just as I was, a scared, beaten slave?"

"Gods Astarion, of course you've changed. It's the world that hasn't. We're better than them though, even if that's all we have."

Neither of you reach any resolution, nothing that makes you feel better. Instead, you sit on the sofa by the fire, watching the wood go up in flames, softly speaking about the suffering. You lie in each other's arms, sad. Misery loves company, and the two of you sit in that aura of grieving for a long time, grieving his past, grieving what could have been a kinder world. But here, in this sacred space, where feelings are free to run wild, where you can cry as much as you need, that's the only place you're truly safe. And that's alright, as long as it's together.

[no-where-new-hero]

omg I need your thoughts on the terminally o line author culture bc ngl it makes my eye TWITCH, there are authors I deliberately avoid even tho I've heard their stuff is good bc they're like that 🙈

HHHHH oh good lord, okay, from how I see it, there are two angles on this, both aggravating and sad: the official decree one and the spontaneous ecosystem one.

The officious one is that the nature of publishing nowadays demands an author have an online presence. You need Twitter/X. You need to let every potential reader know your book is coming out. You need engagement through reviews and pre-orders incentives (if you buy now you’ll get a special keychain!!) and word of mouth assurances from your peers that yes your book is as cool as you say it is. You need a newsletter with links (more buying! more voting on lists that are simply popularity contests!) and promises you’re still working on the next thing, don’t forget about me in the morass of everyone else doing the same thing. You need an Instagram and TikTok now to post pretty pictures and videos because one or two authors made it big off this kind of promotion and now everyone thinks it’s the ticket to the bestseller list (sadly, it seems to be working). You need an OnlyFans (a joke but I do recall a twt spat that was a joke/not joke about how rupi kaur will always be more beautiful than her critics and people who took issue with the conflation of beauty with talent). At the end of all this, you’re basically an influencer, a content creator creating content for the content you should be focusing on creating, the finished novel. And the novel itself seems to be disappearing behind the masks used to promote it (fanfic-style tropes, moodboards, playlists, memes) until I now no longer trust the book that I’ll pick up to have any resemblance to the enticements that brought me here. I’ve seen an author or two complain about the stress all this self-promotion generates, but it’s become such an entrenched part of the industry, I think people just accept it. And thus spend too much time online hoping that if they tweet just a little more, produce just one more reel, maybe that’ll be the difference between a sale and no sale.

The other side of this, distinct but obviously connected, is the ecosystem created by this panic of being perpetually visible coupled with the fact that so many of the new authors came of age during the rise of internet fandom culture. That opinionated community mindset that blurs the line between anonymity and friendship is the lens they bring to their own work. I mean, it makes sense I suppose—if you love yelling about characters and words, why wouldn’t you do that once you start to produce your own? This really came home to me hearing about that reviewbombgate “scandal” and how people involved were in reylo circles and that was used to provide receipts. You’re interacting with your readers and peers about your intimate work but they are also all strangers. They will not always give you the benefit of the doubt, and now—as opposed to the past when maybe the worst that could happen was a handful of bad reviews in newspapers—you will either be tagged in hate reviews, sub-tweeted, explicitly called out, demanded to atone for your sins. It’s no longer the morality of consumption but the morality of production. Of course, the easy answer is just log-off, touch some grass. But that can work only when you and everyone else are separated by anonymous accounts or when you have no platform to maintain. As an author trying to make your livelihood from this, suddenly it’s do or die. We’re in a strange moment of authorship bringing the Internet’s echo-chamber and claustrophobic into the real world (this is a lie: publishing now is no longer the real world. But it looks like it) and thus you can kind of no longer escape things.

Will the average reader who isn’t aware of all these machinations care about reviewbombgate? Would a reader browsing at Target think about the controversies around Lightlark? Very likely not. But the impression I’m getting more and more is that the average reader isn’t the one buying all the books. Or shall we say—a bestseller’s status relies on bookstore stock. Bookstore stock is only huge when they know a book will be a good investment. They’ll only know a book is a good investment if it and its author has street cred based on booktokkers, bookstagram, bloggers and reviewers (have you noticed how many books out these last maybe 1-3 years have these kinds of accounts thanked in the acknowledgments? Yeah), and THESE are also chronically online people who will Know. And decide the cast of fate.

Honestly, @batrachised, I see why you avoid these kinds of writers, though I wonder how long it’ll be before the disease becomes epidemic.

[basilpaste]

was talkin to some pals about it so... imagine loop nille post game friendship in your mind.

(755 words below.)

You are out of Dormont. For the first time you can remember with any clarity... you're free. Are you free? What does that even look like. There's still a weight in your chest, still a burning star where your heart should be. Still just a star where something resembling the hollow corpse of a human once was.

You go. You flee. It's what you're good at, isn't it? Hiding away from all of your problems, putting on a show, becoming someone else? Nothing you've ever done has given you any reason to believe that would change. Stardust's "it's thanks to you" was a nice sentiment, but...

You're on the road. You move quickly, now. It's not as though you need to eat. Or to sleep, really. You're more of an idea than a person, after all! So it's easy to move, to keep going, to not stop until your body gives out on you.

You head for the coast. You follow no maps, no roads, just moving on instinct. Just following the brightest star in the sky. You try not to think about why doing so seems so simple. If you do, you'll lose it. You head for the coast, as if tugged along by some invisible string. Or by anything else that doesn't bring to mind a pull on your stomach.

You head for the coast. And eventually you do not just head for it, you make it there. You stare into the sky on the shore of a town you did not pay attention to the name of. You can see an island in the distance.

That place is gone. You know that. Of course you do. You can't spend forever searching for a place that does not want to be found. You can't waste your life on remembering something that can't be remembered.

Yet, still... you look to the brightest star, how it hangs above a place the world forgot. And you mourn. You bend down, grabbing a handful of darkless sand in your lightless fist, and toss the powder-stone into the sky. It hangs like dust in the air for a moment that feels eternal, and then plumets into the sea.

That is the moment you meet her.

"Hey there, stranger. What brings you to town?"

You spin on your heel, water lapping at your ankles. For a moment, it's like you've seen a ghost. For a moment, it's like seeing a vision of the future.

A young woman stares down at you, an eyebrow raised. Her hair is split into twin braids, she slings an oversized hammer over one shoulder. When she smiles at you, you see a face much younger than her own.

You are possessed by the urge to run away. To vanish into the night, to dive into the inky water and to never, ever resurface. Instead you plant your feet into the sand and wave as casually as you can bear to manage.

"Who, me? Just... ah... Fishing."

She laughs. Her shoulders shake with it, eyes crinkling into something fond. She looks weary far beyond her years despite it.

"Well." She says, putting a hand on her hip, "I'm not sure how much luck you're gonna get with your hands, stranger. Not unless you're trying to find a tidepool."

... Ah. Yes. You suppose you didn't think your little excuse through. You know that. You know how to fish. You did, once. You're not stupid.

"Hah! How true." You say. You can hear it fall flat.

She sizes you up. Despite yourself, you feel suddenly very exposed. What a strange stranger you are, right? Not even human. Most rational people keep a healthy distance from you. Some assume that you're merely a Sadness. You suppose that's not too far from the truth.

"It's late." She tells you after a long moment. "Bambouche is plenty welcoming. Don't stand in the sand all night."

A moment of understanding seizes you. You look at this woman and see something familiar. Not like before, no, something far more personal. Like a tidepool distorting your reflection.

She is asking you to stay. You've already made it to the shore, what reason do you have to flee? You look at her. She looks right back. You swear that you can see your eyes reflected in her own.

"Alright."

She grins and gestures for you to follow. You don't even have to think about it. Despite everything... you are still being led.

"You got a name, Stranger?"

You don't.

"Loop." You say.

"Pétronille."

[generational-atrophy]

helloooo can i request headcanons of allies x gn!vampire!reader? some questions for ideas: would they let their s/o drink their blood, who would love it, who would be scared, how would they react to their s/o telling them theyre a vamp. its up to you as to what kind of vampire u wanna write :3 !! i hope this isnt confusing, but ty if u write this !!

hetalia allies with a vampire s/o

1.0k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: mentions of blood and death (obviously)

a/n: getting sick in the summer is so stupid. girl just get better

America

”Woah, you're a vampire? Like from Blade?“ would be his first words once you tell him. It's almost like he doesn't even realize what being a vampire really entails. Which, to be fair, a vampire isn't any weirder than an alien (of which he's met many.)

Most of the time, he just thinks your vampirism is a cool quirk. More like a party trick if anything.

