#Everyone like to be heard and express themselves but there is a time and place

[noonecaresaboutyourwhining]

Welcome to my own extremely controversial opinions!

This is the kind of shit that would get me lynched irl. "You coward, you're hiding behind a screen!" Damn right, I am! People are killed all the time for simply having opinions the masses don't agree with. I am not suicidal, which is why I run this blog and not my mouth irl :D

Here we go.

Black people who think white people owe them "reparations" are dumb af. Not only are you suggesting people be held accountable for things that people's ancestors did hundreds of years ago that at the time was fully legal and generally socially acceptable, but you are also showing your true self-righteous ignorance by assuming black people were the only race to be enslaved.

If gender exists on a spectrum, then one end of the spectrum is male and the other is female, and all these other "genders" people are claiming are bullshit. You can't have it both ways. Even if you exist perfectly in the middle, then it shouldn't matter that much so just pick one. Making it other people's responsibility to adjust to whatever you've decided in your head is unreasonable. It's like a kid who gets mad at people for not knowing they're being a unicorn that day.

There are four sexualities. Technically three, but I'm including asexuality even though that's often a disorder that can be corrected. You can be heterosexual, homosexual, or bisexual. Anything else is something you've made up in an attempt to define yourself within parameters that make sense to you. Being attracted to someone for their personality instead of gender does not make you "pansexual," it makes you bisexual. Getting to know someone before attraction forms is not unusual and you are not special enough for that alone to require your own unique sublabel.

All deviations in gender and sexuality are firmly encapsulated within the "Q" of "queer," as in that which is not the norm. For this reason, you don't even need the "LGBT-+" part of the acronym; it could just be "Q", meaning those who are not cisgendered heterosexuals, i.e. the norm. (Notably, just because you are offended by it being the norm, doesn't make it untrue.)

Hold on to your hats, folks; this is gonna be the longest and by far most controversial point. Building off of point 4, whether you approve or not, pedophilia falls under the queer label. If it were destigmatized it would allow for those afflicted to seek help and lessen the numbers of child molestation cases (though it's worth noting that many such cases are less about sexual attraction and more to do with psychological factors such as control). The torches and pitchforks approach is not helping anyone. No one chooses a sexuality that is not only publicly condemned but also may harm vulnerable individuals. In fact, if you believe it is not a choice to be gay, you also have to concede that it is not a choice to be a pedophile. It is a choice to be a child molester. The issue is that often these terms are used interchangeably. Many pedophiles live out their lives never laying a finger on a child or indulging in illicit materials. The inherent sexual deviation is a miswiring in the brain. Now, don't get me wrong - people often jump to conclusions and put words in my mouth - I am of the firm belief that if you harm so much as a hair on the head of a single child, you should be castrated, maimed, and dragged through the streets before being thrown to an angry mob. I am simply suggesting that the possibility to intervene exists before it comes to that, and perhaps then we would not need to condemn neither innocent children nor those afflicted with this specific neurological defect to a life of misery. Just maybe.

There's more, but these are the main ones. Have at it in the comments!

[msfcatlover]

Thinking back to that one post about how every batkid needs to pick a persona they get to swear in. I would like to expand it.

Dick swears all the time, but he does it in other languages. He picks a language for each persona to swear in and sticks to it. He did still do his whole “Aw, fiddlesticks!” routine as Robin, mainly just to watch everyone’s faces when he did it. (But everyone remembers the time Robin’s leg was broken and he just screamed “FUCK!” so loud that the entire battlefield turned around in shock.)

Jason knew that thanks to classism, people would assume he swore even if he didn’t. So like, why bother restraining it any more than he absolutely had to? As Robin, he didn’t swear even when he really wanted to, though sometimes he slipped up when caught off-guard or when chatting with someone who knows him in both identities. (On one very memorable occasion, Robin got so mad he actually shoved his fist into his own mouth to muffle the screaming rant of obscenity he needed to express.)

(As the Red Hood, Jason doesn’t really give a fuck, but he still falls back into his old habit of cleaning up his language when in costume. It’s very funny to hear him say something like, “Well, golly! You’ve gotta be shitting me.”)

Tim Drake is a proper young man who doesn’t swear, even when he’s hurt (he has totally stolen that biting-my-fist move from Jason.) Robin swears like a fuckin’ sailor all day every day, to the point where not a single goddamn hero in the entire caped community that has ever worked even adjacent to him has not heard, “Ask me if I fucking give a shit,” muttered under Robin’s breath directly into the com line when someone tries to correct him on something. He will switch languages to insult you in the one you best understand, too. His friends have a running bet about how many of those languages Robin actually speaks, versus how many he just learned how to cuss people out in (when asked, Robin just smirks and says, “How fucking many do you [always a swear from a different language, usually one they haven’t heard before] think?”)

Damian mostly sticks with old-timey faux-Shakespearean insults, mainly because it’s very funny when adults can’t figure out what to punish him for when he sasses them. As Robin, Damian likes using animals in place of swears, and just telling people to go fuck themselves—it keeps them on their toes.

Steph does not fuckin’ care.

Duke canonically swears both in & out of costume, and I love that for him.

[beloveds-embrace]

Until the Last Loop: When the Hour Strikes

(Your doom is drawing nearer and nearer, and now you see the signs that will lead to it)

poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader, time loop

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two

Chaos eventually bloomed like rot within the castle walls, just as you’d expected. It began as whispers- always, in every life. Soft, serpentine murmurs slipping through the cracks of stone and shadow- but they spread quickly, clawing their way into the hearts of servants and courtiers alike. The air grew heavy with suspicion, thick as the scent of burning wax and spilled ink.

You felt it before you heard it.

A shift in the way the guards tightened their grips on their spears, in the way your maids avoided your gaze as they fastened your corset too tightly, fingers trembling against your spine. The silence when you entered a room was not the silence of reverence but the hush of fear- of vultures circling, their wings brushing against the walls.

You knew this song. Far too well.

The opening notes were always the same, a familiar melody of betrayal and inevitability, and like every time… the chords struck ominously. Sharp. Harsh. As if the unseen hand twisting the strings were far bolder.

And then the letters came.

Three sealed envelopes left abandoned in the corridors- no names, no crests, just ink blotted into thin, cheap parchment. The first was delivered to the head steward, its contents enough to send the kitchens into disarray as accusations flew. Poisoned wine. A plot to kill the king. Fingers pointed, but no evidence surfaced beyond the words themselves.

The food you were served was always cold and on occasions, spoiled.

The second letter found its way to your father’s study. You hadn’t been there when he read it, but the rage in his voice cracked through the halls like thunder. Words like “treason” and “execution” followed you even after the doors slammed shut.

The third appeared in your chambers. Unmarked. Unsigned.

But unmistakably meant for you.

You turned the paper over in your hands as the candlelight flickered against the script. It bore no threats- only a single sentence, written in a trembling hand:

Trust no one.

You burned it before the wax dripped too far. It didn’t warm the cold ache that burrowed itself in the tendons of your neck.

Of course, your “protectors” had to be aware of everything- maybe they even knew better than you of what rumors were spreading about you, and just as they’d done in most of your latest lives, they try to help:

Soap was the first to storm into yours room, expression thunderous, brows furrowed and his voice tight in his anger.

“Ye need to tell me if ye’ve seen anyone suspicious,” he said, pacing like a caged animal. It was nice to see that you weren’t the only one to feel like that “Anyone lurking where they shouldn’t be. Even if it’s one of the servants.”

You almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Suspicious? In this place, everything was suspicious. Every glance, every word spoken behind closed doors, every breath held too long. No one could be trusted, not really. Everyone and everything was another knot on the noose to go around your neck.

But you bit your tongue, folding your arms against the cold that crept through the stones. “You think it’s one of them?”

He stopped, turning to face you. “I think it’s someone close. Someone who knows enough about ye to make this believable.”

The implication lingered between you, unspoken but heavy.

Soap didn’t say it, but you saw it in the way his eyes flickered to the ashes in the hearth where the letter had burned, in the way his hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger.

“It’s not me.” You sighed.

“I ken, lass.” He said it too quickly, like he was reassuring himself more than you. Then he ran a hand through his shabby hair, exhaling sharply. “But someone wants it to look like it is.”

You scoffed, turning away from him at last. If your hands were shaking, he said nothing of them. “You and I both know someone could come, admit to spreading rumors, and my father would still believe I am to blame. Let it go, Johnny.”

“Lass…”

You had no reply for him. Why would you? You had given up. All you had left was just attempt to ease the fear that constantly plagued you like a swarm of flies.

Ghost was next. He came with shadows clinging to his heels, his presence a weight that settled over the room like the storm clouds of cold winters.

“Who gave you the letter?”

You stared at him, fingers curling into your skirts. They were rumpled, not fully cleaned, but you cared not. Bit by bit, you were nearing the striking hour and everyone around you was a constant reminder of the ticking seconds. “No one. It was already here when I came back.”

Ghost said nothing, the mask leaving him as unreadable as always, but his silence was suffocating.

“Do you think I’m lying?”

“No.” A grunt. A pause. “But I think someone’s lying to you.”

His words burrowed under your skin, sharp and invasive. You didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to acknowledge the seed of doubt taking root in your chest.

But it was there. Growing and spreading its invasive roots.

Ghost lingered even after the questions stopped, his eyes never leaving you, as if he thought you might disappear if he looked away for one second. You should have found it unnerving, but instead, it felt like armor- thin and brittle, but armor nonetheless.

After him, Gaz found you in the gardens, the dying roses from before now nothing more than brittle stems and scattered petals. He didn’t speak at first, didn’t press, just sat beside you.

And for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Your tongue stopped being a weapon several lifetimes ago; you’d rather have it still in your mouth when you were executed, rather than brutally ripped off for “spreading filthy lies” against your beloved father.

It was Gaz who broke it, eventually. “… We’ll figure it out. We are all searching leads, you know.”

You turned to look at him, searching for something- reassurance, perhaps, or conviction- but found only quiet determination. You wished you could bathe in such an emotion, but…

“Even if it’s too late?” you asked softly.

“It won’t be.”

The certainty in his voice twisted something inside you, fragile and aching. You didn’t want to believe him..

Couldn’t allow yourself such a hope, after all the lives you’d been robbed of. You knew they didn’t like this attitude of yours, found it strange; how certain you were of your early demise.

Price, on the other hand, was a pillar- unshakable and steady in a way that felt rare amidst all the chaos unfolding around you. While the others hunted for answers, sharp and swift, Price moved differently. Slower. More deliberate.

Ghost had told you Price had always been like that; a born, patient hunter. He never rushed, never panicked. Instead, he listened. Observed. Held the room together with nothing but the weight of his presence.

“There’s more to this than letters and rumors.” He said one evening, his voice low as he studied the map of the palace spread between you. Distantly, you noted that his writing was not the same as the one on the letter. “Whoever’s behind this knows what they’re doing.”

You swallowed, the words curling tight in your chest. It made it hard to speak, to think, but you didn’t allow yourself to drown just yet. “Do you think it’ll matter?”

His eyes met yours then- calm and steady. Grounding.

“It matters,” he said quietly. “All of it does, princess. Your insistence on dying so soon is almost making me uncomfortable.”

You ignored his second service; no one would truly understand. It wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, but it was one you found yourself holding onto anyway.

Because as the days stretched and the shadows pressed closer, Price didn’t falter. He never looked at you the way others did. Never let the whispers of treason or guilt change the way he stood beside you.

When the tension twisted sharp and the weight of it all threatened to drag you under, he didn’t flinch.

He stayed.

And it wasn’t in words or reassurances- it was in the small, steady things. The way he made sure you ate, quietly setting a plate down beside you when your hands were too unsteady to hold a fork. The way he noticed when the walls felt too close, wordlessly leading you outside to breathe.

He was a tether when everything else threatened to break apart.

You never questioned it- never questioned him. Had no energy to do, so why would you question one of the few who didn’t look at you like you were a speck of sticky dirt under their shoes?

Because Price wasn’t like the others. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He didn’t fill the silence with pretty words.

He simply stayed.

And even when you felt like the world was caving in, that was enough.

By the end of the week, the castle was a hornet’s nest of accusations and fear. The kitchens were searched. The servants were questioned. Even the guards began turning on each other. The hour of the accusations had struck, and now the hour of your execution was nearing.

You were tired- bone-deep, soul-deep. The kind of exhaustion that even sleep couldn’t ease. Not that you slept much these days. The nightmares saw to that, clawing at the edges of your mind until the walls between dream and waking began to blur.

You stared too long into the mirrors, searching for someone you might still recognize and finding only the hollow reflection of a girl who had died too many times to keep pretending she was still whole.

I can’t keep doing this.

I am going to die again. And again. And again.

If anyone- if they- heard you pacing your rooms like a restless animal, no one came in to check you. If they heard your sobs, they knew no comfort offered would soothe you.

One night, after your father visited, after he made you kneel and kiss his feet and swear that you were not attempting to overthrow him, you broke.

Loud, pained, terrified sobs tore through your chest, raw and unrelenting. You pressed your hands to your mouth, desperate to muffle the sounds, but it did little to silence the grief clawing its way out of you.

Your knees buckled beneath the weight of it, and you crumpled to the floor, trembling as the cold seeped into your skin. The walls of your chambers felt smaller, closer, as though they were closing in, suffocating you.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there- folded in on yourself, shivering and broken. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost its meaning, stretching endlessly as your thoughts spiraled.

The door creaked.

You flinched, your breath hitching as shadows shifted across the floor. You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.

Not until a warm, heavy cloak was draped over your shoulders.

Price knelt beside you, silent as he settled onto the floor. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to pull words from you. He only sat, solid and steady, his presence filling the room like the glow of dying embers- quiet, but enduring.