When it comes to feeding, he'd totally let you drink his blood. Not too often, but he doesn't mind. When you first try, he's more excited than anything. Who else's partner can do that?!

(Plus, he'd make it a personal mission to make a burger with enough blood that you can eat it. Seeing you at barbecues makes him too sad not to.)

He probably wouldn’t even remember that vampires are immortal until you’ve been dating for 100 years. Only then would he be like… wait a minute.

Alfred is accepting of a lot of things and is always willing to accommodate your vampiric habits, but don't expect him to suddenly become nocturnal and goth. He's out by 9 pm every night, that's not changing for anyone, supernatural or otherwise.

England

Arthur may seem like he's too stuck in ways to be cool with a vampiric partner, but he's also the guy who is friends with fairies. He probably knew you were a vampire even before you told him.

He doesn't mind at all. Being antisocial and traditional is really what he wants in a partner. Plus, your immortality comforts him greatly. He's possessive and paranoid so it's a real weight off his mind that you can't die by most means.

But, he doesn't appreciate the more gore-y aspects of vampirism much. No, you can't drink his blood unless you're literally on the verge of death. No, you can't bring your blood bags into the house. No, he's not gonna help you hunt. That's your own problem, be home by 6 am.

So, not scared, just uncomfortable.

Hopefully, you're the magic type of vampire, because he really needs some help with his spells, and being able to turn into a bat seems like a step in the right direction.

France

When it comes to your vampirism, Francis is very conflicted. When you tell him, he probably seems like he doesn't care, but that's not entirely true. On the one hand, he's arguably dated much worse, much stranger people, but on the other hand... ew, blood!

He is a little scared of you, especially if you ask to feed on him. He'd agree but burst into tears the moment your fangs get anywhere close to his neck. His love for you is never in doubt, but he'd be lying if he didn't keep a stake stored in his glove compartment. Just in case your friends start calling...

But the more romantic aspects of vampirism, that of immortality and eternal transience, he loves those parts of you. He's happy to finally share a life with someone who'll understand his fairy-tale view of the world.

Plus, he loves the night. If you want to be nocturnal, he'd be out with you most evenings. Just don't let him see you kill people.

China

Yao and a vampire would be a very… turbulent relationship to say the least. His lifestyle is not one a vampire would mesh well with at all, not to mention his superstitions would have you sleeping on the couch (or outside-) most nights.

No way in hell would he let you drink his blood. No. Never. He can get you some weird knock-off blood, just for his own peace of mind, but that's the most he would ever participate in your feeding habits. Don’t talk to him about it, he’ll yell to stop until you do.

Plus, he'd be so, so sad you can't eat his meals. How is he supposed to show he likes you now?!

In general, he'd be very freaked out that you're a vampire. He would say he's not scared, but in reality, he shivers whenever he sees your fangs. Although, he really doesn’t mind having someone who’ll be stuck with him for the rest of foreseeable time. Hopefully, you’re not that young either, he’d love a more traditional partner.

The first time you told him, you were forced out of bed early in the morning so Yao could drag you to some (very shady) religious leader's house to be “cleansed.“

Not a fun experience to have. But, as time goes on, he'd become more trusting and accepting. He has seen much stranger, after all.

Russia

Like a lot of deal-breakers, Ivan could not care less. When you tell him, it's like you said nothing at all. He's a man who's at peace with the supernatural (being somewhat supernatural himself,) so he doesn't mind at all.

If you asked to drink his blood, he'd be up for it! He'd be ecstatic, even. He finds it very romantic and he's always up to try new things. Luckily for you, you could probably suck all his blood and he'd wake up fine the next morning.

If any one of the allies would love your vampirism, it'd be him. He's completely cool with becoming nocturnal (easier to garden) hunting people (good old-fashioned family fun!) and doing weird magic stuff (did you see him come through the floor that one time?)

In fact, he'd probably seek out a vampire partner. It means you'll be with him forever, bonded in blood. (He’ll) you’ll never be alone again!

[callofdutyma]

You'll always be Mikey to me

Sano Manjiro x Fem Reader

As you walked up to Mikey’s house, you couldn't help but feel nervous. Over a year ago, he pushed you away and you two broke up. You tried to live your life without him, but you just couldn't take it anymore. Raindrops pelted your face, and you wiped them away with the sleeve of your sweater. Suddenly, you saw him walking towards you from down the street, wearing his Kanto Manji Gang jacket. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice cold and distant. You felt a lump form in your throat, and you struggled to find the right words.

You take a deep breath, and finally speak up. “Hey Mikey.. it’s been awhile.” you say softly.

“Manjiro. Sano.” He said harshly in intervals. The name has become like poison on his tongue. He is no longer the one people called "Mikey”, not anymore. He stood like a statue, still as death, his expression stern and unfeeling. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were cold and hard. He spoke with the harshness of a stranger.

“Mikey.. I miss you.” You say, looking into his eyes.

“You miss Mikey.” He was visibly angry at the mention of his old name. That was the past, he is different now. “Mikey is gone.” He glared at you, his eyes filled with rage. He couldn't stand the mention of his old name anymore, it was like a reminder of everything he lost. His voice broke as he spoke, his anger rising.

“No he’s not.. I refuse to believe my Mikey is gone!” You say firmly.

“I said Mikey is gone! That’s final!” He yelled, his eyes blazing with fury. He was angry but his heart ached with pain. His eyes were full of sadness, he was hurting so much. He wanted to go back to the old days when everything was fine, when his family and friends were still with him, but that was the past and it was gone forever. He wanted to cry but he refused to show his weakness.

You jump back in surprise, startled by his yelling, but you stand your ground. You step closer to him and look at him intently, “but I still love you!” you plead.

He looks at you, his eyes still glaring with anger. He didn't know how to react to your words. He felt numb. He didn't understand why you would care about him anymore. He was different now. He was no longer the kind and gentle Mikey you once knew. He was cold, stoic, and distant. What reason could you possibly have to still love someone like him?

“Mikey..” You say in a quiet voice.

“Don’t call me Mikey!” He said, his voice still filled with anger and sadness. He was in pain, and he couldn't understand why your feelings had not changed. He was different now. He didn't think he deserved anyone's love anymore, but his heart yearned for it. He closed his eyes, fighting against his conflicting emotions.

“But you’re Mikey!” You shout in a pleading tone.

He could feel his heart breaking with each word you said. He wanted to scream and cry, but he had to be strong, for you and for himself.

“Please...don't do this. Please.” He begged while closing his eyes, trying to hide his tears. He couldn't let you see him like this. “Mikey is gone! He's dead. I'm Manjiro Sano. That's the only name you can call me now.” He said, his voice shaky, and his eyes full of pain.

“I don’t believe you!”

He sighed, “then let me show you, let me prove it.” He turned away from you and clenched his fists tightly, so tightly his knuckles became white. He was on the edge of breaking down, but he refused to show it. Instead, he opened his eyes wide and shouted to the sky. “I’M MANJIRO SANO!” He yelled. “MANJIRO SANO, NOT MIKEY!”

You dart to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, and he freezes, his heart pounding as he felt your touch. He could feel your warmth and your love. He wanted to turn, he wanted to say something to you, but he didn't know what to say. He felt trapped by his own pain. He wanted to hold you too, but he didn't know how. He just stood there, trying to catch his breath, trying not to cry.

You bury your face in his back and grip his jacket with your hands. “Mikey..”

His muscles relaxed, his hand clenched less tightly, and his eyes closed. He felt weak and vulnerable, but safe in your arms. He could feel your love, still there just as it was when you were together, but he wasn't Mikey anymore. The love he felt from you was hurting him even more, because now he knew that he couldn't return that love, like he wasn’t allowed to.

“Mikey.. do you not remember this? do you not remember when we’d embrace each other? do you not remember our love?” You say, trying to trigger something in him that’ll make him finally give in to you.

He stood in silence, and a tear streamed down his cheek, but you couldn’t see it as you were still hugging him from behind. He was shaking. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to forget everything. He wanted to forget you. He wanted to forget the pain and suffering he had caused everybody, including himself. “Please..” He whispered, "don’t make me remember. It hurts too much..”

“But that’s not fair!” You shout. “I love you Mikey! so much! so please, come back to me.”

Your words stung, and he hated himself for it. He didn't know how to respond to you, and he didn't know what to do. He was trapped between his love for you and his hatred for himself. “But I can't go back to you!” He yelled, trying to control his voice, but it broke as he shouted, “I'm not the same guy anymore!”