And for the first time that night, the sobs began to slow.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (pt 2)

This one actually is edited thanks to @basementqueercock! Thank you friend!

part 1 | Masterpost

-------

Vlad had been making a stink at the Gala about the Wayne brats taking his godson from him without his permission when the music suddenly cut out. Bruce Wayne himself stalked towards Vlad with an expression that was honestly a little intimidating, even if Vlad obviously wasn’t scared of such an empty headed pretty boy even if he was one of the richest and most influential people on the planet. He was Plasmius! He could take a rich pretty boy is he had to!

“Ah! Mr. Wayne, thank goodness! Your children have taken my Godson off somewhere! I’m sure it’s just a harmless prank but he’s a bit fragile and unpredictable so I really think that it would be best if-“

“Is he fragile and unpredictable because he’s pregnant and you knew?” Bruce asked low and dangerous. Silence spread out around them, even though there’s no way they could have heard they saw the look on Brucie’s face. He rarely got angry but when he did it was serious, when he did it usually meant someone had hurt a kid.

Vlad blanched for a moment, Danny had been so tight lipped about it, so unwilling to tell even those he trusted how did These people know?! “What? What on earth are you talking about? Of course he’s not pregnant, I mean he’s a boy!” Vlad huffed and Bruce’s jaw tightened even more somehow.

“He’s not leaving with you. Get out.” He said low and menacing, then raised his voice. “Sorry to cut the party short everyone but something has come up, a situation that really needs my attention so I’m going to have to put an end to the party early.”

“What do you mean!? He’s MY God son! MY heir! You can’t just keep him from me!” Vlad said, he knew that his eyes were starting to glow a little red but he couldn’t help it. “He’s MINE! Return him to me or you will regret it I swear!”

“See him out.” Bruce said dismissively to a handful of guards who had approached at the start of the commotion A lot of the socialites were already starting to see themselves out, now was not the time to argue, or even stick around when it looked like this might get physical.

“I will be back! I will be back with lawyers and police and the brat’s parents,” Vlad vowed but couldn’t risk fighting the guards any more than a usual old man would on the way out with so many eyes on him. Well he just needed to find a place alone. Then he could transform and come back, possess Bruce Wayne and make him do something heinous in public to ruin him for this.. this- this INDIGNITY!

-------

Bruce was having a hard time keeping his Batman expressions off his face as he saw that everyone was out of his house and he knew his children were having the same trouble. Dick looked like he was ready to bash someone’s head in and Steph wasn’t that much better. Damian was standing by the door, seeing everyone out with frosty politeness that no one would mistake as genuine. Bruce felt just a little bad, it wasn’t anyone’s fault what they had found tonight. No one else knew about the clearly abused teen they were currently harbouring, but none of the family could help it either. Bruce would send all the guests gift baskets once they could announce what was going on.

Alfred was on the phone with Bruce’s lawyers, sending them the mildly distorted audio from Danny’s earlier conversation with Cas and Dick, and the footage from Vlad Master’s outburst. That had the same sort of distortion over it too which was odd, he’d have to look into it. Cas had already informed him she thought Danny was a meta of some sort, maybe it was connected to that? Or maybe they were aliens? Though Danny being trans was currently the most plausible explanation for his pregnancy. They’d find out more later. What mattered was the footage of both of those would be enough for Bruce to get emergency custody while the family was investigated. 

Tim was with Danny in the room Alfred had fixed for him, helping him settle in and lending him some clothes. Tim was the closest to Danny’s age and also one of the calmer ones right now so he was in charge of trying to make Danny feel safe and comfortable while the family took up battle stations to deal with the legal and logistical elements of this.

Bruce made sure everyone was out, the perimeter was secure, and Oracle was at her computer watching the security feed for anything suspicious including the pattern of distortion Vlad and Danny seemed to emit. He wasn’t sure how paranoid he should be about all this, but he’d seen the way Vlad’s eyes sparked red when he was angry and Batman was sure he was a lot more dangerous then he first seemed. And not just in the way that he was apparently willing to impregnate a boy young enough to be his son.

Finally he couldn’t avoid going to check on Danny anymore. Not that he was Really avoiding it, just that he knew this was going to be an exhausting and difficult conversation and he needed to brace himself for it. With every step towards Danny’s new room he felt the weight gather on his shoulders of what this child must have been through.

He knocked, and let himself in. Immediately clocking the way Danny tensed at the sight of him. Of course a rich older man would set off his alarm bells. Bruce gave the softest smile he could and went to pull out the desk chair across from the bed Danny was sitting on, well out of arms reach so he wouldn’t seem like a threat as he sat down. He glanced at Tim who nodded and went and sat on the bed next to Danny. Solidarity, willing to stand up against Bruce if Danny needed it, safety.

“Hello Danny, it’s nice to meet you. My children told me a bit about.. your situation,” Bruce said with a small grimace. “Would you mind if I ask you some questions? I promise I won’t judge you whatever you say, and I promise I am on your side. No matter what I will try to keep you safe okay? Just tell me the truth, it’ll help me do what needs to be done.”

“Alright Mr. Wayne,” Danny said, though he was still wary.

“Thank you, please call me Bruce. So first, what’s your full name?” he asked deciding to start super easy.

“Daniel James Fenton,” Danny replied softly.

“Your parents names?”

“Doctors Madeline and Jack Fenton,” Huh the fact that he called his parents doctor like it was part of their name seemed to be significant though Bruce wasn’t sure exactly what it meant.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 16,” He said. A little older than he looked but still no where near old enough to have the weight of the world on his shoulders like he did.

“And you’re pregnant?” Bruce asked as gently as he could, Danny nodded. “And you’re sure?”

“Yes,” Danny said softly and Bruce nodded, licking his lips a little.

“Did you take a test then?” He asked and Danny grimaced making a so so motion.

“It’s not… that simple,” He said softly.

“Can you explain it to me please?” Bruce asked softly.

Danny took a deep breath and licked his lips, hesitating, opening his mouth to stat, hesitating again and biting his lip. Bruce stayed quiet as he watched the conflict on Danny’s face. “You work with the justice league right?” Danny asked suddenly which seemed like a bit of a non sequitur to Bruce but he needed. “A bunch of the members aren’t human right?” Ah, Bruce nodded again. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Of course I am Danny,” Bruce promised, soft and reassuring. “People don’t have to be human or from earth to be people. Whatever is going on with you you’re still a person, and a kid, and deserve to be protected.”

“Okay,” Danny said as he scrutinized Bruce’s body language for any sign that he was lying. “Okay. I’ve never been able to trust any adults with this shit but I can’t keep doing this on my own so okay. I’m not human, not fully anyway, not anymore. These are..” He touched his stomach. “Like if you did an ultrasound you wouldn’t see embryos more like… Hang on Here.”

Bruce blinked as Danny suddenly, reached Inside himself, and before he could panic Danny had pulled out a perfectly round object that filled his palm. It shimmered with light from within, cold and sparkling with stars. “Our kind is more energy and light then anything else. This is Us, the mind, heart, everything we are is stored in our core the rest is formed around that. I mean for most of my kind, I’m still half human.” Danny said before replacing the orb inside him. “I have two other little cores inside me right now, feeding on my energy to develop properly, you could see them on an Xray. I don’t know how long they’ll take honestly.” He sighed caressing his stomach again.

 “But I can feel them inside me, I can feel their worry when I’m scared, and their joy when I’m happy, and their love. They’re my babies.” He said with the softest most paternal smile on his lips. The bags under his eyes were awful, he was clearly exhausted and stressed, but his expression told Bruce Danny thought it was all going to be worth it for his children. It brought a lump to his throat he had to clear before he could speak again.

“Okay, do you have access to healthcare appropriate for your.. species?” He asked and Danny nodded. Though he was tight lipped still.

“There are protections for non-human species in America you know,” Tim said.

Bruce and Tim exchanged a confused look as Danny barked a laugh. “Not for MY kind, we were specifically excluded,” He said with a wry curl to his lips. “The shadow or echo left behind when a proper human dies, not sentient or sapient they say. Malicious and dangerous they say. To be captured or exterminated on sight. They would take me, experiment on me, probably put my babies in jars or something.”

Oh, oh fuck, he was shaking, eyes blank and glassy like he was heading towards a panic attack. “Danny! Danny look at me,” Bruce said as he leaned forward and Danny’s gaze flicked up to his face. “I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure they don’t get you. You’re clearly not what they say, and anyone who would hurt a child is not the good guy in this story.”

“Who are they?” Tim asked with an expression that promised swift and vicious retribution.

Danny took another deep breath. “The GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward. They’re a government agency, they’ve been hunting in my hometown for a while. Early on we tried to call the Justice Legue, but I think they were jamming the lines or something,” Danny said looking down and biting his lip.

Fuck this poor kid really couldn’t catch a break! Bruce was sure that the ‘ghosts’ these idiots were hunting weren’t really anything of the sort, but he would look into this and see what he could find. Tim was clearly itching to as well bad he wasn’t willing to leave Danny alone with Bruce, good lad.

“And what about your parents? Do you think you could be safely returned to their home?” Bruce asked, as much as he wanted to keep Danny reunification was supposed to be the goal of fostering.

“No!” Danny nearly yelped sitting up straight. “No! They work for the GIW! They design most of their weapons. If they ever found I’d been contaminated- I don’t want to think the worst of them but even if they still recognized me as their son the babies-“ He cut off, wrapping both his arms around his stomach and curling in on himself.

“Okay, we’ll call child protective services, my lawyer, and the Justice League. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Bruce promised Danny. “And you can stay here as long as you need to. Is there any other family you would want to go to?” Bruce asked, just to be sure, but he wasn’t surprised when Danny shook his head and grabbed a pillow to hug.

“And I know Oracle and Red Robin will be itching to find out more about this ‘government agency’,” Tim said. “I want to go tell them Danny, if Bruce and I go will you be okay on your own or do you want me to ask Cas to come stay with you?”

“Cas please? If she’s not busy?” Danny asked uncertainly and Tim nodded. Bruce was getting up before Danny spoke up again. “I have a sister, Jazz. She knows about me not being fully human, but not about the babies. She’s a good person, and she’s almost an adult. I don’t know, I just need you to know she’s good, and I don’t want to mess things up for her,” Danny said worriedly.

“Of course Danny, thanks for letting me know,” Bruce said with a smile already making plans to get her out as well. “We��ll let you know as soon as there are developments.” He promised before both he and Tim ducked out. They split up, Tim going to find Cas and ask her to go back to Danny before they reconvened in the bat cave, they had a lot of research to do.

next>

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Heaven & Earth 🌍 | Gladiator II Imagine

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Emperor Geta x Empress!reader

Content Warnings: fluff, comfort, depictions of mental illness, mentions of pregnancy, soft!Geta, historical refences and mythology (not completely accurate to the timeline) | female!reader (she/her) like three uses of Y/n | wc: 4.6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: In which the mighty Emperor Geta of Rome becomes the beacon of light pulling his Empress back to Earth when the Gods of Mount Olympus visit her mind in an attempt to beckon her to a place where the Heavens and Earth crash alongside each other.

note: yes this based and inspired by Queen Charlotte and basically the reader has the condition George has. I apologize in advance for any potential mistakes and inaccuracies, I am not an expert or professional in regard to mental conditions please be mindful of that and kind when leaving comments or critique. Thank you.

dilectus meus = "my beloved," in Latin

-----------------------------------

“My Emperor!” The shout echoed, bouncing off the palace walls, racing footsteps in its wake as the servant rushed to the man she searched for. Finding him at the end of the corridor with his guards walking as they readied themselves to greet General Acacius upon his return to Rome. “Please, Emperor, a moment of your time!”

Gruffing, irritation painting his visage, Geta pivoted to face the servant, making them come to a freezing stop feet away from where he stood. Out of breath and red in the face from chasing the sovereign. Geta’s gaze turned hard, “What is it? What is so important you have hounded me at a time like this--.”

“Forgive me, your Majesty, it’s the Empress,” the servant was bold to interrupt Geta, but they did so anyway despite the dire consequences. However their intuition was right as they watched the Emperor’s face shift from anger to panic. 

It was then Geta realized the servant as the main attendee to his wife. Alba. Who’d been with her since she was still in the care of her father and step-mother. A constant figure in the Empress’ life who saw first hand the torment that plagued Y/n’s mind. Normally Alba was successful in bringing her back to Earth, but her state of duress told Geta it was out of her hands and Y/n needed him. 

In a hurry, Geta brushes past her, ordering him to follow and his guards trail closely behind. “When did it start?”

“Only minutes ago. We finished her hair and nearly completed her glamour when I noticed she became silent. I tried calling her back but then she started saying the usual things when this happens.”

“The Gods and Olympus?”

“Yes, Emperor,” Alba confirmed, eyes watering as they approached the chambers. Even after so many years, the suffering of the Empress brought anguish to the maiden. And to her fellow servants, who cared deeply for their Queen. “I cannot place what is responsible for this sudden fit,” her voice drops to a whisper, so only Geta heard her. Yes, the guards close to the Imperial couple had knowledge but still they wished to keep matters private from prying ears. 

“Likely the upcoming celebrations of her father’s arrival,” Geta spoke aloud, turning the corner hastily. The doors of his chambers came into view and he heard the gentle voices of his wife’s servants trying to coax her from her state. “Fetch warm milk from the kitchens and honey bread. She’ll need that once I’ve brought her back.”

“Yes, Imperator,” Alba bows her head before turning on her heel to head in the opposite direction toward the kitchens. Geta continues on, passing his wife’s guards who appear in just as distress as the maids as they stand at the doorway. As he enters the chambers, everyone freezes. 

His eyes scan the room, his wife nowhere to be found but the doleful expressions of the servants confirmed she was there. Hiding somewhere. The vanity was in disarray, rings scattered across the surface and on the ground, indicating she likely removed them in her fit of stress. Face paint spilled against the smooth marble. The vase full of lilies shattered, leaving water and petals puddled together. 

“Where is she?”

The servant pointed to the bed, “underneath, my Imperator. She refuses to come out.” 

With a wave of a hand, Geta orders, “Leave us.” And like birds flocking in the sky, the servants and maids ushered out of the chambers. The guards posting themselves outside after closing the door with a loud *click* 

Now standing alone in his chambers, away from the eyes of his staff, Geta relaxes his shoulders with an exhale. Mentally preparing himself as his attention turned toward the grand bed where the sound of heavy panting filled his ears. 

“Darling?” he calls out softly, feet carrying him to his side of the bed. Upon hearing her shaken, “yes,” Geta kneels himself onto the rug, lifting the sham to peek underneath the bed, where he finds his beloved wife laying on the feathered rug covering the wooden floors. 

Geta’s heart tightened at her state. Body stiff as the statues that adorned the palace grounds. Eyes wide and fearful, lips quivering as she attempts to calm her breathing. Chest heaving at a fast pace, thankfully slowing by the second. Beads of sweat on her forehead, glistening against the golden headpiece the servants had managed to place atop when they finished styling her hair. The makeup beneath her eyes smudged from the tears cascading her cheeks. Face flushed with shame and embarrassment. Geta wanted nothing more than to remove the distress from his wife and free her from the storm her mind bestowed on her.

A ball of black fur was nestled against the Empress’ side. Ears peeking up followed by bright green eyes, revealing her beloved cat Nox. The animal was a gift to her on their wedding day to assist her when times like these occurred. A companion for when Geta was occupied. 

“It’s been quite some time since this happened,” he muses, tucking the sham into the mattress so his view is not obscured, never taking his eyes away from her as he removes his flowing cape, discarding it on top of the bed. “The last was before we were gifted the babe growing in your womb.” He peeked down to see the slight swell of her stomach protruding against the fabric of her dress. 

“I--I’m so sorry,” her voice croaks, sniffing as she fights to hold back another wave of tears. “I do not know--know why today this--.”

Geta shushes her, a whimper leaving her mouth, thinking she displeased him. Refusing to look at the man, Y/n hears shuffling and from her peripheral catches her husband lay his back on the rug before scooting beneath the bed. Inch by inch until he finally reached her side. The warmth of his hand radiated against her palm as he took it in his. Softly stroking the bare knuckles lacking rings. The loving gesture a means to bring comfort.

“The Gods visited you, my darling?”

Her breathing finally calms down at the gentleness in his voice, swallowing the saliva that formed in her throat. Still, she stares at the wood above her, unable to meet his gaze. “Mars--Mars and Venus--they watched from the shadows. Juno stood--stood behind me in the mirror. I--I willed them to leave, to not bother me on a day like this--but they refused, saying I was to follow them home.” shuddering, the Empress squeezes her eyes shut, the darkness welcoming with open arms. “I did not wish to make a spectacle, husband. Especially today with all that’s been prepared. Forgive me, please.” 

“There is nothing to forgive, love.” Geta assures her, lifting the hand he clutched to cradle against his chest. Letting her feel the rhythmic beat of his heart. “Just focus on my voice and my heart. Let me guide you as you return from your journey to Olympus. Our little one needs you to be calm, my love.”

And so the rulers of Rome laid beneath their bed for what felt like hours until the Empress fully rejoined her husband back on Earth. All the while Geta stroked the hand perched on his chest, bringing it up periodically to kiss her fingertips and whisper words of love and affirmation into her skin. 

His thoughts drifted to the past when he felt her relax. To when he first met the woman who captured his soul and would become his Empress. Stunning the court as Geta had never planned to marry and simply enjoyed the pleasures being the Emperor afforded. 

It was an accident. The two were never supposed to meet. For she never attended public events at the palace with her father, the esteemed General of Rome, Marcus Acacius and her step-mother, Lucilla, the adored daughter of former Emperor Marcus Aurelius. Their daughter was a mere mystery, hardly anyone besides close members of the Senate had knowledge of the woman. 

The origin of her condition was also a mystery. Marcus' first wife, Y/n’s mother, passed during childbirth leaving the General to raise her on his own. She was mostly in the care of maids and servants when he was off to fight Rome’s wars, therefore Marcus did not know what shadowed his beloved daughter's mind until he witnessed an episode himself shortly after her seventh birthday. That’s when her primary caretaker, an older woman by the name of Daphne, confessed to the General the fits began two years prior. 

Most men would be ashamed. Might go as far as to send their child away. Disowning them to be left to the bloody wolves of the world and to not dare claim their sire’s name furthermore. For a child who lived between the Heavens and the Earth was unheard of. Who’s state of mind would relinquish them from any sustainable future. 

But General Acacius was not that man. His daughter was his life, and the memory of his wife whom he adored. It would be the ultimate sin to discard the child as though she were the dirt beneath his feet. His late wife would drag him to the Underworld herself should he dare. 

No, General Acacius vowed to protect and love his daughter the moment she entered the world. He would uphold it until his last breath. 

He only let the best of the best care for the girl. Paying them an Emperors wager to ensure her needs were met and she felt safe in the walls of her home. To bring her back to Earth when the Gods of Olympus called to her and he was unable to return her himself. By the time she reached the age of ten and Marcus remarried Lucilla, he and the staff realized her fits were brought upon by stress and situations that unnerved the girl. 

Y/n was granted freedoms with few restrictions. She was tutored with the best education provided, allowed to roam the gardens, have animal companions, and interact with the children of Acacius’ colleagues when they visited the home. Daphne close to her, the older woman knowing when to step in and remove the girl as the features on her face would consort and she’d stare off into the distance momentarily before the flood of emotions consumed her.

After Daphne passed, Alba entered the picture. And she, Marcus, and Lucilla were the only three able to pull the young woman from the Heavens. Until she met Geta. 

It was a spur of the moment decision. Marcus and Lucilla were summoned to the palace to attend a feast celebrating the founding of Rome. He himself had dismissed his staff to allow them to enjoy the festivities the night held. And he could not leave his daughter alone, but there was no one to watch her while they were gone. In the end, it was Lucilla who convinced Marcus to allow her to accompany them to the palace. For she had not endured an episode in months since her nineteenth name day and it would do well for her to be exposed to their peers. Not to mention she’d be beside them the entire time, and they’d depart immediately if she became overwhelmed. 

Marcus had no issue until it came time for them to greet the Emperors. Geta and Caracalla seated in their thrones, flanked by their companions who fed them grapes and produced goblets of wine. He witnessed with his own eyes the sudden shift in demeanor from Emperor Geta when his gaze landed on the young woman. His bored expression consorting to one of intrigue and interest. Flooding the general with uncertainty. 

He continued to find Geta seeking his daughter throughout the night. Observing her from afar or purposefully conversing with guests in their proximity. Not hiding the way his brown eyes flickered to her in an attempt to lock their stares. Then Marcus discovered the two talking by the feast table, Lucilla having been pulled into a conversation by a Senator allowing Geta to swoop in and steal the young woman’s attention. 

Marcus did not miss the way his daughter’s face lit up. In awe of the man before her and completely immersed in whatever it was they were talking about. Geta too, possessed an expression no man had ever seen before. As though he was in the presence of a Goddess. 

And when Geta summoned Marcus at the end of the feast with his intentions, the General cursed the Gods for putting him in a position that would threaten his daughters livelihood. The decision determined her fate. 

“You deny me, Acacius,” Geta sneered, anger penetrating his tone and visage. “I have proposed to you the gift of a lifetime. I desire to make your daughter my Empress, and you dare voice opposition!?”

Calm and collected, the General simply bows his head before saying, “Emperor Geta, any man would be thanking the Gods for this generous offer, but it is my daughter’s well being I put above all else in this world.” Of course he was not blind to the gruesome reputation Geta and his brother had developed. Bloodthirsty rulers who enjoyed making spectacles of their enemies. No stranger to the violence they enjoyed from Glatorial battles. He’d be damned to let his precious daughter marry a man who’d expose her to distressing events that’ll trigger her. 

“You’re foolish to even think for a moment this was anything but an order.”

Now that was what Marcus was afraid of. That Geta had already made up his mind and wasn’t asking for permission to marry Y/n…. he was announcing his intent to marry her. 

“My Emperor,” Marcus pleaded, “I cannot let you decide this without informing you of my daughter’s condition. And I ask for you to reconsider to allow her the freedom of scrutiny from the people of Rome.”

Geta’s head tilts, confusion painting his form, “Condition?”

Marcus takes a deep breath, feeling the pounding of his heart against his chest. Praying to the Gods for mercy for his daughter should the emperor deem it necessary to exile her. “From time to time, my daughter experiences these episodes that overtake her state of mind.” Geta’s expression shifts, like he understood what the general implied considering his brother also experienced fits. “It’s happened since she was a child. Often triggered by stress or when overwhelmed and usually lasts minutes,” he explains with a shaky exhale, “It is as though her mind lives between the Heavens and the Earth. Where our Gods visit her, beckoning her to come with them to Olympus. Once she’s pulled away it is difficult to return her back to herself as she’s consumed by the emotional distress. My wife, her caretaker, and myself are the ones able to draw her back when her mind is elsewhere.” Licking his lips, eyes trailing to the floor, Marcus finishes by saying, “it is why I’ve never brought her to these functions till tonight. She needs stability, she needs peace. And forgive me, my Imperator, for speaking freely but marrying her to you frightens me for what she may experience without us there to care for her.”

Any man would be warded off at the revelation, but Geta was not deterred. He maintained his proposal, for he was smitten by the beautiful maiden that waltzed into his palace and tore down the marble walls he built around his soul. She was a breath of life in the otherwise dreadful environment surrounding him. He would prove Acacius wrong, and stand by his beloved during her times of need. 

Returning her to Earth when the Gods come to take her.

In the month leading to the Royal wedding during their courtship, the soon to be Empress moved into her own private chambers in preparation to assimilate to the life ahead of her. Geta showered her with gifts and anything she dreamed of having. Chocolates and wine, jewels and gold. Their love blossomed with each passing day. 

The first time the Emperor witnessed her experience a visit from the Gods, Geta wished nothing more than to switch places. He’d approached her chamber door to wish her goodnight when the commotion raging inside filled his ears. The guards posted in front of the doors stiffening at the sight of him. Hesitating to open the doors when he ordered, but when they did Geta entered to find his beloved pacing hastily. Her hair in wild disarray, indicating they’d just taken out the braids when the episode occurred, and robes untied leaving her sheer nightgown to the naked eye. 

Geta saw her lips moving at a fast pace, spilling out incorrigible words jumbled together. Eyes blinking a mile per minute, and hands trembling as she spoke to a presence they could not see. It broke his heart to see her in such distress. Wishing nothing more than to free her from the torment that plagued her.

Her head-maiden/caretaker Alba pleaded with tears in her eyes for her to return home while the other servants observed with sorrow. “My Lady, focus on my voice. You are safe. You are loved. You are home. Order them away and return to us, sweet lady.”

Eventually, and a shock to those in attendance, Geta was the one to calm his beloved and return her to him. Attending to her with care no one expected the Emperor to possess. Then again, it was rare for onlookers to witness him calm his brother when he had an episode. 

When the woman finally steadied her breathing, she broke down into a heap of sobs into Geta’s chest. The Emperor winding his arms around her figure to shield her from the world, murmuring sweet nothings against the crown of her head. Only lifting his head once to order the servants out to grant them privacy, but not before ordering Alba to retrieve warm milk and honey bread for his beloved. 

That night they had their first argument. Y/n begging Geta to withdraw his proposal and let her return to her parents. So that she would not be a burden to him and an embarrassment to Rome. He deserved a better wife. One that will be an image of Venus as Empress of Rome, who would not curse his line with a condition that pulled them away from Earth. Geta refused, confessing his love for her and that he would never be able to find a woman to capture his mind, body, and soul like she has done. 

“Look at me!” she pushed away from his hold, tear streaks smudging her makeup and hair an untamed mane. “I am unwell! My mind cannot place where I am--it is like the Heavens and the Earth collide--!” She takes her fingertips to her temples, the tears flowing like a waterfall. “The Gods--the Gods pry me from the ground--they take me away! I cannot subject you to a life of worry that I’ll have a fit in the middle of a Senate meeting or in front of the people. They will tell you to rid yourself of me--to take a new wife and return me to my father. Why wait when you can do that now and save yourself the shame--!”

Geta grasped her hands in his, pulling them to his chest so she felt the beat of his heart against her palms. The steady rhythm grounding her as his brown eyes penetrated her own with intensity. “Listen to me,” He demands with firmness, but not the type to frighten her. “I do not care what the Senate--or anyone of Rome thinks, you are what matters to me. No one will ever amount to the light you’ve awakened in me. Gods be damned, I will not let anyone take you away.” He keeps one hand clutching hers, the other moving to cup her cheek. “I will stand with you between the Heavens and the Earth. I will tell you where you are.”

They were married the next morning, neither waiting to swear themselves to the other beneath the Gods and before the people of Rome. General Acacius gave his daughter away, watching with glistening eyes as he witnessed the two souls entwine. Lucilla not shying from her emotion, dabbing the tears that fell with a handkerchief. Emperor Caracalla looked on with a neutral expression, not rejoicing but not averse either. 

The Royal couple trotted the streets of Rome in the carriage, waving to the people who cheered and threw rice and flowers their way. Blessing their new Empress and thanking the Gods for her. Geta held onto her hand the entire journey, pressing soft kisses to the skin to remind her of his presence whenever he caught beginning to dissociate. Pulling her from the Gods before they had the chance to take her. 