“I don’t care! Mikey.. I know you remember it.. I know you remember our love. Remember when you used to lay your head in my lap? and i’d play with your hair? or when we’d take rides on your motorcycle, you’d pull over at random places, and we’d sit on the seat of your bike and watch the stars.. don’t you remember those things?”

“I..” He swallowed, his voice breaking. He held back his tears, “yes.. I remember.. but..” he paused, “that was the old me.”

“Mikey..” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please!” He said, his voice shaking. “Don't call me that anymore, don't!” All the pain, all the memories, all the regret, everything came back to him like a flood of emotions. “I'm Manjiro Sano. I'm not that gentle boy anymore!” He yelled. “I'm a killer, an addict, a monster and a failure. But worst of all, I'm alone. So, please!” He paused, “don’t remind me of the old me anymore.”

“You’re not alone!”

“I am!” He yelled, his voice filled with anger and bitterness. “I have nobody anymore! I lost everything! I can't trust anyone anymore! and now, I can't even trust myself!” He couldn't hold it in anymore. He felt so weak. He wanted to sink to his knees, but he refused to show his weakness. His eyes filled with rage, and his fists clenched tightly.

“You’re not! you have me!”

He tried to pull away from you, but you held onto him tightly. He could feel your love and your warmth as you continued to hug him firmly from behind. He wanted to return your love, he wanted to return your affection, but he just couldn’t.

“I can't do that! I have nothing left!” He shouted, trying to free himself from your grasp but failing. “I'm a monster, I kill people, I'm addicted to drugs and I can't even look at myself anymore! I'm broken!”

You continue to hold onto him tightly despite him trying to pull away, your arms are wrapped around his waist tightly as you cling to him from behind.

“Please!” He shouted, his heart breaking. “Please let go of me!” He wanted you to let him go, but at the same time he wanted you to hold him tighter. He wanted to go back to you, to the happy times you had together, but he couldn't. He refused to believe that he could. He didn't want to believe he was still capable of being loved.

“No Mikey! I won’t!”

“Why? why do you still love me? why do you still care?!” He yelled at you desperately, his eyes wide and his heart breaking as he stared off into the distance. He couldn't understand why you still loved him, why you still cared after everything he did. He hurt you by leaving. He hurt everyone in Toman by disbanding them. He hurt himself with drugs, and he hurt everyone around him with his violence and rage. How could you still love a monster like him? and what has he done to deserve such love?

“Because I do! you’re the man I love and always will love Mikey.” You say, sounding sure of yourself.

“But.. but why?” He asked desperately. “Why do you still love me? I hurt you. I hurt so many people.” He paused for a moment, “i’m not Mikey anymore. I’m not your boyfriend anymore. He’s gone. I’m a monster. I hurt everyone. So please.”

“No! You’re Mikey! stop saying you’re not Mikey!”

“I’m not! I’m not Mikey anymore!” He yelled desperately as he struggled to break free from your embrace. “I'm Manjiro Sano now.” He shouted, trying to make it clear to you.

He didn't want you to love him. He wanted to keep you far away from him, to keep you safe from his dark world, but when he heard your voice and felt your touch, his heart broke. He was weak, so weak.

You grip him tighter and continue to bury your face in his back, taking in his familiar smell as tears pour down your cheeks.

He was still struggling to pull free from your embrace, but he could feel your tears against his back as you cried. He could feel your love and affection. He wanted to push you away, but at the same time he wanted to say something to you. He wanted to say "I love you too" but he couldn't. He didn't have the courage to do it. The pain was too much for him to bear. He could feel it in his heart. He was weak, and conflicted.

“Mikey..”

He couldn't hold back his tears anymore. “Don't call me that!” He choked out, “don’t...don't remind me of that. That was the past, I'm not him anymore.” He didn't want to remember those memories, but you reminded him of everything he had lost, everything he had given up. He felt helpless, broken, alone. But most of all, he felt like he still loved you.

You take your hand and grab his as you continue to hug him from behind, intertwining your fingers with his.

His entire body froze as you took his hand. When your fingers intertwined, his heart ached. He still loved you, and he hated it.

Your hand grips his tighter and you nuzzle firmer against him.

“No..” He said as you held him tightly. “I can’t do this.. No..” He wanted to pull away, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt you. Your touch was both soothing and painful. The pain of loosing you was still fresh in his mind, but now he wanted to touch you again. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to love you again. But the thought of it made his heart ache. How could he love you again? He didn't deserve it.

“Why Mikey.. Why?”

“Because.. i’m not good enough for you anymore. I don’t deserve your love,” he cried, “i’m not the Mikey you used to know. I’m not the guy you used to love, not anymore.”

“You’ll always be Mikey to me!” You shout.

He froze. You said those words, and something broke in him. He finally broke. He still loved you after all this time. He still wanted you. He wanted to return your love. He wanted to be with you again, but he didn't know what to say. He wanted to say "I love you" and kiss you, but he didn't have the courage to do it. He was weak, hurting, broken and afraid. "I know," he says, "but I can't love you anymore. I can't be the guy you love, not anymore..”

Those words cut deep. He said he couldn’t love you anymore, and that hurt. Your tears started flowing rapidly, “that’s not fair.. I can’t.. I can’t live without you.”

He felt so much pain hearing that, because he couldn’t live without you either. His whole body shook, he didn’t want to let you go. How can he abandon someone he loves so much.. again?

You release your grasp on him and pull away, his words cut you deep, and it pushed you to your limit. You didn’t know he was lying when he said that. “Fine. Manjiro. I’ll go then.” There it was, you finally said the name, and Mikey’s heart shattered to pieces. You turn and start walking away.

“No please.. I need you.” It was a whisper from his lips. A whisper you didn’t hear as you continued to walk away.

“NO!” He shouted as he rushed to catch up to you, grabbing you by your arm and pulling you close to him. He could feel your warm body against his as he grasped tightly to you. He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to say he loved you. He wanted to tell you everything. He lifted your chin to meet his gaze, “I can’t live without you either,” he said in a quiet voice, “and I still love you.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him, “w-what?”

He looked deeply into your eyes and repeated himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “I...I love you. I always have.” He sighed, trying to get enough courage to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you the moment your face met, but he held himself back. He wanted you to say you loved him, and he wanted you to kiss him first. He could finally admit his love for you, but he couldn't act first. “I love you so much..” He said, his voice cracking, and barely audible as he fought back his tears.

“M-Mikey..”

“Kiss me.” His voice was a soft whimper as the word escaped his mouth. It was like a plea, a cry for your help. He wanted you to make the first move, because he couldn't do it alone. He wanted you to kiss him, because then he’d have the courage to kiss you again. He wanted your lips, your touch. He wanted everything about you. He wanted everything from before.

You grab his cheeks with both of your hands and pull his face down to kiss him. His whole body froze when your lips met. He could feel your love, your affection. He could feel everything he had before. A rush of emotions hit him like a tornado, and his eyes were filled with tears as he returned the kiss. It felt like a miracle, like a dream come true. It was him and you, and he felt like a human again. He returned your love and held you tight, his hands grasping you as he poured his emotions into this one kiss. The passion and intensity you’ve always shared was still there, as strong as ever.

He poured his love in each kiss, his hands roaming your back and hips as his body moved with yours. You moan softly, “Mikey.”

“I missed you.” He said between kisses. He could feel the passion growing between them; he craved more, and hearing you moan his name pushed him further. He couldn't control himself anymore, he wanted more than just your love. He wanted you, your body, and he wanted to make you his again. He kissed you harder and faster.

“I missed you too Mikey, so much.” You say in between the kisses, your breath heavy.

He pulled away from your lips, his breath shaky as he looked at you. He could feel your love for him again, and it felt so damn good. “I need you..” He let out a heavy breath. “I need you right now..”

“Take me.. Mikey.” You gaze into his eyes, your expression mixed with pure love and desire.

His hands gripped your waist and he picked you up in his arms. He took you inside his house and to his bedroom. He walked towards the bed and laid you down. He climbed on top of you, his body touching yours. His heart was pounding, his body was trembling, but his mind was steady. All he could think about was you, your love, your touch. He wanted to give it to you again, he wanted to make you his again. He didn't care about anything anymore. He didn't care about the consequences, he didn't care about himself. He only wanted to give it to you. To take out these intense feelings of love on your body.

“Mikey.”

“Shhh...” He said, his voice heavy with desire. His breath was shaky with excitement as he kissed your neck. He pressed his lips against your skin and started kissing you intensely. He could feel your body against his, every inch of it. He pressed his body even firmer against you. He didn't want to waste any part of it. He moved his lips towards your ear, kissing it. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them up near your head, and looked at you with an expression full of desire and lust.