Months later, following a delightful honeymoon, the Empress experienced another difficult episode when she was delivered massive news from the Royal physician. Geta was attending a Senate meeting when a guard approached him, immediately departing when told his wife was indisposed. 

“What brought this on,” he commanded the servant walking with him, who’d been the one to pass the message to his guard. 

“She did not digest her morning meal, my Imperator,” they explained with a stutter, “and has been plagued with fatigue the last several days that she ordered the physician to examine her.” Worry etched Geta’s face, picking up the pace that the servant was practically running beside him. “Forgive me for informing you of this--for I know the Empress would rather be the one, but she is with child and we suspect this fit is a result of the news.”

Geta freezes, the air catching in his throat as his brain processes what was just bestowed to him. Warmth fills his chest, and before he knows it a tender smile graces his features. A stunning sight to those around him.

His wife was with child. He was going to be a father. 

Suddenly Geta remembered where he was and who needed him. Shaking his head as he hurriedly walked down the corridors to their shared chambers. He orders the servant to the kitchens for warm milk and honey bread, the guards taking their place outside the room while he enters on his own. There he finds Alba alone by the doors of the balcony, a gentle expression on her face looking at something on the floor. While his wife’s cat, Nox, perches himself on the nightstand. 

“Where is she? They said she was in here.” Geta questioned, panic in his eyes that he could not see his wife. The panic turns into worry when Alba points to the bed.

“She’s laying underneath,” she tells him with a frown. 

Geta rushes over, kneeling down to lift the shame, face dropping when he discovers Y/n shivering on the fur rug laid beneath the bed. Wet cheeks and chest panting up and down as she catches her breath. Glancing up, he waves a hand to Alba as a gesture for her to leave them. The maid bows, closing the chamber doors on her way out.

“My darling, why are you under the bed?”

“The Gods, they--they cannot find me here,” she croaks, staring blankly at the wood as the voices drown out to muffles and the stars leave her vision. “It’s quiet under here.” 

Laying on his back, Geta shuffles onto the rug to the space beside his wife. Reaching for her hand when he gets comfortable. “You are right, my dear. It is rather quiet,” her skin is soft under the thumbs stroking her knuckles. “Very peaceful if I must say.”

“Please accept my apologies, husband,” she sniffs, free hand wiping at her face. “I did not think they’d remove you from your meeting.”

“Forget the meeting. It was tiresome and if I’m honest I was planning to leave anyway right as my guard approached me.” Her light chuckle relieved him, the emperor turning his head to stare at her side profile. Taking in her beautiful face as though she would vanish from thin air and leave him. “What ails you, my love? What did the Gods want today?”

The Empress’ bottom lip quivered, making his heart sting as he felt her pain. “The physician told me something,” another sniff leaves her, followed by a lone tear. “I’m with child, Geta. And I know I should be overjoyed, thanking the Gods for this gift and celebrating with you--.” she tilts her head away from the bed frame, facing him instead and allowing the emotion to release. “But I am afraid. I fear for our child--that they will endure the same as me and I cannot fathom it.”

Geta leans over, cupping her cheek with the hand not holding hers and stares deeply into her eyes. “Look at me. No matter what happens, whether our child is touched by the Gods or not, we will stand and take this passage of the unknown together. They will be safe and loved, with you as their mother protecting them. No God will pull them from Earth, we will tell them where they are. Understand?”

The Empress nods, bottom lip jutted out like a child in need as the tears leaked from her eyes. Geta tilts her jaw up, bringing her mouth to his in a sweet kiss to seal his vow and remind her of his devotion. They remain beneath the bed for a few minutes until she’s calm, Geta pressing loving kisses to her nose, cheeks, forehead, and lips. His hand moved to her stomach, caressing the silk clad skin where their child grew. Conceived of their love. 

The birth of twins Marcus and Marcella brought celebration to Rome. Citizens crowded the gates of the palace with gifts, games in the colosseum held in their honor. Followed by the anniversary of the Royal couple where the golden statue of the Empress was unveiled. Every night Geta held her after tucking in their children, murmuring words of affirmation to lull her to sleep. 

Time went on and her visit from the Gods became distant. Sometimes brought on by the worry of her father at war or the state of the Empire. Then after the twins second name day they were blessed with the news they were with child once more. 

Now here they were beneath the bed of their Royal chamber months later, Emperor Geta of Rome consoling his beloved wife as he guided her back to Earth. The babe nestled in her womb grew while their twins slept soundly in their nursery until it was time to wake them. Her father had likely arrived at the palace by now and Caracalla was waiting for them to appear so they may greet Acacius together. 

But Geta would not leave their bedroom floor until his Empress was ready. Till the Gods left her alone. 

“Thank you,” her voice brought him out of his thoughts, gaze lifting to find the eyes he adored staring back at him with absolute tenderness. Glistening against the speck of light able to reach them. The Empress conveyed all the love in her tone as she spoke, “Thank you for standing with me. For always telling me where I am.” Warmth erupted in his chest, Geta never breaking eye contact as he brought her hand to his mouth, his own eyes glistening.

“I will fight for you until my last breath. I love you, dilectus meus.” 

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[melloollem]

Family nights|| Bruce Wayne x Batmom Reader × Batboys

Summary: Your children keep you company after patrol until your husband arrives.

Warnings: English is not my native language.

(DC masterlist)

You were woken by a movement at the bottom of the bed and your first reaction was to reach out to Bruce's side of the bed. Noticing the lack of your husband's warmth at your side, you reluctantly opened your eyes, a sigh escaped your lips and, as you moved your legs, you heard a complaint: "Mom, I'm here". You readjusted your position, with an expression of confusion on your face.

"Damian, I told you not to wake her." It was Tim's turn to speak, his sudden presence startled you, he'd come out of the bathroom in your room, damn vigilante skills, when had these kids gotten in here? "Tsk, you don't even know what happened, I didn't wake her, Drake" you sighed recognizing the scenario that always ended in a long argument between the boys, before Tim could retort arousing Damian's fury you butted in "Ok, you two have had enough of this, let's not do this now" Your body stretched towards Damian pulling him into your arms, while leaning on the headboard.

"Mummy's boy" Jason's mocking voice was heard as he lay down on the side of the bed that belonged to Bruce, had he been lying on the floor all this time? Confusion returned to her face at the thought. "Shut up, Todd, it's not my fault you're too old to be with your mother" Despite Damian's quick response, you felt him tense in your arms, you wouldn't have hugged him if you'd known it wasn't just him and Tim in the room, everyone knew how shy Damian was with displays of affection. Your embrace loosened, but the boy still didn't get off your lap.

"Get your big ass over there, Jason," said Dick as he got up from the floor too, but unlike Jason, he had a pillow in his hand, you couldn't even be surprised anymore. The eldest of your children settled down on the bed with the space left for him, turning to you and saying "Hi, Mom," a half-childish smile escaped him, and you reciprocated in the same way "Can you tell me what you're doing here?" Your tone was more serious than expected.

"Bruce asked us to stay with you," said Tim as he took Damian's place at the end of the bed. "He had some things to sort out after patrol," added Jason. You turned on the lamp next to the bed, all this time the boys were walking around the room with the help of the light from the hallway.

"Actually, father asked me to stay with you until he got back, the others invited themselves" Damian informed "In fact, Dick invited himself and pulled Tim and me into it" Jason let out in a tired grumble. "It would be like a slumber party, according to him" Tim let out a sigh, their eyes turned to Dick waiting for his side of the story and receiving only a shy smile in response.

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table as you said "It's late, one of you go and get him" Referring to Bruce, all of your children let out a tired sigh and before a general discussion started you said "Ok, text him and tell him to come" Dick was the one who picked up his cell phone and sent Bruce a text message, not quite sure how long it would take for him to see it.

You closed your eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep as kicks to your side tried to hit Tim "Damian, leave your brother so I can sleep" the younger man squeaked "But mom, he's lying on top of me" You didn't even have to open your eyes to know that Damian was exaggerating about his brother's current position. "Damian" his tone foreshadowed a reprimand, the boy shut up and moved further away from his brother.

A comfortable hush settled over the room, you hoped to return to your old state, but Tim was in opposition "I don't want to sleep" You abandoned the idea at this point in the discussion, realizing that it would be impossible. Dick quickly retorted "You're the one of us who needs the most sleep" An annoyed murmur escaped Jason "I'm the one who needs the most sleep" He, like you, really wanted to sleep, but it looked like this family was repulsed by the term.

"We can watch a movie" Tim said, you knew he was electric because of the mission, typical attitude. "Sure, look for something" Jason sighed in response to your declaration, he can't believe you gave in so easily. Tim flipped through the catalog, indecisive about what to watch "We could watch a musical, a comedy, a horror movie..." "Your voice is the most terrifying thing tonight," Jason cut off his brother, who continued to ramble on about the different types of movie you could watch.

At one point Tim opted for a mystery movie, you rolled your eyes at the choice, the kids always figured out the mystery before the middle of the movie, ruining the experience. You watched what was supposed to be a movie session turn into a loose conversation after Tim did exactly what you had predicted. They debated the mission, most of them, Jason just mumbled something at one time or another in agreement.

"Does anyone know how to solve this? What's he talking about?" Now they were talking about one of the Charade's riddles, and it seemed that Tim still had no idea what the villain meant. "It's an allusion to mirrors" Bruce was the one who answered as he entered the room, all eyes turned to him and Jason let out a relieved sigh "Finally, I'm going to sleep" He stood up and stretched his body lazily. "What about the movie?" Damian was the one who asked "The script is weak" Tim said following Jason's example and sliding out of bed, now that he had an idea of where to start solving the puzzle there was no reason to stay there.

You watched each of your children leave the room with a brief "good night", you answered each of them, Dick was the last to leave, closing the door. A sigh of relief left your lips, wishing you could finally go back to sleep, Bruce chuckled at your attitude, before sliding in next to you, your eyes following his every move as he got into bed.

"Everything okay?" Your question was prompted by his delay in returning home "Will be" your brow furrowed hoping for a better answer, that kind of vague assurance never brought good news, but all Bruce did when he noticed your expression was leave a quick kiss on your forehead with the same words "Will be", you decided not to ask any more questions, but that subject still circled your mind.

"Family movie?" he asked, turning to the television, intending to change his focus, you followed his example, the movie was still playing in a scene that wasn't so interesting right now "Tim's choice. You're the only one missing" Even though you smiled, Bruce noticed what you meant in those words, but decided to ignore it "What movie is that?" Now he was looking at you. Taking advantage of the moment, you caught the changes in Bruce's image, he looked more tired than usual "I'm not sure, but it looks like we have two killers and one of them is the victim's brother" Anticipating his next question, you added "Tim spared no details".

A silence consumed the room, the two of you staring at the television, wrapped in each other's embrace. You weren't sure how much of Bruce's thoughts were on the movie, he seemed to be thinking about something else, but he wouldn't share it with you. Bruce had made a vow to himself not to bring the dilemmas of vigilante life into rooms with you, too bad he couldn't stop them from plaguing his own mind.

"You know you can tell me everything, right?" You tried to broach the subject gently, wishing Bruce would share his fears with you "Tim has terrible taste in movies" His response took you by surprise, drawing a laugh from you "Said the man from the musicals" You allowed the light tone to take over the conversation "I thought that was one of the things you loved about me" He couldn't believe it "I think that was one of the things you said on our first date" Another laugh erupted from you at your husband's surprised expression, "I'm sorry about that" An amused smile escaped you and Bruce could only smile back at the sight of it.

Your laughter gradually subsided and now you just looked at each other in love "I'm serious about this, you can tell me anything" You took advantage of the comfort of the situation to clarify your speech. "I know that" He seemed to focus on his own thoughts for a second "I love you" Bruce hoped that declaration would be able to quell all your worries. "I know that" You smiled cheekily, but quickly returned to your passionate expression "And I love you too".

[dindjarindiaries]

Without a Word

character: Hunter (The Bad Batch)

prompts: "Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." / A kiss of gratitude

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

Cid had warned you that this place would be seedy, and she wasn't wrong. It was even worse than Ord Mantell—or maybe that was your own paranoid thinking making it seem even worse.

You looked over at Hunter, who was closer to your side than usual. It was just the two of you on this job, since all you were doing was making a quick delivery, and the squad desperately needed rest. It took some convincing, especially for Omega, but eventually you and Hunter had been able to go off on your own.

It was nice, but as you continued to shoulder your way inside the crowded cantina, the absence of the rest of the squad was becoming more and more apparent.

Hunter returned your gaze through his visor, his helmet tilting before he gave you a reassuring nod. You returned it and faced forward again, painting on an expression of confidence the best you could. It was hard, though, with so many eyes piercing right through you, because you and a clone deserter most definitely didn't belong in a place like this.

"Hey." Hunter's voice was even lower than usual as he kept his words between the two of you. You spared him another glance, and he set his hand over your back to lean in closer. "Are you okay?"

The corners of your lips rose a little too quickly as you nodded. "Yeah! Yeah. It's just..." you looked around and inhaled a breath, trying to fight off your sudden claustrophobia, "crowded."

"I know." Hunter gave your back a few gentle pats. Blood rushed into your ears and made them burn. "But we won't be here long, and I can hear everything." His visor scanned the vicinity. "I've got eyes on everyone."

Your brow wrinkled as you gave him a worried once-over. "Don't give yourself a migraine, H."

Hunter shook his helmet. "I won't. There's no way we'll be here long enough for that to happen."

You narrowed your eyes at him, drawing a chuckle from deep within his chest as he gave your back one last tap. He then drew his hand away and used it as extra protection for the case he was holding in his other hand. You instinctively kept a hand hovered over your blaster as you approached the bartop.

Hunter was able to make room for both of you there, but you were squeezed in tight between him and a burly Zabrak who was at least double your size. He towered over you as he turned slightly to give you a look. When his gaze started to lower, you turned more towards Hunter, tucking your chin towards your chest to make yourself smaller.

You weren't able to pay attention to whatever conversation Hunter was having with the bartender, who was receiving the delivery. You were too attuned to every single sense, remaining on high alert the way you often had to do back before you met the boys. Your gaze watched your fingers as they began to pick at themselves, an anxious habit that helped you to really lock in to your surroundings.

The only thing that broke your focus was Hunter's hand suddenly covering yours. You blinked a few times in shock, raising your head to meet Hunter's visor. His helmet was tilted at you again, and his hand tightened around yours before he spoke.

"Don't worry."

Hunter paused, his visor looking beyond you. He lifted his hand to your back again, urging you even closer to him—but there was nowhere to go. That's when he made a space for you, fitting your left side between himself and the edge of the bartop. Your legs suddenly felt weak, and you pressed both palms upon the bartop to hold your ground.

When Hunter finished his thought, his modulated voice was just beside your ear. "I'll keep you safe."

You finally took your first full, deep breath of relief at that. You could protect yourself, and Hunter knew that too, but he also knew how weary it made you being on guard all the time. He had heard you rant about it enough when talking about your life before you found them.

That made his actions, and his words, all the better.

This time, you paid little attention to Hunter's conversation with the bartender because of how aware you were of his proximity to your body. The heat radiating off of him was like nothing you'd felt before, a physically warming presence that made you feel safe and comfortable, even in a place as unnerving as this.

You hadn't even needed to say anything. He just knew.

Hunter was just accepting the case the bartender had slide across the bartop when you suddenly heard a thud in the wood on your right side. You snapped your head in that direction, your eyes widening when you saw the Zabrak man's hand uncomfortably close to yours—though it was stopped by a knife that had positioned itself perfectly between two of his fingers.

Hunter's knife.

Hunter pressed himself more into you, blocking you off from the Zabrak as he spoke to him. "Don't even think about it."

You were too shocked to process anything, much less say or do anything useful. The Zabrak slowly drew his hand back towards himself, and without another moment's hesitation, Hunter held the case in one hand and used the other on your back to help you turn around. He then guided the two of you out of the cantina with ease.

Of course he had kept his word about keeping you safe. Of course he had been able to tell that you were too overwhelmed to properly protect yourself. Of course he had done just enough to protect you without going over the top.

Of course. And you were going to thank him for it, properly.

As soon as you stepped out into the fresh air, Hunter used the hand not holding the case to remove his helmet and tuck it underneath his arm. He steadied himself with a breath and looked over at you, a breathless amount of genuine concern swirling within his brown gaze.

"Are you okay?" He gave you a careful once-over as you continued to match his stride. When you nodded, he rewarded you with a small yet charming smile. "I told you we wouldn't be there for long." He lifted the hand holding the case to check something on his wrist. "In fact... I think we're making better time than I—."

Hunter cut himself off when you suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. A knit formed in his brow, and he looked ready to question you before you held the sides of his face and pulled him towards you.

You couldn't care less that you were both in the middle of a very public, wide-open, and busy street. This wasn't the kind of place that was going to care about it, anyway. A few passersby hooted and hollered, but those sounds were mostly drowned out by the rapid beating of your heart.

This was the best way you could thank him, to proudly shower him with a display of affection as bold as this. Hunter was clearly eager to receive it, as his arm—the one with the case—wrapped around you to keep you as close to himself as possible. It was difficult to keep things from elevating to a level that simply wasn't appropriate for this setting, even if you did tease the warmth of his mouth with your tongue.

One of your hands was still on his jaw as you pulled away, and the other had drifted into his hair. Hunter looked dazed yet pleased, his gaze searching yours for an explanation. You gestured with your stare to the cantina that still stood a ways behind him before you provided him with what he was looking for.

"Thank you."

Hunter softened, the corners of his mouth rising as he gave his head a gentle shake. "You don't have to thank me for that." He leaned closer again, his nose brushing yours as he lowered his voice. "But I'm glad you did."

You giggled against his mouth, though you regretfully kept this kiss even shorter than the first. Hunter looked ready to protest, so you spoke quickly to relieve him of his worries. "Save the rest for the ship." You reached behind yourself to find his wrist on your waist. You gave it a gentle squeeze. "I heard we have extra time, anyway."

Hunter's smile became more sly as he nodded, his body staying close to yours as you made your way back to the ship—and even as you walked through a place where you should have felt the most on guard, you couldn't have been more relaxed and comfortable right by his side.

[your-nanas-house]

Because you were a good step-daddy

◇ Pairing: Stepdad!Cillian Murphy X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, blowjob (face-fucking), handjob, choking, gagging, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic, fluff, maybe slightly dub-con? Not really, daddy kink (?), age gap (but everyone is off age)

◇ Summary: Cillian had been such a good addiction to the family that Y/n couldn't help but reward him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"I heard what you said to your friend and I know mom doesn't threat you like you deserve.. that's why I wanna do it" Y/n informed Cillian, her soft eyes staring at his face as he sat on the armchair of their living room, her cheek pressed against his thigh.

"Darling... Your love is already the most precious gift I can ask for. There really is no need—" the older man started, speaking with a soft tone at his step daughter while swallowing a lump in his throat, his gaze focused on hers.

Since the first time he met Y/n, after dating her mom for months and finally move in together, he knew how big her heart was and how caring and open to their relationship she would have been. But her good heart was about to cross a boundary... that he deep down wanted to cross.

"I know! But you deserve it, you've been so nice and kind, Cillian" she murmured with a little pout, she really was feeling a bit upset because she truly believed that the Irishman in front of her deserves the world, even if he didn't think the same.

Her eyes softened, trying to make her expression look like if she was pleading him, in an attempt to melt his heart and doubts "Pretty please, you really deserve it... you've been so good" she added the praise while stroking slowly his thigh to reach the laces of his pants.

The young woman could tell that there were still battles in the pretty head of his but she knee that with a gentle push they would have went all away. Just a little tiny push... or stroke, she thought.

And after a deep inhale her face was snuggling against his crotch, catching him off guard

"Fuck! Honey—... t-there really is no need, I-I... Oh god" Cillian's low voice said, his big hand moving automatically on her head to allow his thick fingers to intertwine in her locks. His body unconsciously reacting at the situation, making his hips move forward so that his already half-hard boner could hump her face.

Just a little push, Y/n repeated to herself with a tiny amused smile... her step-dad was still just a man after all.

"Such a good step-daddy, being so nice to everyone, buy things.. doing grocery and being the man of the house" her sweet voice hummed as she lowered his sweatpants and starts to suckle on his clothed lenght

"While also working... cooking, and taking care of us" Y/n kept adding, trailing wet kisses along the form of his boner till arriving to the wet spot his pre-cum left on his boxers "Yes... such a reward worthy daddy" she purred out before sucking on the fabric to taste him, gifting some friction to the probably already angry red tip of his.

His grip on her hair was getting tighter and rougher, his breath was heavy and his self-control was slowly running out... she could tell, mostly by his movements of his hips which made his crotch press against her face even more and his aggressive grip on the armrest... tight enough to make his knuckles become white.

No words where exchanged as soon as her warm lips met the soft skin of his V-line, tracing a trail of wet kisses down to the soft skin of his cock. Her smaller hands wrapped themselves around it to move his foreskin and expose his leaking tip at the fresh air so that her wet tongue could taste him.

The young woman placed some kiss after suckling on his tip, lowering herself down till her mouth met his balls, and her lips could wrap around one to suck while her hand worked on his length. She did the same for his other ball as well before a low whine coming from Cillian interrupted his sweet melody filled with moans, groans, and heavy breathing.

"Stop teasing, love" he ordered breathless, pulling her head away from his cock for a split second so that he could compose himself and not cum so quickly.

It has been a while since someone took care of his needs. He sure was in a relationship with Y/n's mom, but she didn't have any interest in being intimate with him since he moved into their house.

His thick fingers caressed his step-daughter's cheek softly, his thumb slowly smearing her spit on her bottom lip, letting her kitty lick his fingertip before sucking on it.

"Such a good thing, you are" his Irish accent made her smaller body shiver, her right hand started to stroke his cock again, teasing the tip a couple of times to lubrificate her actions before finally getting to the main "gift".

Her lips wrapped around his tip again, her tongue flat against it as she prepared herself... moving down with a sudden motion that allowed her to deep-throat him fully. Her gagging noises nearly swallowed by his low groans.

The older man let her throat adjust at the intrusion, stroking lovingly her soft hair while cooing praises between heavy breaths

"Just like that, that's a good girl... relax your cute throat for me, love"

As soon as she was able to, tears threatening to wet her cheeks, his fingers curled again in her hair in a dominant grip. Tight enough to be able to guide her like he wanted but not as to hurting her.

"Fuck, love!" Cillian cursed, his movements at the beginning slow before carefully increasing them. Now fully fucking her face.

Her gagging noise becoming bit louder as his cock kept thrusting in her mouth, his balls slapping her chin at each eager move. His grunts weren't that low as well, due to the pleasure he was creating by using her face like he wanted.

His grip got tighter, a couple of thrusts after she gagged again around his cock and his whole body tensed as hot ropes of cum were shoot down her throat. Slowly and carefully he let go of Y/n, lowering his hips to free her and allow her to breath properly while she decided what to do with his seed.

Her puffy eyes were red because of the tears and her jaw hurted but she couldn't help but smile as he saw her step-dad slowly relax with a happy grin on his handsome face

"Thank you, darling... I was really craving a good blowjob".

[writersblockedx]

Nothing but his Wife

Pairing - Emily Prentis x Fem!Reader Summary - When Y/n comes face to face with her college best friend, she begins to admit that maybe they weren't just best friends after all. Inspired by 'Good Luck, Babe' by Chappell Roan <3 Warnings - Reader coming out? Words - 1.1K A/n - I can't believe that this is my first time writing for Emily but I thought about this idea and had to write a little oneshot.

masterlist

There had always been something between the two of them. Something which, for years, had been left unsaid. Emily Prentiss had always just been Y/n's best friend...at least that was what she told everyone. The girl chose to keep their midnight kisses and care for one another (that went way past just friends) to herself. The two went separate ways after college, barely speaking a goodbye and they were both under the impression they would take such secrets to their grave.

And then the BAU just so happened to be investigating a case of which Y/n was reporting on.

Y/n had no idea what Emily had done after college, where life had taken her, but she shouldn't have been surprised by her success. Emily had always been focused, driven. She knew what she wanted and she made sure she got it. 

The girl wandered through the police station in need of a statement. And just as she was at the reception, Emily noticed her. "Excuse me," She muttered to her team which were in the middle of discussing victimology.

Y/n hadn't changed all that much. Even after all these years, she still smiled the same way and had that glint in her eye that got her any news scoop she wanted. But even before Emily chose to speak, she took note of the one thing which had changed: her shiny new wedding ring. "Y/n?" She called her name like it wasn't real. "What are you doing here?"

Y/n gazed up, "Emily." She stated, almost like she had become a weight on her shoulders. "I'm working, what are you doing here?"

"Working."

The girl glanced passed her to where the team of FBI agents were seated, "Of course, I heard the BAU were here." She looked back to Emily, and glanced her up and down, "You want to give me a statement?" She pushed.

Emily completely bypassed her request, "I see you and him finally tied the knot." There was a sour look written on her expression - one of which she hadn't bothered to hide. "How long did it take you to say yes? Hm?" Sure, Emily couldn't be so certain, but she had her doubts about Y/n and her college boyfriend. The main one being the fact that Y/n herself had always said she never felt truly in love with him. Yet, somehow, she had married him.

The girl's head tilted in response, "Is that your statement?"

Before Emily could stop herself, she reached a hand out, letting it brush against the soft skin of the girl she was facing, "Y/n, I know you, alright? If he's still saying them things-"

Y/n snatched her hand away, "Don't- Don't profile me, Em." She huffed through a stern glance. "You don't know the last ten years of my life so don't act like you do."

"Then tell me." She urged.

But Y/n had simply rolled her eyes, "You've got work to do, so have I." And with that, she turned her back on Emily.

In the rushed thoughts, the worry that this may be the last time they bumped into one another, Emily's voice spoke out to her, "Don't say I didn't tell you so."

Y/n stopped. She thought about the girl's words. She thought about turning and responding that she didn't know what she was talking about. But, instead, Y/n kept walking until her figure slipped away from view.

A day passed and the BAU were able to close the case and Y/n had her story. Everything should have gone back to normal. Y/n should have returned home to her husband and Emily should have gotten into the car with her co-workers back to the BAU. Instead, the two found themselves in the same city, in the same place, wondering why they had stayed.

Two vodka sodas down and Y/n couldn't help herself. The girl pulled out her phone, scrolling far down in her contacts till she found Emily's name. She sent something as simple as her location. And then she bought herself her third vodka soda and swore to herself, if Emily didn't show before she finished her drink, this would be her last one.

But, of course, 20 minutes later, the door to the bar swung open. Y/n didn't dare look. Not until the bar stool next to her became occupied. "A whisky and coke please, single." Emily ordered before she dared to even glance over at the girl.

"You came," Y/n observed.

Emily shrugged as the bartender returned with her drink, "I assumed you wanted me to." She took a sip of her drink before raising a brow at the girl.

She swallowed the nerves which had been growing in her throat since she laid eyes on the girl the day before, "I keep thinking about what you said, when you asked how long it had taken me to say yes to his proposal." When Y/n's husband got down on one knee, she refused at first. She wasn't certain. She never was with him. But Emily...well it was her very certainty about the girl that scared her. "How did you know?"