You bite your lip and blush up at him.

“You're so damn cute.” He whispered as he kissed your cheek. He grabbed your chin, lifting your head until he looked directly into your eyes, his soft blond hair falling around your face. He could feel the love between you, the love that would never fade away. “Do you remember what I said?” He asked, his voice heavy with love. “I said I needed you right now. That I wanted you right now.”

You nod, and your body tingles. “I remember.”

“And now I'm gonna take what I need.” He whispered as he leaned down and kissed your lips again, his lips hungry for yours. His hands moved down your body, his breath shaky and his mind clouded from the desire he felt. He grips the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. Then he moves down to the waistline of your pants, pulling them off. He spreads your legs and starts trailing kisses up your thigh, and you moan softly. He bites his lip as he moves his face up, and gives a kiss to your panty covered slit. You gasp at the sudden contact, and he continues to kiss you through your panties, “mm” he moans. He starts sucking your clit through your panties, and your eyebrows tilt up as you take a handful of his blond hair, gripping onto it. He lets out a muffled groan, “god I missed this.” He says in a breathy voice. “I wanna make you feel good again. I wanna taste you again.”

You nod; giving him permission. He bites his lip again and pulls off your panties, letting out a heavy breath as he moves his face back down. He quickly encloses his mouth over your slit, and he lets out a low muffled moan. “Mmm, you taste exactly how I remembered.” He licks down your slit and slides his tongue in your entrance for a moment, then pulls it back out and licks back up your slit. You moan as he starts licking and biting your clit, each flick of his tongue and each nibble sending waves of pleasure through you. He sucks your clit, then he starts stimulating your whole vulva with his mouth. He sucks on your pussy lip, and then gives wet kisses to your slit, causing you to cry out in pleasure. He then encloses his whole mouth over your vulva and starts motor-boating it in a sensual way. You arch your back, pushing yourself firmer against his mouth, and he lets out a little moan and a chuckle. He now licks up and down your clit and all around your vulva, his pressure is perfect, not too hard, not too soft. You could feel a knot growing within you, and your moans became louder. He flattens out his tongue against your clit and starts flicking it from left to right, and you were now getting close. “You like that baby girl?” He asks in his usual chirpy voice.

You nod, “mhm.. i’m so close Mikey.” You moan, and your body starts to twitch against him as you grip his hair harder. He moans at your words, then he hardens his tongue and flicks it more frantically, “that’s it baby, feel good for me.”

Your body shoots up and your back arch’s as you climax, your lower body twitching against him. He holds his mouth in place over your vulva, not moving, just letting you cum against his mouth. He lets out deep muffled whimpers against your pussy as you cum, and his length throbs in his pants.

He moves his mouth down a little to your entrance, where he slurps up your juices. “Fuck yeah baby, you’re so tasty.” He says as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mikey gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he gets off the bed and stands up. He unbuttons his jacket and begins to undress, and you can't help but watch in awe. He lets his gang jacket fall to the floor, and he smiles at you as he takes off his shirt and reveals his muscular upper body. You feel your heart skip a beat as he then unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his pants, letting them fall off and kicking them to the side. You can't help but feel a rush of desire as you gaze at him, the moonlight shining in through the window casts a soft glow on his muscular upper body and legs, making him look even more striking and handsome. His blond hair is slightly messy, adding to his rugged and masculine charm.

He looks at you with a playful grin, the familiar grin he’d always give you, and you know your Mikey is really back. “You’re looking at me like a lovesick puppy. You sure you can handle all of this?” He says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, I can handle you just fine.. but you know that already.” You grin.

Mikey lets out a chuckle, “I sure do.” He says as he steps closer to you, and you can see his hardness through his boxers. You sit up and raise a hand to start stroking him through the fabric, and he lets out a low moan. You slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pull them off of him. He lets them drop and kicks them to the side, his muscular legs and abs flexing with the movement. You wrap your small and soft hand around his length, and he moans at the touch.

You slowly begin stroking him, and he moans again softly. You bring your thumb to his tip, and rub it in gentle circles, causing him to hiss in pleasure, the sensitivity driving him wild with desire. “Oh god baby.” He moans.

You take a hold of Mikey's shaft and lean in closer. You lick up his length, causing him to shudder and let out a deep breathy moan. You soften your tongue against his tip and draw circles over it, causing his dick to twitch with how hard he was getting. “Oh fuck.” He says in a breathy voice. You take his tip in your mouth, and give it a gentle suck. Mikey’s eyebrows furrow in pleasure, “oh.. oh shit.”

His hand grips the back of your head, and his dick continues to pulse. You take his full length in your mouth, creating suction with your lips. His tip grazes the back of your throat, and he lets out a breathy whimper. His whimpers are high pitched, matching his usual chirpy voice.

You begin sucking him, moving your head in a cork-screw motion. “Hnnh! oh god baby..” He says and bites his lip. You take him as deep as possible with every suck, letting his tip continuously hit against the back of your throat. His eyebrows tilt up, and he lets out a “hah” sounding whimper.

“Want me to suck harder?” You say.

Mikey’s dick twitches at your words, “yeah, holy shit, yeah, you know I do baby.” He says, his breath hitched.

You speed up and create as much suction as you can, Mikey’s whimpers become more frantic, and his moans more desperate. He lets out continuous high-pitched and needy sounding moans, “nnnh, hnnh,” he moans with every suck, and the sounds he makes causes your pussy to throb. He lets out a breathy and whimpery “fuck” then another “nnh fuck” in his chirpy voice.

As you continue to suck, you begin grazing your tongue over his tip with each motion, and he lets out even higher pitched whimpers. He could feel himself getting close, “oh yeah.. nnh.. oh fuck.. oh.. fuck..” You take your hand and start gently caressing his balls, and his eyes widen, “oh shit.. baby.. oh shit..” You speed up your sucking, and he lets out frantic hiccupy moans as he releases inside of your mouth, he holds your head in place and his body twitches, “nnh! fuck.. fuck!”

You take in every last drop and swallow, feeling the warm liquid caressing your throat. You let out a muffled moan, your mouth full.

He releases his grip on your head, and you pull your mouth off of him. You look up at him and lick your lips with a grin, and he shakes his head at you with a smirk, “you’re naughty, so naughty.” He says as he pushes you on your back gently and gets on the bed to lean over you. He looked at you with pure love and lust in his eyes, he’s so in love with you, and he needs to express his love, so badly, he needs to take out these intense feelings on your body.

“I’m your man,” he breathed, “and you’re my girl. You’re mine, and only mine.”

“You’re my Mikey.” You say, returning his gaze.

“Always. I'll always be your Mikey.” He said as he kissed your neck. “I love you, I need you, just as much now as I did before.”

He grabs his length and positions his tip to your entrance, he couldn’t hold back his lust for you any longer. He slides himself in, and he lets out a prolonged moan as he takes in your walls. His mind was clouded. He could finally have you again. He could feel every part of you again. You were his, and you never stopped being his. He wasn’t gonna let you go ever again.

You moan softly, the feeling of being filled by him made your body hot with desire. “I love you Mikey.” You say, your breath hitched.

“I love you too.” He said in a gentle voice, before trailing kisses down your neck. His hand gripped your hips, and he started thrusting in and out of you. He licks and nibbles the skin on your neck as his thrusts speed up, his tip grazing your sweet spot with each one. “I need you,” his words were breathy and desperate, “I want you.”

“Then have your way with me.”

“Oh, I will.” He whispered, his breath shaky with excitement. His mind was filled with so many emotions, from love to lust. He couldn't contain himself anymore, as he then started pounding into you fast and hard.

You moan and bite your lip, and Mikey lets out a whimpery grunt with each thrust. His lips meet yours, his tongue plunging into your lips. Words can’t describe the passion you two share, and how much your bodies crave each other, it’s always been this way.

You moan and then speak in a quiet and breathy voice, “I knew my Mikey wasn’t gone.”

His mind cleared when he heard that, your voice sending a jolt of electricity through him. “I'm not gone, baby.” He said between moans as he moved faster and deeper. “I’ll never be gone anymore. Not as long as you're with me..”

Tears form in your eyes from the pleasure and his words. He gazes at you and brings his thumb up to catch your tear from falling. He loved you, he loved you so damn much.