"Like I said, I know you." She repeated herself, "When we were in college and when he finally asked you out, you were the same. You were never sure you wanted to be with him. Even when you were in that relationship, you were debating all the time if you wanted to leave him." The girl went on to explain. "I didn't blame you, alright? If I'm being honest, he was dick, you knew that. So why marry him?"

It was the same question she had been asking herself from the very moment he proposed till the morning of her wedding day. "I suppose- It was easier than admitting to myself what I really wanted." Her pupils fluttered up to Emily, a flicker of the person she used to be coming through.

"And do you know what you want now?"

The answer was easy when Emily was right in front of her, "I didn't understand the feelings when we were in college but, I know that with him I- well, I don't feel anything." She confessed. "But seeing you now, seeing you after all these years, I've never felt so certain about someone."

Emily reached her hand out, letting it wrap around hers. "Whenever you decide to leave him, I'll be waiting." She promised. "I've always been waiting."

And in that moment, Y/n knew what she wanted: Emily.

[vultbae]

water and oil ✩

tashi duncan x female reader blurb

↳ summary: the two female college tennis archenemies play against each other.

↳ warnings: angst, being closeted.

↳ notes: english is not my first language pookies! also, I couldn't believe there aren't almost any Tashi fics??? and happy pride! not proof-read btw

word count: 1.1k

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, slicing through the ambient noise of the tennis court like a knife, instantly making your body freeze. Your chest aggressively compresses as you watch your lifetime opponent, Tashi Duncan, fall on her back and crumple to the ground in agony, hands clutching her injured knee as if trying to hold herself together. 

Everything has diverted into penetrating silence, and you feel your racket gradually slipping from your fingers, the once-familiar weight slipping away unnoticed as you stare at Tashi Duncan with shock and a rigid, fast-pounding heart. Her face is a torturous portrayal of suffering, with knitted eyebrows and a constant audible sob escaping her lips.

You can't —or are incapable— of moving a muscle; they have locked themselves with a key you forgot where you placed. Instead, you stare with tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over but held back by sheer will. Suddenly, the sour mutterings from the crowd began to stab the thick fog of your shock. At first, the voices were just a faraway hum, but soon, the words became crystal clear.

"Why isn't she helping her?" 

"Look at her—she doesn't even care. She will win by default."

"They hate each other; she won't help." 

You are aware that the public perception of your rivalry with Tashi is intense, fueled by years of competitive clashes on and off the court. So, technically, they aren't wrong. You kind of hate each other, at least publicly. Even college recruiters had recognized early on that your rivalry was too severe to coexist on the same team—you for UCLA and Tashi for Stanford. You are polar opposites in playing style and temperament, each embodying traits that clash rather than complement. 

While other tennis players in your age group get praised for their ability to work beautifully together, Tashi and you resemble more water and oil.

And water and oil don't mix. 

Your heart sinks further as your gaze shifts from Tashi Duncan to the male figure now hysterically rushing onto the court. He is tall and good-looking, with blonde curls and an exaggerated expression of concern that you find melodramatic and infuriatingly genuine all at once. Recognition dawns upon you like a dark cloud—Art Donaldson, the young tennis promise Tashi had been talking to lately, also from Stanford.

The sight of Donaldson crossing onto the court, jumping over the net without hesitation, and acting like a wannabe hero stirs a mixture of sour emotions within your core—jealousy, resentment, and a deep sense of helplessness. Of course, it makes absolute sense Tashi Duncan is dating a handsome, talented tennis player from her same school... and guess what? He came to the rescue! You internally cringe at the horrid thought of everyone applauding him for caring for your girlfriend.

The crowd's accusatory murmurs continue behind your back. Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you follow Art Donaldson's silhouette kneeling beside Tashi's body with eyes filled with hostility and envy. You watch as he gently takes Tashi's hand in his, his facial expression softening as he murmurs charming words of reassurance to the girl deliriously in pain. You can't tolerate it. You stay there, still torn and immobilized, with your mind racing and endeavoring to decide what to do. 

"Sometimes I wish I was a dude," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Tashi's dimly lit college dorm. Tashi's fingers lightly brushed through your hair but abruptly stopped. "If I was that Patrick dude or the other blonde guy, my life would be ten times easier."  

You heard her sigh. 

"But you wouldn't be as good at tennis," Tashi softly replied, and you could tell she was avoiding conflict at all costs. 

A beat.

"But I would have you," you said, turning your head to face Tashi, whose expression remained reflective and contradictory as she stared into the soft glow of the lamp lying on her night table. "I promise that's all that matters to me, Tash," you reassured.

Your eyes met, each with equal sorrow and frustration. Tashi broke eye contact first.

Tashi knew that picking arguments with Patrick was very easy, and she didn't have the urge to speak of anything else annexed from tennis and sex with him. You somehow managed to actively amuse her with conversations regarding your crusty dog back home, the food you have tried when you travel abroad, and everlasting anecdotes that provoke you to giggle and steal a genuine smile from Tashi's lips every single time. 

And it wasn't too long after you exchanged your first words in private for her to realize she loved you. But not in a chummy way. Tashi romantically loved you.

But she never said it. Tashi just guessed you would assume she maniacally loved you, and you would satisfy yourself with that.

But the belief of Tashi loving you felt unimaginable in situations like this.

And now, the panorama of them together reflecting a couple straight out of a film—Art's concern etched on his face, Tashi's distress requiring attention—served as a stark, fucking bitter reminder of the captivating image they could market for years. They look perfect, they look—right.

So, why bother ruining Tashi's career? If her key to branding conquest is right there, kneeling next to her aching body in the form of a six-foot gorgeous tennis player.

In that rare moment of clarity, you make a sore, silent vow to honor your secret, to continue navigating the labyrinth of hidden tenderness and affection if Tashi doesn't decide to drop you after this.

But, as you are one intrusive thought away from stepping out of the court —or, better said, escape— Tashi's hazel orbs, flickering with anxiety and in between dried and brand-new tears, disembark on your outline. Internally, she wonders why you cry —at least as much as her, and you wish you could clarify is because you feel powerless. You are powerless. 

Tashi stares one, five, fifteen, thirty seconds. She doesn't quit. You stare back. Encircling her, the Stanford medical team consoles her and provides instructions to which she doesn't pay attention. To her right side, and almost covering the view of her, the blonde guy starts to question what —or who— she is looking at.

You mouth, "I love you."

Tashi's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can see that little pout of hers appearing over her lips.

Art turns to track Tashi's gaze, falling over you.

And when he's not looking, Tashi mouths back.

"I love you too."

And that's what matters because no one else needs to know that water and oil can mix.

[lady-ashfade]

A Sign

Yan!Rhaenrya Targaryen x WhiteHind!Child!Reader. (Hinted Yan!Criston Cole)

The reader has antlers in this! Idk if females don’t have them, they do in this.

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, possession, obsession, over protective.

Her chest fell as she glanced over the woods from above, the camp ground filled with her people had put a weight on her chest. This time she was far away and no one could tell her she wasn’t worthy of the throne with just a look. Everyone looked at her now just as someone to be thrown aside for her new male brother, Aegon. Rhaenrya could leave without another word and maybe things could be better.

Cristin stood at her side with admiration in his eyes at her beauty even with blood coving her skin and clothes. She was perfect, she was smart and caring but ruthlessly and strong willed. She had raised him from the bottom and gave him a title and somewhere he could belong, he was grateful to no ends.

Sounds of soft footsteps and branches breaking broke the silence and caught the attention of the princess and the knight. Heads turning quickly a around to face what they had heard, criston ready to draw his sword to protect. But their eyes saw no threat at the sight in front of them but a wonder to see. Maybe they both had gone mad to cause them seeing what the did.

A small girl with long hair dropping off her shoulders and down to her back, a dirty dress that was once white turned brown with spots. The sun behind her made it clear as day to see the antlers on her head, beautiful patterns with waves and twisted. Her doe eyes that looked soft and curious as she stared at the pair, they had the same expression filled with wonder and confusion.

Rhaenrya new this was a sign. She could recall the men saying there was a stag in the woods and they called it a blessing from the gods. Slowly the princess hopped off her horse to walked towards the girl she had seen, criston waiting so someone could keep a eye on her. Inching closer it surprises them that she had not run away but slowly walked closer. “Can you speak?” The princess asked in a soft voice.

The small eyes blinked and her head nodded to the question. The princess stopped a few inches away and waited for the girl’s permission to come closer. Bending down she looked at the child and smiled sweetly, slowly extended her hand out and reached for the girl. “My name is Rhaenrya, what’s yours little one?”

The girl was you, a girl only knowing the woods and nature as your home. You never seen a human up close before, the animals had always welcomed you. The harmful creatures thought of you as a friend. “Y/n.” Your small voice answered her and stepped closer. Rhaenrya felt herself fall in a deep hole of love and obsession, the urge to protect you and place you above everything.

“Would you like to come with me, y/n? My kingdom does need something like you.” You blinked up at her and felt the wind blow and the ringing in your ears stop. Just this morning you had been miles away but something was calling you. She was must be your purpose in this life.

Eyes wondered and watched as Rhaenrya walked through the camp drenched in blood and covered in dirt. The cold expression on her face sent shivers down the spines of everyone who looked. Her father, the king, had stoped what he was doing as well as the queen. The princess only looked at them and then stopped herself and looked back at the horse of her protector. Her gaze made everyone follow and the people gasped in shocked.

You stepping down from the horse with the help of Cristin and looking like a blessing from the gods themselves. Everyone stood up and watched you walked through them. You felt nervous at all the eyes on you and whispering, but Rhaenryas eyes were reassuring and calling you to her which kept you grounded as you walked. Taking her hand in yours she walked into the tent to get cleaned up and to spend time with you.

The first thing she did was get you food and clean you up first, she would be so gentle with you. “Do you know how special you are little one?” She asked as the rage whipped the dirt off your cheek. You only shook your head. “I will show you in time, you are mine by the gods laws. They sent you to me in the darkest hour.” She leaned down to kiss your head and then continued to wash you up.

“No one will ever keep us apart”

[anjee0]

My brother's best friend

Chapter 3 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

B Rabbit x Female!reader. (Feel free to put an oc insert if you wish as well)

Description - In which Y/n starts to become friends and possibly more with her brother's best friend, BRabbit.

Warnings - Throughout the series there will be: Mild swearing, Smut, Mentions of drugs and alcohol. (More warning to come throughout the series)

@tiny-gay-satan tagging u cos u love this series xx

Y/n wiped down the counters at the diner as she sighed heavily. She was still mad at Jordan the other night. The memories of last night quickly flashed by in her brain, occupying it as she tried to focus. All she could think about was Rabbit and how she had a great time with him last night. She'd never had anything like that before with any other guy.

Suddenly, the bell above the door chimed as it opened. Y/n looked up to see Carly entering the diner with a warm smile on her face. She sat down at the barstool and looked at Y/n sympathetically.

“Hey girl. I heard about what happened last night.” Carly said.

“You did?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, everyone knows about the little feud Jordan and your little lover boy got in.”

“Wait? Everyone knows about that?” 

“Yup. I'm pretty sure Papa Doc's gang were talking about it too.”

“Tha Free World? I hate those guys…”

“I know right, they're all so arrogant and full of themselves.” Carly scrunched up her face in disgust.

“Also, Rabbit is not my ‘lover boy’.” Y/n started putting air quotes around the words ‘lover boy’. “We're just friends.”

“I know, I'm just teasing. Do you think Jordan and Rabbit will apologise?”

“I hope. I don't want them fighting over something stupid. I feel guilty.” Y/n frowned as she looked away from Carly.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Their boys, they’re gonna be immature.” Carly reassured her.

Y/n chuckled softly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just, they’re best friends. They’ve known each other since high school, I don’t wanna ruin anything between them.”

“Well, if it’s really bothering you, then why don’t you try helping them apologise?”

“How would I do that? I’d just make things worse.”

As Carly tried to think of something, the bell above the door chimed again as it opened. Y/n and Carly look to see Rabbit entering the diner. He immediately laid his eyes on Y/n and gave her a soft smile before approaching her. Carly quickly smirked at her friend before getting up to move elsewhere.

“I’ll give you and lover boy some time.” She teased with a playful wink before sitting down at a booth.

Before Y/n could say anything, Rabbit was already sitting at the bar stool. The first few seconds were just silence as they looked at each other with softened expressions.

“Hey.” Rabbit said, softly.

“Hey.”

“I think we should talk about last night.”

“Yeah…”

“Listen, I wanna apologise to your brother but he definitely doesn’t wanna talk to me right now.”

“I can help.”

“You can?”

“Yeah but before that, I just wanna say sorry-”

“Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault.”

“I know but-”

Rabbit placed his hand on top of Y/n’s as his gaze lessened. She could see a spark in his eyes as he gently smiled at her and moved his thumb against her hand gently and slowly. His hand felt baby-soft, completely in contrast to his rough exterior.

“It’s not your fault. Stop apologising.” He whispered.

“Okay,” Y/n whispered back softly. “I’ll stop.”

“Now, tell me. Do you have any ideas?”

The following 2 hours consisted of them talking out ideas to try and sneakily get Jordan and Rabbit to meet up without getting anything to go wrong. It was difficult when Y/n was constantly switching between cleaning tables, taking orders, serving food and then talking to Rabbit again. Carly would glance at them every moment or so with a knowing smirk as she sipped on her chocolate milkshake or took a bite from her burger or chips.

“Okay, well that works for me.” Rabbit said, concluding the conversation.

“Right then. I’ll see you later.” Y/n replied.

‘Yeah. See you.” With those final words, Rabbit left the diner.