He smacks his body into you even harder and deeper, and you moan louder. Mikey’s grunts turn to full on whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy. His body trembled from the pleasure, and he could feel himself getting close. He moans desperately, and his facial expression sends a jolt of heat directly to your groin. His eyebrows are tilted up, his blond hair is sticking to his face slightly from sweat, his mouth is parted and he has a needy look on his face. Your eyes glimmer at the sight, god this man is beautiful.

His whimpers become more loud and high pitched as he chases down his orgasm, and your walls pulsate around him as you chase down yours as well. The frequent squeezes of his length make him cry out in pleasure, and he lets out a whiny “fuck” as you both cum.

He spills every last drop inside of you, and then hisses as he gently pulls out. He gazes down at you, panting, and rests his forehead against yours. “God I missed you baby..” He says in a gentle voice.

“I missed you too.” You say softly. “Don’t leave me ever again.. don’t push me away ever again.”

“I won’t, I promise.” He collapsed beside you and pulled you close, wrapping you in his arms.

“You won’t throw Mikey away again?” You say.

“Never.” He said, he could never lie to you. “I’ll always be your Mikey. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll always love you. You were always my girl. You never stopped being my girl. Not for a moment.”

Tears form in your eyes and stream down your cheeks. You look up at him as you lay your head on his chest. He wipes your tears and kisses you on the forehead. “My baby.” He said as he looked down at you. You were finally his again. The only love he could ever want in his life, the only girl he could ever love. His mind couldn't help but remember all the nights he had spent alone, cold and empty. He had been empty for so long, forcing himself to stay away from you. You look up at him with pure love in your eyes, and he grabs a handful of your hair, smelling it. You smile up at him, and he returns the smile.

Mikey’s eyes catch the moonlight shining in through the window, and an idea comes to his mind. “How about a late night motorcycle ride?” he says in his usual chirpy voice, smirking.

You feel a thrill of excitement at the thought, and you nod your head eagerly. You both get up and get dressed, then you both head outside to the motorcycle.

You feel the cool breeze on your skin. It's a mild night, and the stars twinkle in the sky above you.

As Mikey sits on the bike and starts it up, you feel a sense of nostalgia wash over you. You climb on the back, the sound of the engine filling your ears, and you can't help but smile at the memory of all the times you've ridden together. You really missed the sound of Mikey's CB250T, it's like music to your ears. The bike rumbles to life, and you wrap your arms around him. You feel his muscles tense under your touch, and you hold on tight as he takes off. The wind whips through your hair, and you feel alive and free.

Mikey looks at you in the rearview mirror, taking in how beautiful you looked right now. The moonlight shines down on you, highlighting your features and making you glow. Your hair whips around your face, and your smile lights up the night. His eyes glimmer at the sight of you, and he can’t help but smile.

Mikey focuses his eyes back on the road, and after a long ride, he pulls over at a secluded spot and turns off the engine. He looks at you with a smile, “wanna watch the stars? like old times?” he asks. You feel your heart swell with happiness and nostalgia, “i’d love to.” you say.

You both sit on the seat of his bike, staring up at the night sky. He wraps his arms around you tightly, and you both feel at peace, grateful to have each other again.

[edenmemes]

asoiaf: clash of kings starters

❝ people often claim to hunger for truth,   but seldom like the taste when it's served up. ❞ ❝ the brightest flame casts the darkest shadow. ❞ ❝ lawless men are everywhere in this dark time. men with cold steel and colder hearts. ❞ ❝ there's no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it. ❞ ❝ he who hurries through life hurries to his grave. ❞ ❝ if half an onion is black with rot, it is a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil. ❞ ❝ some men are like swords, made for fighting. hang them up and they go to rust. ❞ ❝ sometimes i feel as though you are the best friend i have and sometimes i feel you are my worst enemy. ❞ ❝ i want to weep. i want to be comforted. i’m so tired of being strong. ❞ ❝ crowns do strange things to the heads beneath them. ❞ ❝ i see a deep sadness written upon your face. could it be the sadness of a lost dream? ❞ ❝ this is not you, not your way. you were always just, always hard yet never cruel. ❞ ❝ if you would take a man’s life, you owe it to him to look him in the face and hear his last words. ❞ ❝ how i have yearned for the sound of your sweet voice. ❞ ❝ i do not like being lied to. leave me out of your next deception. ❞ ❝ i will hurt you for this. i don't know how yet, but give me time. a day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid. ❞ ❝ there are no men like me. there’s only me. ❞ ❝ i will not claim to bear you any great love, no, but i cannot hate you either. ❞ ❝ the only way to keep your people loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. ❞ ❝ there is a sweet innocence about you. ❞ ❝ mercy. that’s a bloody trap. too much and they call you weak, too little and you’re monstrous. ❞ ❝ it is better to be seen as cruel than foolish. ❞ ❝ i’ve waited for you, oh, so many times. now you must wait for me. ❞ ❝ no one has ever died of restlessness, but rashness is another matter. ❞ ❝ i’m not a child, to be soothed with empty promises. ❞ ❝ only blood can wash out blood. ❞ ❝ don’t ever touch me, or i’ll kill you. ❞ ❝ we have leagues to go, and dangers to face. you will need your strength. ❞ ❝ i cannot sleep at night for thinking of your beauty. ❞ ❝ so many vows...they make you swear and swear. defend the king. obey the king. keep his secrets. do his bidding. your life for his. but obey your father. love your sister. protect the innocent. defend the weak. obey the laws. it’s too much. no matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other. ❞ ❝ somehow i have a feeling i am not going to like what you’re about to say. ❞ ❝ kings have no friends. only subjects and enemies. ❞ ❝ you must be still, you are grievously hurt. you will do yourself great injury. ❞ ❝ your heart is noble, but learn a lesson here. we cannot set the world to rights. ❞ ❝ i mean to be a king, and not of a broken kingdom. ❞ ❝ when i make threats, you’ll know it. ❞ ❝ do you want me dead? is that it? the truth now. ❞ ❝ this time i have to find my own way, and it is hard. so hard. ❞ ❝ i am afraid, but i must be brave. ❞ ❝ it grieves me that it must come to this. ❞ ❝ the kingdom bleeds, and no one lifts a sword to defend it. ❞ ❝ we shall see who is laughing when all of this is done. ❞ ❝ the unseen enemy is always the most fearsome. ❞ ❝ would you like one? you’ve never tasted anything so sweet, i promise you.❞ ❝ i knew a man once who told me i smiled at the wrong things. ❞ ❝ i would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told. ❞ ❝ there is an empty place within me where my heart was once. ❞ ❝ men like that...too honest to live, too noble to shit. ❞ ❝ if truth be told, i’ve never liked you. ❞ ❝ song and laughter have become suspicious strangers to me. ❞ ❝ only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him. ❞ ❝ the storms come and go, the waves crash overhead, the big fish eat the little fish, and i keep on paddling. ❞ ❝ mountains rise and fall, rivers change their courses, stars fall from the sky, and great cities sink beneath the sea. even gods die, we think. everything changes. ❞ ❝ i will not be mocked to my face, do you hear me? i will not! ❞ ❝ most sellswords would betray anyone for enough gold. ❞ ❝ tell me that none of this troubles you...and i’ll name you a liar. ❞ ❝ was there ever a war where only one side bled? ❞ ❝ great wrongs have been done you, but the past is dust. the future may yet be won. ❞ ❝ i am growing strangely fond of you.   i may kill you yet, but i think i’d feel sad about it. ❞ ❝ ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow. ❞ ❝ courage and folly are cousins, or so i’ve heard. ❞ ❝ a curious way of fighting. it looks suspiciously like hiding. ❞ ❝ whatever enemy waits out here will not find us so easy to deal with. ❞ ❝ love is poison. a sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same. ❞ ❝ schemes are like fruit, they require a certain ripening. ❞ ❝ i can smell the fear on you. ❞ ❝ when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. ❞ ❝ no royal is ever late. those who arrive before them have come early, that’s all. ❞ ❝ power resides where men believe it resides. no more and no less. ❞ ❝ you would not force me to reveal all my little secrets, would you? ❞ ❝ sorcery is the sauce fools spoon over failure to hide the flavor of their own incompetence. ❞ ❝ there are ghosts everywhere. we carry them with us wherever we go. ❞ ❝ you stop feeling, you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight, the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next. ❞ ❝ terrible times breed terrible things. ❞ ❝ i do not beg. of anyone. mind you remember that. ❞ ❝ betray me, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. ❞ ❝ i do not require your understanding. only your service. ❞ ❝ would that bones could talk. this fellow could tell us much. how he died. ❞ ❝ the wide world is full of people wanting help. would that some could find the courage to help themselves. ❞ ❝ a frightened man is a beaten man. ❞ ❝ the ones who look the most suspicious are likely innocent. it's the ones who look innocent i need to beware. ❞ ❝ it is peaceful here, but for how long? ❞ ❝ the man who kills his own blood is cursed forever in the sights of gods and men. ❞ ❝ a sweet dream. now put it aside, i beg you. it can never be. ❞ ❝ you’re as bad an omen as any raven. ❞ ❝ this is no game, so don’t play the child with me. ❞ ❝ my life is a poor thing, but it is yours. ❞ ❝ they will not love me, you say? when have they ever loved me? how can i lose something i have never owned? ❞ ❝ they're all afraid of me. no one will hurt you again, or i'd kill them. ❞ ❝ i had begun to fear for you. did you meet with trouble? ❞ ❝ i grow ever more admiring of you. ❞ ❝ i’d sooner hold a wine goblet than a battle-axe. ❞ ❝ a lord never lets sentiment get in the way of ambition. ❞ ❝ if you have something to say, say it. ❞ ❝ how can i do my duty if i do not know where it lies?❞ ❝ don’t look at me, not...not like this...not you. ❞ ❝ i’ve broken laws, but i’ve never felt evil until tonight. ❞ ❝ are you here to serve me? or to vex me with arguments? ❞ ❝ men do not love me. they follow me because they fear me. ❞ ❝ why would people run off and leave their homes and everything? what could scare them so much? ❞ ❝ fear cuts deeper than swords. ❞ ❝ let us not get into the habit of names. names are dangerous. ❞ ❝ i do not relish being played for a fool. ❞ ❝ you have said nothing that requires forgiveness. ❞ ❝ perhaps you are wiser than i knew. ❞ ❝ a good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. each should have its own reward. ❞ ❝ you set us a battle we cannot hope to win. ❞ ❝ learn to use your ears more and your mouth less. ❞ ❝ sleep a bit. when you wake, all this will seem a bad dream. ❞ ❝ why should men fight and die for you? ❞ ❝ fuck your questions. you’ll choke on them before you get any answers from me. ❞ ❝ i am certain of nothing in this fickle and treacherous world. ❞ ❝ a good lord comforts and protects the weak and helpless. ❞ ❝ is a secret still a secret if everyone knows it? ❞ ❝ look around you. they’re all liars here...and every one better than you. ❞ ❝ i have a role to play, and you must do the same. ❞ ❝ sadly, no victory is without cost. ❞ ❝ this is evil, unthinkable...please, listen to me. ❞ ❝ is that what troubles you, that some fool call you cowardly? ❞ ❝ you must forgive me if i have spoken to you harshly in the past. ❞ ❝ a sweet offer...yet sweets can be poisoned. ❞ ❝ how beautiful you look tonight. ❞ ❝ the day is won, and yet you do not smile. the living should smile, for the dead cannot. ❞ ❝ the time for talk is done. now we see who is stronger. ❞ ❝ i am no stranger to nightmares. ❞ ❝ so much villainy; it sings a sad song for our age. did honour die with our fathers? ❞ ❝ some men are born to be killed. ❞ ❝ come if you like, but if you can’t keep up, don’t think that i’ll nurse you along. ❞ ❝ i will kill him. i swear it. i swear it. ❞ ❝ this is madness, but sooner madness than defeat. defeat is death and shame. ❞ ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞ ❝ when i require your counsel i shall ask for it. ❞ ❝ will you put away your blade? ❞ ❝ need an escort? the talk is, the streets are dangerous. ❞ ❝ it is ill to keep a lady waiting. ❞ ❝ kneeling won’t save you now. stand up. ❞ ❝ you’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you? why? ❞ ❝ do you think i wish to be here? ❞ ❝ don’t you know how i have cared for you, lived for you, loved you despite all? ❞ ❝ see, there is nothing to fear. ❞ ❝ you have a cheerful way of grieving. ❞ ❝ a dream, that’s all it was. it meant nothing. ❞ ❝ a dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. ❞ ❝ the gods give with one hand and take with the other. ❞ ❝ only a man like you would be proud of such an act. ❞ ❝ i cannot answer for the gods. ❞ ❝ it’s swords i need, not blessings. ❞ ❝ you look very lovely today. ❞ ❝ they said you were dead. ❞ ❝ all sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days. ❞ ❝ you need me, whether you care to admit it or no. ❞ ❝ be quiet and kiss me. ❞

[msanonymous]

“How do you become a poet?”

Always looking/ Hardly speaking/ Defending the moon/ Disappearing from the room/ As if you were never even there/ Drinking more caffeine than breathing air/ Instead of falling in love with smiles, looking at them & just wondering why they don't reach it to that person's eyes?/ Instead of getting lost in the eyes, reading the sadness in them & wondering why they cried themselves to sleep at nights?/ Unsaid words, lots of them, so many that your mind gets fully clogged up with them, & at nights they threaten to spill out from your eyes as teardrops/ Unsent letters, loads of them, too many hidden well in your secret drawers, because of the fear of one accidentally landing in someone's letter box/ “Where is your home?”/ I don't know/ Strangers to friends. Within years. Friends to strangers again. Within a heartbeat/ I think I've seen this film before & I didn't like the ending/ Too many films of memories, playing in your head all together at the same time/ Too many stories of your life, having the similar last page, with the same last line/ “You are not enough!”/ Am I really not made for love?/ Lying to the whole world. “I'm fine”/ Lying to your therapist. “I'm fine, other people have it so much worse than me”/ Lying to your parents. “I'm fine.” “Then why are you crying?” “I'm not, I'm fine”/ Lying to yourself. ‘I'm fine.’ ‘No, you're not. You know you're not.’ ‘I know! But does it matter? No. It doesn't. There are hearts more hurt than ours.’ ‘But then why are you crying?’/ Daydreams & what-ifs/ Always finding yourself at the edge of the cliffs/ Envying & smiling sadly at the people who are poetry/ “I read your poem. It's beautiful!” What about me?/ Not touching your diary for months/ Then writing 6 poems in a day, after receiving 6 brand new cuts/ When no matter what pen you choose to write with, fountain, ball point, glitter gel, the ink you'll see after completing the last line will all be blood/ & then there's suddenly blood everywhere. Blood, so much blood. You lift your shaky hands & find both of your palms covered in it. You cover your eyes with them & sob, drowning in your own flood/ & you just keep praying to God for it to be your own. That the cracks of heart from all this blood seeped through, please God, let it be mine. Let it be mine/ The world hurts you enough everyday. But the last thing you want to do is to hurt the world back in your lifetime/ Mastering the art of stitching the wounds. But never for yours/ Other people have it so much worse. You don't deserve any of the cures/ Letting the wounds you think you deserve bleed/ Continuously, trying to not pay the pain any heed/ But still failing/ & weeping & weeping/ Then picking up the quill & dipping it in the aorta of your heart/ & attempting to create art/ But I think I'm not the right person to answer this question/ Because I am too inexperienced & unfamiliar with that profession/ Because as for me, I'm just a girl looking out of her window, waiting for someone to come & look at her/ & just not look away after/ I'm not a poet, how can I never be?/ But I do think/ That poets are not something that people become/ It's a mask. That people buy one day, at the price of heartbreaks & shattered hopes, to put on & hide the ugly & weak personas of them/ It's something people have to do, you know?/ Because the world can barely tolerate the poets. How many more wounds do you think you can sustain? & how many rocks do you think the world will throw?/ When you'll step out of your room/ As you?

~ms.anonymous

[werewolveswithdiaries]

and you can be fine for a few days, weeks, months, and then it suddenly hits in violently foamy waves. depression: a mental disorder characterised by pervasive feelings of sadness, worthlessness, total loss of interest, emotional numbness, often accompanied by trouble sleeping, eating normally, functioning.

you thought you killed that part of you this time but it returned.

suddenly getting up from the bed in the morning became the heaviest chore and a few days later you woke up with horrible pain because even going to the bathroom is too heavy.

and it spirals bigger and bigger: messy room, matted hair, foul smelling kitchen, rotten food, unfinished dishes, incomplete assignments, absences from work or school, sweaty and dirty bedsheets.

friends become strangers, messages are left on unopened or seen, social outgoings are far away in your rear view mirror. it is not that you do not care, but you cannot help yourself up. you care but your chemically imbalanced brain does not.

doing anything at all feels like trying to climb up a big rock on a slippery mountain trail while you have chains around your ankles and being pulled behind.

time is so much slower, painfully slow and consuming. showers sting now, blood glued on your sleeves, hidden bloody tissues. “you should clean up, you risk an infection” but how could you bother when all is meaningless?

it feels like it s always been this way, it feels that you have no escape.

tears form in your eyes as you realise you do not even have the energy to hold up a pen and write the goodbye letters - just in case.

people worry, you hate yourself for not being able to mind what they re saying, all words spoken to you are fading far away into distance.

you can feel yourself disappearing, a body left without any emotionality. you are too exhausted to even be frightened about what s happening to you.

it s all so heavy. everything is blank. hopelessness. a hole sucking and shattering everything that ever matter. nothingness. despair.

i want to get out, please get me out

[icycoldninja]

Could you write the dmc boys and v with a reader with psychosis...?