Immediately, Carly got up from her booth and approached Y/n and smiled at her. “You two going on another date?” She teased.

“No. We have a plan on getting Jordan and Rabbit to apologise to each other.” Y/n replied with a stern look on her face that matched her tone perfectly.

“Okay, but are you gonna act like him reaching for your hand never happened?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about!” Carly exclaimed. “You’re saying you completely missed out the part when he put his hand on yours?!”

“Oh, that. Well-”

“Oh, it’s okay Y/n. It's not your fault. How about we go on another date and make out with each other?” Carly said in a high pitched voice, clearly mocking Rabbit.

“Lower your voice.” Y/n replied. “You’re acting like a child. He didn’t say any of that.”

“Then what did he say?”

“He just told me to stop apologising and that it wasn't my fault.” 

“Yeah, same thing. Y/n, he's into you and so are you. Shoot your shot.”

“We're just friends Carly. And even if I did like him, I'd probably focus on getting him and Jordan to apologise before trying anything.”

Y/n got home after her exhausting shift and immediately threw herself onto the couch. Her back ached and her muscles felt utterly sore. Her ears were ringing and she had a killer headache too, not the best combination.

“You alright?” Jordan asked as he entered the room.

“No, not really. I'm so tired from work.” Y/n replied. “Shit, I left my purse at the diner.” She groaned in realisation. “Can we go get it?”

“You want me to drive you to the diner?” Jordan asked.

“Well it's bad enough you didn't want pick me up from my shift!” Y/n exclaimed. “Had to walk with aching legs back home now I can't even get a ride.” Y/n complained as she shuffled to get up.

“Okay, okay. I'll drop you off there.” Jordan insisted.

Y/n smirked to herself at how gullible Jordan was as she got in his car. She hadn't actually forgotten her purse. She was only lying to get Jordan to drive to the diner where Rabbit was waiting. 

Jordan parked his car in front the diner and looked over at his sister. “Go in and get it.”

“Actually…” Y/n began.

“Jeez, what did you do now?”

“Nothing! You just need to get out of the car.”

Jordan groaned I'm frustration as he unbcukled his seatbelt and got out of the car aggressively. Y/n couldn't help but chuckle at her brother's antics as she got out of the car.

Instead of her gong inside to the diner, she went around the back to a dark alleyway. Jordan scrunched up his face in confusion as he watched his sister going completely off task.

“Hey! Where the hell are you going?” Jordan asked.

Y/n didn't respond as she simply just continued to walk down the alleyway. Jordan quickly ran after her in a panic. 

“Y/n Y/l/n! Stop walking away from me!” He shouted after her, sounding just like a concerned mother.

When he entered the alleyway, all he could see was a dead end that chips of brick falling off and muddy graffiti. He soon became panicked when he realised his sister wasn't there.

“Y/n?” He called out.

“Jordan.” A voice said. 

He turned around to see Y/n and Rabbit standing behind him. His sister had a stern expression and Rabbit looked nervous buy tried to cover it with a neutral expression.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Jordan asked, feeling a spike of anger.

“Jordan, calm down.” Y/n said.

“Don't tell me to calm down! You bought me out here for nothing?”

“Not for nothing.” Rabbit interrupted. “Listen, man. I'm sorry, okay? I know asking your sister to hang out with me before asking you was wrong. And I know I should've told you before hand. I just don't want this ruin our friendship, man.”

The air was thick with tension as Jordan only stared at Rabbit with an unreadable expression. “Man, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten mad.”

Rabbit smiled Jordan, feeling relieved at his response. “So we're good?” 

“We're good.”

Jordan and Rabbit dapped each other up with their signature handshake before pulling each other into a hug. Y/n exhaled a sigh of relief she didn't realise she was holding. She was genuinely happy to see that her brother's friendship was mended.

“Hey, did you walk here? I didn't see your car at the car park.” Jordan asked.

“Nah man, I walked here.” Rabbit replied.

“Hey, I'll give you a ride home.” 

“Nah man, it's fine.”

“Rabbit, no way you're walking home in this cold ass weather.”

“Alright, I'll come. Thanks man.”

During the car ride, Jordan and Rabbit were discussing the rap battle taking place next week on Friday. Y/n simply instead listened whilst looking out the window, watching as the houses and rundown buildings passed her eyes.

“You can drop me off here.” Rabbit said.

“Man, don't be stupid. I can drop you off at your home.” Jordan insisted.

“I know but-”

“Rabbit. I don't care about where you live. Y/n won't either. Don't be embarrassed.” He said as he continued driving.

Y/n looked over at Rabbit and gave him a soft smile, letting him know that what Jordan said was true and that he didn't have to worry. Rabbit smiled back, feeling reassured.

Jordan stopped in front of Rabbit's trailer and dapped him up before Rabbit got out of the car.

“Alright, I'll see you around man.” Jordan said as he rolled the window down.

“Yeah man, see you too.” Rabbit replied. “Oh, and Y/n. Lily asked if you could come over some time. She likes your company.”

Jordan turned to his sister and gave her a nod, letting her know she could go. Y/n smiled at her brother before looking back at Rabbit.

“Yeah, I can do that. How's tomorrow?” She asked.

“Tomorrow's good. 10 am?” 

“Works for me.”

“Alright. I'll see you then. Goodnight you two.” 

Jordan and Y/n bid Rabbit goodnight before they drove back home.

Y/n knocked on Rabbit's door and waited in anticipation. For some reason, she could feel a buzz of nervousness in her stomach making it's way around to the rest of her body. She didn't understand why she felt this way, she wasn't scared for all she knew.

The door opened to reveal Lily looking up at Y/n with glee through her adorable blonde bangs.

“Y/n!” She exclaimed before hugging her.

“Hey Lily.” Y/n replied with a wide smile on her face.

“Come in!”

Lily stepped aside for Y/n to enter. The place was pretty cramped but it had a cosy feel to it. Y/n spotted Rabbit making pancakes in the kitchen and she was a bit surprised to say the least.

He wasn't wearing one of those baggy hoodies she had only ever seen him in. Instead, he was wearing a white tank top that suited him perfectly. His arms were toned with muscles that looked incredibly hot. He wasn't wearing his beanie either, revealing his brown buzz cut. Rabbit put the last pancake on the plate then turned to smile at Y/n.

“Hey.” He said.

“Hey.” Y/n replied 

“Did you have breakfast? I'm making pancakes.”

“I already ate at home.”

Rabbit nodded and kissed his teeth. “Uh, I should probably change this.” He said, looking down at his tank.

“Is it not hot?” Y/n blurted out. She could feel her cheeks burning up as the words left her mouth.

“It's November, Y/n.” Rabbit chuckled. “And of course you find it hot. You're wearing layers.” And by layers, he was referencing the shirt and baggy cardigan she was wearing.

Lily dragged Y/n over to the sofa and made her sit down. Lily took her little legs to the kitchen and took her plate of pancakes. She retreated to the sofa and placed the pancakes on her lap.

“When mum's not home, Jimmy let's me eat on the sofa and watch TV.” Lily giggled.

“He's a fun brother, huh?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, I would've watched TV but I wanna talk to you.”

Y/n felt a cocoon of butterflies erupting in her heart as Lily said that. She smiled softly at her nodded. “I would love that.”

“Yay!” Lily cheered with a mouthful of pancakes. “So can we be friends?”

“Yeah, we can be friends.”

Lily giggled and continued talking to Y/n gleefully. Her brown eyes lighted up with excitement every time Y/n would answer some of her questions. She would continue to eat her pancakes as she listened carefully.

Rabbit came out of his room and leaned against the doorpost as he watched Y/n and Lily talking. Something about the way Y/n was soft and gentle with her tone when it came to talking to his sister made him feel something that he couldn't quite explain. He took his pancakes and sat with the girls on the couch. 

“Jimmy's working on a new track and I think it's dope!” Lily said.

Rabbit chuckled and Lily's interesting word choice and ruffled her hair. “Thanks baby.”

“You should listen to it after we finish breakfast.” Lily said to Y/n.

“If it's okay with your brother.” Y/n said as she looked over at him with gentle smile.

“Yeah, why not?” He replied.

After breakfast, Rabbit bought Y/n into his and Lily's shared room. The girls sat on the bed whilst Rabbit sat on his chair and played the track. 

If first started off with a few notes of the piano before it quickly changed to another beat, followed by Rabbit's voiced.

Yo, his palms are sweaty,

Knees weak,

Arms are heavy.

The lyrics played. Some parts of the song were left blank with no lyrics with only the beat playing.

“I left the parts I don't have lyrics for blank for now.” Rabbit explained.

“What do you think?” Lily asked.

“I like it. The beat’s nice. And your voice goes perfectly with it.” Y/n replied.

Rabbit smiled as he felt the tips of his ears heating up as they went pink. “Yeah, thanks.”

Time passed quickly as seconds struck like swift bolts of lightning. Rain pattered against the windows, making a calming rhythm of nature. The three of them were sitting around the table eating food Rabbit had prepared.

The warm food felt perfect against Y/n's tongue as her taste buds took in all the flavour, making a satisfying sensation for her. The scent of the food meandered through her nostrils, making her want to take more.

“You're a great cook, Rabbit.” Y/n complimented him.

“Thanks. But pancakes and lasagna are the only things I can make.” Rabbit replied.

“You can make sandwiches too!” Lily said, with little bits of sauce and cheese on the corners of the mouth.

“Anyone can make sandwiches.” Rabbit said as he took a napkin and cleaned the remnants of food off Lily's face.

“Can I?” Lily asked, her voice piqued with curiosity.

“Yeah, it's easy. 2 pieces of bread with some type of filling.”

The rest of the dinner was carried out by a comfortable silence and the sounds of cutlery clinking as they hit the plate. The silence was quickly disrupted when Rabbit's mum arrived home.

“Hey sweeties.” Stephanie said, greeting her children. She then saw Y/n sitting at the table, with a smile on her face. “Oh, Rabbit, you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend.” 

Embarrassment radiated off Y/n's face as her heat rose to her cheeks and to her ears, making her flustered.

“Ma, she's not my girlfriend. She's just a friend.” Rabbit groaned.

“Oh, sorry.” She apologised. “I'm Stephanie by the way.” 

“I'm Y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Say, you look quite familiar…” 

“She's Jordan's sister.” Rabbit said.

“Oh, no wonder! You two look so alike!”

The four of them chatted with each other, catching up on highlights for the day before Stephanie decided to retreat to her room. They also eventually finished their dinner and Y/n insisted she could help with the washing up.

Rabbit helped tuck Lily into bed whilst Y/n watched from the doorstop, a soft look in her eyes. He sang a quiet and gentle song to his sister to help her sleep. His voice sounded like an angel, beautiful and pure. When Lily eventually drifted to sleep, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead before turning the lights off and leaving the room.

“You're a good brother, you know.” Y/n said as they both sat on the couch.

“Thanks. But sometimes it just feels like I'm not.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“I just have this voice in my head that's telling me that she's growing up in a shitty trailer park because of me. That we're broke because of me. And I know it's my deadbeat dad to blame for, but I can't help that it's my fault. I want to give her the best. I can't do that.”

Y/n held Rabbit's hand, her fingertips grazing his silken hand as she traced every detail on it. She could feel her stomach twisting in nervousness as she did.

“Rabbit, you're a great brother. Lily looks so happy. Everytime I looked at her, she would always be smiling at you. She loves you Rabbit and she would definitely say that you're a great brother. And nothing is your fault, okay?”

Rabbit smiled softly as his grip on Y/n's hand tightened slightly. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Y/n looked at the clock on the wall. She read as she realised that it was getting late. She immediately got up and dusted herself off. Some parts of her wanted to keep holding his hand.

“I need to go. It's getting late.” She said.

“I'll drop you off.” Rabbit offered.

“No, it's fine. I can walk.”

“No way. It's not safe for girls to walk here during this time of night.”

Y/n sighed “Fine.”

He grabbed his beanie and put it over his, then adjusted it slightly. He got his car keys as Y/n followed him out. They got in the car, feeling a wave or warmth hit their face, a complete contrast to the icy air outside.

The car ride had no exchange of words as quiet jazz music played from the radio. When they reached Y/n's house she took one last look at Rabbit and smiled. 

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun.” She said, softly.

“Me too.”

Without any warning, she reached in for an embracing hug. A caring warmth radiated their bodies and they put their arms around each other.

“I'll see you.” Y/n said after she pulled away.

“Yeah, see you.”

She got out of the car and went inside as she heard Rabbit's car driving away. Jordan was still at work. After getting into bed, she softly smiled to herself as she rewound the core memories of today. She felt a bud of happiness blooming in her heart.

A/N: thinking about making this a mini series with 6-7 chapters. Chapters may be a little longer though.

[leupagus]

On Taash

I think one reason people keep pretending that Taash's character is badly-written is because they remind them of what they were like as a young adult: blunt, convinced that they were always right (and everyone else was stupid), and flailing around for an identity that didn't hurt. That often makes for an unpleasant person to be around, and someone who at times is even unlikable. But we never see the beam in our own eye while discussing the splinter in someone else's, so I think there's a certain degree of "well I certainly wouldn't yell at my mom like that!" (You would, honey. You would.)

IMO, Taash is one of the best-written companions in Veilguard precisely because they are thoughtless and callous and blow up at people for no reason at times. They're trying to figure their shit out! They got voluntold to work with the Veilguard without any warning, under a leader who's a complete stranger and alongside people she's never met and often has fundamental conflicts with. They've got an extraordinarily complicated relationship with their mom, who gave up her entire life and culture and place in the world out of love for them, but who withholds approval in a way that so many of us can relate to. They're confronting the wrongness of their old gender expression (woman), then embracing a new one (nonbinary) almost as soon as they learn about it—which is how a LOT of identity works, remember? Remember learning the term "trans" or "bisexual" or "genderfluid" and thinking oh shit that's me? It's relatable, but it's still uncomfortable as hell. Considering all that Taash has on their plate, including hiding a fundamental aspect of who they are (their dragonbreath), it's a wonder they're as stable as they are.