Yeah, sure.

Sparda boys + V x Reader with psychosis headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante isn't really familiar with psychosis and what it does to someone who suffers from it, but he tries his best to be there for you anyway.

-He's very chill and patient with your mood swings, and is always there to calm you down if you start to get too angry, too excited, too sad, etc.

-Dante also makes sure you never feel lonely because you're literally never alone. He is constantly by your side, and if he has to leave for any reason, he texts or calls you whenever he can, reminding you of how much he loves you and that he'll be home soon.

-Dante will hold you when you start to hear voices, or if you suddenly become extremely confused. He doesn't quite understand what you're going through, but he tries to take care of you anyway.

-Reminds you to take your medications when you forget.

-Lies down with you every night and cuddles you, telling you how proud he is of you because you can still enjoy your life despite your illness. He loves you and he's gonna help you on your recovery journey, no matter how wild it gets.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil understands that psychosis involves mood shifts, hearing voices, and erratic behavior, but not much else.

-He finds it rather eerie when you start mumbling to yourself, but reminds himself that you're not possessed, just going through a phase, for lack of a better term.

-Being the orderly, MOTIVATED man that he is, Vergil has a detailed schedule for you taped up on the kitchen cabinet with reminders to take your medication, to eat, and when you should go to bed.

-Keeps a close eye on you daily, watching for any signs of worsening behavior. If he does notice you're starting to act a little stranger than usual, he will pull you aside and find some way to distract you or calm you down.

-Tries his best to keep psychosis triggers well away from you, but first, he has to learn what they are. Cue the research montage!

-After extensive studying, Vergil can now identify possible triggers and keep them at bay, ensuring your safety, because that's how he shows his undying love for you.

□ Nero □

-Nero knows very little about mental illnesses since he's never had to deal with them much until now.

-He was a little unnerved by your occasional detachment from reality, because you seemed so unstable and...insane. It scared him to think he might be losing a little bit of his baby every day.

-He makes a serious effort to keep you grounded in reality and focused on things so he doesn't have to hear you mumbling to the "people" in your head.

-Comforts you during your mood swings and disoriented episodes. Even if you aren't entirely sure where you are at the moment, know that Nero is there to protect you.

-Tries to limit your contact with potential triggers. He insists on going shopping and to busy places alone, only bringing you along if you absolutely insist.

-He also spends nearly all his free time with you so you never feel lonely or upset, because the last thing he wants is to see his darlin' cry.

● V ●

-All V wants is to be there for you, to assure you that everything is alright and you have no reason to be afraid, or upset.

-He tells you this every day while holding you close, giving you gentle massages, and pressing kisses to your face.

-He will grab hold of you during your psychotic episodes and will simply cradle you in his arms until you calm down, shushing you and assuring you that you're safe.

-His familiars help too; Griffon's jokes lighten the mood when you're feeling sad and Shadow's fluffy fur distracts you when you're angry.

-V encourages you to pick up writing poetry as a hobby. It's a great way to express your feelings when spoken words just aren't enough.

-If you take his advice, you two goofy nerds can start a poetry club together, which, believe it or not, will likely do wonders for your mental health.

[tgrailwar-zero]

Ech.

Hey, old man? Sorry about all this. There's definitely some of us in here that object to... well, all this.

I'm sorry for the trouble we're about to cause you, as well. Believe me or don't, it doesn't change the fact that I am. But as I said, we don't have a choice. Struggle all we like, we cannot escape our curse.

If this goes the way it went before, you'll just be another someone to "kill" us. Then, I wager, the curses that bind us will just drip and drain and collect back together, and we'll be back where we started. Unable to die. If we were that easy to kill, we would've never been such a dreaded monster.

I could think of two ways to free us. The thing that did this to us dies...

... or "Bennosuke" cuts us down.

It has to be her. Her blades reached the apex. She could sever our karma. She could free us.

I couldn't ask the her who called us friend. I couldn't burden her like that, even if my voice reached her. But "Bennosuke" is a stranger to us. She wouldn't regret pointing her swords at us.

Honestly, it's selfish. Our severance would not dispel the thing that made us. It would simply become someone else's burden. But at least this one meager voice is tired of being the monster.

...

...

You seem a good man, Sir Blacksmith. I'm sorry, but our curse also made us unable to hear your name.

Perhaps it's late for courtesies, but... as a monster, we were called The Interlopers. As a being that wants to escape that fate, we go by the Patchwork Gestalt.

If you do manage to succeed where heroes and legends failed... if you do cut us down, and actually free us... you can pick the name that goes on our grave. I'm too tired to object, anymore...

You all are sort of… obscenely bad at being evil. Truly, never a faster way to knock the wind out of the sails of a good person fighting for something righteous than to just get really sad about it.

BLACKSMITH: "…"

BLACKSMITH: "…"

BLACKSMITH: "…"

I mean... how is someone supposed to respond to something like that? Do you know? I'm great with people and I don't have a clue.

BLACKSMITH: "…You're just sort of pathetic, ain't ya? If you make your essence miserable, it'll spread like a mold, you know that? I'm gettin' the feelin' that killin' you would put that 'mold' on my blades, and I'd have to scrap 'em."

He finally managed to put a cohesive thought together, after a lot of thought. He didn't sheath his katana, but he did lower it, seeming more... confused? Perturbed? Disquieted? Pick your poison.

He didn't know what in the world you were talking about, as usual, but you certainly seemed much less threatening.

BLACKSMITH: "I guess."

BLACKSMITH: "I'm sorry, once the kid started grabbing her head in pain, I was more concerned about her than whatever the hell you had to say."

BLACKSMITH: "But... fine. I'll take you to her. You'll say your bit. But if she says 'no' and you try any funny business, and I'll cut your head straight off. Got that?"

He turned around, walking down the street paths. You approached the shop that the children and Bennosuke were in, noticing that the doorway was littered with the carcasses of slaughtered monsters.

You heard the eighth chime.

You entered as she was in the middle of telling a story to the children, calming them down in this period of distress. Her expression lightened as she saw the Blacksmith, but then suddenly darkened as she saw who was accompanying him, jumping to her feet.

She quickly drew her katana, stepping in front of the children and keeping her stance- ready to strike at any moment.

BENNOSUKE: "Gramps…"

BLACKSMITH: "They wanna 'talk'. I ain't plannin' on makin' a habit of stuff like this, but I figured a chance would be fine. Still, I told 'em any funny business and I was cuttin' them down. I guess you could too. Whichever sword gets there first."

BENNOSUKE: "…That so? Alright, fine."

[blvdymary]

One Day

pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader (teen&adult)

Summary: "Don't make promises you can't keep" you trusted him not to but it seems like he was like the others.

Genre: angst, friends to strangers, fluff

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Word count: 700

Note: Y'all I just watched "A Quiet Place 2" and UGH I might write something with Emmett next.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

You threw a rock into the lake, watching it skip with ease while your eyes fell onto Jonathan’s failed attempt at throwing a rock. His little huff of frustration made you giggle as he looked over at you, he’d always have cuts and bruises over his body from his parents, you told him to call the cops but he would never listen to you.

“how do you even skip a rock???” he put his hands in the water, feeling the coldness of it throughout his body.

“Well first you have to grab a flat-ish round rock, then you hold it between your fingers and throw at an angle!” you described at him while grabbing another rock and throwing it in the lake and watching it skip 3 times before it fell deep in.

“you know, one day I will leave this shithole of a town and become a great man.” he ran his wet hand through his hair, slicking it back and smiling dumbfoundedly.

“I hope you do Jon, hope you do.”

“Don’t forget about me okay?”

He suddenly turned his head at you, his eyes betraying his real intentions. “I would never!!” he said, you smiled adoringly with a mixture of sadness in you, you knew he would.

And he did.

It has been years since you saw his face, 20 actually, he gazed in your direction like he used to do before turning away. Leaving you in the past even though you were the only reason he was able to leave that place.

“You’ve changed,” you murmured behind him, catching his attention right away as he slowly walked towards you, he stood tall, still as skinny as he used to be. He spoke calmly after adjusting his tie and straightening his suit. Still as perfectionist as ever.

“That I did, sweetheart. I changed, and I don’t regret it at all. I suggest you stay away from me as we are two separate people who have no connection anymore.” He took his leave once again, carrying his suitcase in one hand and checking his watch with the other.

“But you said—“

He didn’t even give you time to speak what was bugging you for an eternity, just kept walking and walking before disappearing into a crowd of people. You were, again, left with the burden of his so-called “love” he said he felt for you in the past.

“One day I will make you my wife so we can live happily ever after!” He swung his wet arm over your shoulder, making you shriek at the coldness and him laughing his heart out.

“That's impossible, Jonny. We’re too young—“ he put his other hand over your mouth, shushing you and slowly turning your head towards his direction, his blue eyes felt heavenly at that exact moment. His soft smile bringing joy to your face, making your heart flutter with adoration and warmth.

“I said one day, not today…although we can start today if you wish to.” That cocky smirk of his forming on his mouth, you quickly pushed his hand away from your mouth and furrowed your brows. Of course, it would be considered as pouting in his eyes —not that you meant it to be seen as rude anyway—.

“JONATHAN!!! That’s inappropriate.” he cackled at your little tantrum, it was quite cute in his eyes.

He abruptly took hold of your chin, carefully observing your face before whispering his feelings out.

“One day, You and I will leave our parents, who did us wrong—“

“Mine are good people unlike yours.”

��… Anyway, like I said, one day we will leave PEOPLE who did us wrong and we will start a family together, happier, better, and kinder.”

He took your hands in his, kissing your forehead.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Then why did you make a promise you can’t keep Jonathan?” You mumbled behind him even though he already left. Oh to face the sorrows of the old times once again.

Maybe one day he would fulfill his promises.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

taglist: @hiraethberry @1-fuzzy-squirrels @justcallme1anangel @tejasvkris @rosierosem @meowsicles39

[i-plague-eater]

It took me long to choose characters but I've ended with Elyon, Orube and Yazoo (from FFVII). First, Elyon.

I like her shaggy hairstyle in cartoon a lot! It is a reason for Kane/Phobos to has his hair so wild! But in a comic book her silhouette is much closer to Weira and they're said to be very look alike, so I've came with a compromise between comic and cartoon versions. Her iconic sweater is a noticeable detail too, plus it's purple and purple always gives a magical and mystique vibe.

I'm not gonna lie: as a kid, I've never been fond of her. As far as I know, most fans say the same as I do: she's too sugary sweet, naive, gullible and never had a chance to kick Phobos's ass. But as she's one of the characters in my fancomic In Breach, I followed my commom approach "You can't have a character in your script and feel a subjective grudge towards them". So I started asking myself why Elyon is acting the way she does. And I've discovered а very interesting fact.

Why she WOULDN'T act the way she does?

She is an ordinary teen girl, not the smartest, not the brightest (when it's not about amazing drawing skills that she share with Hay Lin. I mean, come on!). She isn't the most socially successful, as she mentioned in a cartoon "I'm a teenager without friends" (in rus dub). The ordinary "normal" type. Her only stable relationship is with Cornelia and Alchemy. She's so unnoticed that only Alchemy notified the police that Elyon is missing. And Alchemy is not a teacher, just a classmate. A family has disappeared and literally no one (including neighbors) told to police that lights were off for a long time.

Yes, we see Elyon in a background from time to time and she even says a phrase or two. She's not an outcast type, she hangs with the others BUT every time we see her involved it also involves Cornelia who was most likely the one who invited her. And she's always slightly away from the rest making me think she only does this to mix with her surroundings. We never see her hanging with her own company or even a single friend instead of the main heroes or Alchemy (who's also a Cornelia friend). Or Bryan... but it was a sad and short story. We never see her having a long dialogue unless we know who she really is. It's an arguable point tho as the story is about W.I.T.C.H girls and script writers probably were trying to keep a secret of her true nature.

But when Cedric appears! Unlike her furtive parents that always withhold something and Cornelia who's all about herself (with all the respect to Cornelia), Cedric just... listens to her. He shows compassion, non-judgmental approach and sound sincere. With him Elyon feel being special. Not to mention that Cornelia has betrayed her for Will (we know the reason behind it but Ely doesn't).

And then! Bang! Suddenly Elyon becomes THE special. The only one! She's like Harry Potter who got a letter from Hogwarts, like issekai character, the fucking King Arthur, THE CHOSEN ONE! Common people of Meridian are praying on her, servants are ready to perform any caprice, Miranda is being nice and ready to play with her, her older brother is such a sweet and cheerful person who would do just anything for her. She's like Coraline who found the other mother. And this case is actually so good that it should be in a video "How and why people fall for abusive relationship or being lured into a sect".

The only thing she can be accused is being too gullible but she acts as a person who grasps any straw. Who would you choose? Parents who lied to you for your whole life? Fake friends who replaced you with a new girl.

We can go deeper here. Remember the first scene with Elyon in a comic book? She got a low grade and instead of supporting her, her "friends" invent a humiliating punishment to hit on a stranger. Although they know she's quite shy! What a nice company we have here, don't we?

Don't get me wrong, teenagers may show low empathy due to their age. Cornelia isn't a bad person too. She's the most loyal friend one might only dream of! Both in a comic book and cartoon she stays at Elyon's side and refuse the idea of her friend being evil. Although Elyon did a lot in a comic book to be judged. Cornelia risks her own life to get to her. BUT she's still quite an narcissist type. Such people attract very specific friends: those who always stay in their shadow, never a threat or a competitor. You can see others confronting her in either passive-aggressive form or trying to show her a place like Irma does. But Elyon was with Cornelia since they were small kids. I have a theory that Elyon actually wins from it too: she seem very "normal" by hanging with a popular friend who would invite her to every party. And literally no one can say no to Cornelia, right? And Elyon seem present in the society. And at the same time she actually isn't.

So here's the whole picture: Elyon isn't a scapegoat outcast like Martin, she isn't labeled as "odd" like Hay Lin. BUT she's not a successful either. She's a blank one, that average conformal person that does their best to suit "normal" standarts. She's short on social contacts, she's breadcrumbed by Cornelia and has no friends outside her pack. As we remember, Alchemy is also Cornelia's friend. Both Browns are hideous, insanely quiet people who made a very, very isolated, incapsulated family to the point that no one even notices their absence. They do their best to lay low and they teach Elyon to act the same way (we know why, but it's quite unhealthy thing you know). I bet Eleanor is quite unhappy with Ely's marks, but I'm not sure if she's strict about it. She's been shown as a good parent in both comic and cartoon. Although the way Elyon agreed to throw them in prison in a comic so easily is something that keep my brain buzzing.

Sooo my idea is that her reliance problems has started long before the cartoon events. Her social contacts never worked properly to begin with and that's why Cedric got her so easily. Not to mention his speech skills. Elyon was a quiet, shady kid with a certain tendency for escapism. Drawing on her level is quite a specific trait that requires a lot of time spend alone and some wild imagination. I think while she never shows this in a cartoon and probably suppressed it, she was really envy of Cornelia, Irma, Hay Lin and even Taranee having huge and nice families, lots of friends and being very bright people. While she's... on the sidelines. There's a thick wall of white lies between her and her parents. She's... no one. Only Cedric shown her what being heard and important is.

Although all the above is cool, it makes her a bit bland to my personal taste. So in my AU called In Breach I given her a bit salt and spice by returning her some of her comic characteristics. I see her as a stalker type, very jealous and vengeful, but too afraid of showing aggression and staring a feud. She would write some really nasty fanfiction about her foes and spread rumors, make ugly caricature on Grumper sisters. Might even play a nasty prank on someone if she can get away unnoticed. But nothing violent, just humiliating.

So, imagine this lost envious girl stumbling across another narcissist. Different from Cornelia, quite a violent type. The one who seem to be afraid of no one. Like, literally not a single person can tell him what to do - even the police (on a first glance. In reality, he's afraid of jail as fuck). The one who questions the moral, the normality, the good and evil. AND telling her this is what she can and should be. WELL WELL WELL WHO COULD THAT BE)

Also, a song that must be a soundtrack for her kicking Phobos's butt in a cartoon.