As for the conversations about their identity that people are claiming are "cringe" or "unrealistic"—my babies, I have listened to more people talk through their gender and sexuality journeys than you've had hot dinners, and let me tell you they often sound a LOT like Taash. That's not a bad thing! But it's like learning a new language—or heck, joining a new fandom—where you use the unfamiliar terms in clumsy ways and want to talk about it all the time, even to people who aren't fluent. (Taash talks about other shit too; yes, a lot of their quests touch on their gender, but a lot of them don't and frankly expecting someone who's only just figured themselves out to not talk about it is...kind of cruel. Of course Taash isn't a real person, but man I hope you people complaining about how often you have to "deal with" Taash's gender conversations don't have any friends who have trusted you with those conversations.)

Taash is extraordinary in so many ways—the way they talk to Spite directly like a kid who needs firm boundaries; the possible romance they have with [spoiler]; the nuanced and emotional way they talk about dragons; the way they care for birds and refugees and anyone else in their orbit, if they're allowed to. They are one of my favorite companions (although right now it's kind of a seven-way race between all of them), and I have snort-laughed at more of their lines than any other companion by a country mile.

It's just a shame that so many people saw a reflection of the more grating parts of their own personality and so decided that Taash is badly-written, instead of considering the possibility that they are simply badly-heard.

[venny-the-chubbyblack-writer]

Title: The Smile Worth Waiting For

Summery: your sanemi’s gf who’s emotionless and he’s trying to get you to smile.

Tw: none

---

Sanemi Shinazugawa had always been known for his rough demeanor, sharp tongue, and fierce dedication to his duties as a Hashira. But lately, his fellow Hashira had noticed a change in him. He had been skipping out on training sessions, and his absences had become more frequent. Curious and concerned, they decided to investigate.

One day, when Sanemi once again missed a group training session, the Hashira secretly followed him. They trailed him through the streets, keeping a safe distance, until they found themselves outside a small hospital. Their eyes widened as they watched Sanemi enter, carrying a bouquet of flowers—your favorite flowers.

Inside the hospital, you sat by the window, your expression as blank as always. No matter what Sanemi did, your face remained emotionless, your eyes dull and distant. You had been like this for as long as he had known you, and though he loved you deeply, it pained him that he could never make you smile.

Sanemi approached you with a gentle smile of his own, the flowers extended toward you. "I brought you your favorites," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically tender.

You took the flowers, staring at them for a moment before placing them on the table beside you. "Thank you," you murmured, but your voice lacked any emotion.

Sanemi's smile faltered, and the Hashira watching from the doorway felt their hearts ache for him. He had tried everything—your favorite flowers, your favorite foods, even recounting funny stories from his missions—yet nothing seemed to break through the wall of emotionlessness you had built around yourself.

Later that evening, after Sanemi had left the hospital, the Hashira gathered in secret.

"We have to do something," Mitsuri Kanroji said, her voice filled with determination. "Sanemi cares about her so much, and it’s heartbreaking to see him like this."

"Agreed," Tengen Uzui added. "We can’t just stand by and watch him suffer."

The group devised a plan to help you smile, believing that perhaps Sanemi just needed a little push. Over the next few days, they subtly worked their magic. They arranged for small things they knew you liked—notes of encouragement, a visit from a gentle stray cat, or even little surprises hidden in your room.

The next day, Sanemi arrived at the hospital as usual, carrying a box of your favorite pastries. "I thought you might like these," he said, setting them on the table in front of you.

You looked at the pastries, then up at him. For a moment, something flickered in your eyes—something Sanemi hadn’t seen before. Slowly, your lips curled into the faintest of smiles.

Sanemi's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat. "You’re smiling," he whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. He reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "You’re really smiling…"

Without thinking, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a soft, tender kiss that conveyed all the love and longing he had kept inside. When he pulled back, he saw that your smile had grown, just a little, but enough to make his heart soar.

From behind the door, the Hashira couldn’t contain their joy. They cheered softly, Mitsuri clasping her hands together in delight, while Tengen gave a thumbs-up to the others.

Sanemi turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he realized they had been there the whole time. "Oi! What the hell are you all doing here?!" he shouted, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation.

But instead of reacting angrily, you chuckled—a sound so soft and unexpected that it made everyone freeze. It was the first time they had heard you laugh, and the sound was like music to Sanemi’s ears.

He turned back to you, his expression softening instantly. "I guess I have them to thank for this, huh?" he muttered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You nodded, still smiling, and reached out to take his hand. "Thank you," you said quietly, your voice warmer than it had ever been before.

Sanemi squeezed your hand gently, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and happiness. He turned back to the doorway, where the Hashira were still gathered, and despite his earlier outburst, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at them. "Fine," he sighed, "but next time, stay out of my business."

The Hashira grinned, their plan a success, and left the two of you alone. As they walked away, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment—they had helped one of their own, and in doing so, had witnessed a rare and precious moment of happiness.

And as for Sanemi, he had finally found the smile he had been waiting for, the smile that made every effort, every moment of worry, worth it.

———

I love thisss😍😍

[mysticheathenn]

What's You're Soul Contract?

Hi, Hexlings!

This pick-a-card reading is about what your soul agreed upon coming to earth. Did you come here to be successful? Break Generational Trauma? Did you come here just for the fun of it? This pick-a-card may help give you more clarity and guidance on why you are here on Earth.

This is a general reading, remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to seek professional help. Tarot should be used as entertainment and not a for sure answer to your problems but as a guide, a sense of hope, and amusement.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition.

MasterList

Patreon Link

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NEXT PAC: Patreon Related (I just don't know what as of yet) If you have any suggestions feel free to send them.

Sorry, I have been M.I.A. Depression really is a bitch, but I'm doing better still under the weather but better. I hope everyone is doing well. I missed and love you guys.

Pile l:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: 6 of Cups, Ace of Swords, 3 of Wands, 10 of Cups, 10 of Wands, Page of Cups.

Breaking Generational Trauma/Curses. You have a lot of cups and wand energy pile l. This means your pile is all about pent-up fiery emotions that have been denied an avenue to being expressed whether in your lifetime or over the many generations before you. You probably grew up in a household where you are supposed to "stay in a child's place" or "you should be seen not heard." Some of you have to deal with constantly seeing your parents, grandparents, or family in general struggling with money or hating what they do for work but it puts food on the table and clothes on your back but at the end of the day they took out their frustrations on you. I'm hearing "Money is burning a hole in my pocket." Maybe you have one of those parents where you went to your room as soon as they came home because they were always in a bad mood because of how stressed they were or they are penny pinchers like Julius from "Everybody Hates Chris" I heard "That's .49 cents of spilled milk dripping on my table. Somebody is going to drink this milk. Clip Link." They may even hit you for spilling juice even if it were an accident. Either way, you vowed long ago that you were going to break the chains of what your ancestors have passed down. You want to live a life where you can come home to and feel at peace and happy. You want to be that parent that lets your kids feel like they can express themselves while establishing healthy boundaries. Some of you I am even hearing will never stay with someone for the sake of the kids like some of your parents have done. You overall want to live a life where you don't have to apologize, walk on eggshells, or be miserable. Your soul contract is basically to live your life outside the boundaries of what your ancestors have placed on each generation and to pass that same freedom on to those around you or your kids. You are meant to live out loud and maybe even cut off family members if you feel called to do that. I am even hearing that some of you are in the process of re-parenting your parents. Helping or teaching them that the ways of what they knew are wrong and that if they want to remain in your life they need to make changes.

Pile ll:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: Page of Pentacles, The World, The Sun, 8 of Pentacles, Queen of Swords

Independence/Financial Abundance. Your soul contract reminds me a bit of pile l but only 1% of it when it deals with breaking trauma/curses surrounding money. You probably grew up if not poor you grew up okay. While you weren't poor your family wasn't rich or even middle class, they were a little above working paycheck to paycheck. For some of you, this has nothing to do with growing up poor but more so with wanting a better life for yourself so you can provide for those around you especially if you are close to family. If not family you may just want Fuck you money to lavishly spend. Some of you want to pay off your parent's mortgage or buy them their dream car. Whatever it is as everyone has their personal reasoning for why they want financial abundance or independence, you are placed here to experience riches and create abundance. I am hearing that some of you want to make a change within the world. You want to grow a business where employees are treated fairly and paid a living wage. This reminds me of the CEO who took a pay cut so he could give all his employees including himself a starting salary of 70k. You want to help out the needy and give back to whatever you can, I'm hearing about finding new solutions to food waste for very few of you. Either way, you are meant to be your own boss. You were never meant to work underneath someone and I feel quite a few of you have been feeling that feeling for quite a while now but don't know how to break the chains, don't have a business idea/where to start, or don't know how to get the funding to start your business idea. Just remember to ask and you shall receive speak to your guides and ask them for help, a sign, or to put someone in your path who can help you out. In the meantime, please be careful with who you share your ideas with. Some of you are too trusting with your friends and family group not knowing they are waiting to see you fail or talk you out of the idea because they want you to remain in the same position as them knowing they could never amount to half your potential. Some of them remind me of the popular TikTok trend from Snowfall "Me. I built this shit. Brick by Brick and I'll be dam if you tear it down because you don't like the way another n*gga talk." Some also just want to latch onto you, remember not everyone is meant to walk the same path. Some people are meant to be left behind or they will keep you in the same place as you are now with wanting handouts, filling you with limiting beliefs, etc.

Pile lll:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot:10 of Cups/10 of Pentacles, The Wheel, 4 of Cups, The Tower (clarified by the Chariot), The Hermit

Divinity / Spiritual Growth/ Light & Love. You may be seeing the number 1010 everywhere pile lll. You have the 10 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, and The Wheel is the 10th card in my "The Muse Tarot Deck." The 1010 angel number serves as a guiding light, illuminating your journey in love, money, and spiritual growth. You were placed on this earth to spread light and love, becoming the embodiment of it, and to walk a spiritual path. For some of you this spiritual path may be a religious path, take what resonates and leave what does not. I mostly feel this is a spiritual group because of the symbolism on each card that came out for you. Some of you are leaving your religious background for spirituality because you saw how religion has turned the people around you into the complete opposite of what they teach during Sunday service, some of you are leaving because you felt that the religion doesn't align with you anymore and you feel lost but somehow spirituality has been calling your name and has done some things for you but you feel some type of guilt surrounding it because of your upbringing. For others of you, this may be vice versa where you decide to go back to church, etc. Again take what resonates and leave what does not, either way, you are finding your way back to god (Universe, Allah, Source, etc) and wanting to bring more harmony, love, and community into your life. You probably have been going through some changes recently and for some of you who are atheist or agnostic and experiencing the feeling of being lost, like the way you are living can't just be this, or feeling that there is no way that you are here to just take up space and struggle. You are trying to find more meaning in life because you are on the verge of a mental breakdown or may even have thoughts of suicide because of how alone you have been feeling. Overall you were meant to find yourself. You are meant to come back to yourself through spiritual or religious means. Finding a community that shows you that there is light and love in this world and you aren't alone nor placed here as a waste of space or to struggle. I heard God loves the little children bible school song and this little light of mine. I feel those two songs are to let you know that within the darkness there is always a bit of light at the end of the tunnel you just can't see it because you're honed into the darkness not looking for the light. Also that you are loved whether you feel that way or not. Your community is out there, don't give up.

Pile lV:

What is your Soul Contract? Tarot: Queen of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, 4 of Swords, 4 of Cups, 10 of Wands (reversed)

Love/Beauty/Life. You may be seeing 44 or 444 everywhere pile lV. That is for just a few of you not everyone but pile lV your soul contract, the reason you are here is to experience all of life's beauty, glory, and love. Your pile somewhat reminds me of pile lll but only 1% of it is about finding yourself, but for a few of you the whole reading might resonate also. Anyway, you are here to experience being human. I mean after all, you are a spiritual being having a human experience. Some of you probably wonder why you go through tough times or maybe get pissed off at even small inconveniences and I'm here to let you know it's all a part of your process, mission, and experience. You are meant to see life's beauty, travel, fall in love, get your heart broken, make life-long friends, have your first fight, lose all of your money, win the lottery.... all of it...do you hear me? You are meant to experience the good with the bad. The small details of life like Starbucks's pumpkin spice lattes to the smell of books in the library or book store. You signed up to also find yourself amongst experiencing all the large and small things in life. To live your life unapologetically and to be free from what society has placed on what it is to being a human, an adult, etc. If you haven't seen the movie Soul by Pixar/Disney I highly recommend it as this is literally your pile. You were meant to say what goes for your life and what does not because everything is temporary. You know the question "If you were on your deathbed what would your regrets be? What would you have wished you would have done more of? What would you have done less of? Those questions that people love to ask old people.....that is your soul contract. To be asked on your death bed some of those questions and being able to say you lived life exactly how you wanted to live it: Beautifully, authentically, boldly, and filled with love and freedom surrounded by those you love and who deeply love and express their love for you. While you are meant to experience some struggle as it is a part of the human experience you are not meant to live one that is traditional, rigid, or stale. Go bungee jumping, get a tattoo sleeve (or fake one), take risks and ask out the guy first, and write that book that has been on your mind even if you don't plan on sharing it. Overall, do you boo, do you. Live life with no regrets. Live life as if Wes Anderson was the director. If you were a book genre it would be coming of age.

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Stay safe and be blessed