#I'm not saying that to appease you or like spare your feelings

[deathinfeathers]

.

[yanderes-galore]

yandere lamb with a bishop darling?

I can try my hand at this, sure! I really want to write more for this game but no one requests it :')

Yandere! The Lamb with Bishop! Darling

(FT. Yandere! Platonic! Narinder/TOWW)

Pairing: Romantic (The Lamb)/Platonic (Narinder/TOWW)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Worship yandere, Cults, Violence/Murder, Dubious relationship.

The Bishops are deities worshipped in the Old Faith.

The religion itself is cruel and inhumane, often requiring sacrifices of unwilling subjects.

The Bishops themselves, your siblings, could be considered cruel themselves.

Narinder, Bishop of Death, was sealed away after harming his siblings, you yourself may even have an injury from him too.

Leshy, the Bishop of Chaos, has always been too arrogant of his power.

Heket, the Bishop of Famine, is often aggressive and brings hunger to her followers.

Kallamar, Bishop of Pestilence, is a coward who brings sickness to his followers and fails to lead them.

Shamura, Bishop of War, often forced obedience through mind control.

Compared to your siblings and this religion, you could be a Bishop in two ways.

Perhaps you're better than them, the hope the followers need to continue suffering under the others.

Or maybe you're just as bad as your siblings?

(I'm biased to you being some sort of Bishop of Hope and Radiance yet you can be anything you want)

The point is, The Lamb may want to worship a Bishop! Darling.

Sure, they are meant to worship Narinder to free him... meaning they may have to slay you.

But The Lamb can't bring themselves to!

Even more so if you genuinely care for your followers.

I feel what would make this story even more intense is if Narinder was attached to you as his sibling.

That way he'd probably ask The Lamb to spare you, to force you into a messenger of the new cult.

After all, the other four betrayed him...

Not you.

Honestly just the thought of The Lamb trying to appease you is adorable.

Narinder prefers sacrifices, so The Lamb tries to pick followers they think you'll like.

You're given gold as wealth and often given gifts.

Even if The Lamb had to slay you, they'd probably bring you back to make you a follower.

The Lamb's obsession is only encouraged if Narinder likes you.

Narinder trusts The Lamb to convert you and your followers... along with treating you well.

To you, you may even find The Lamb's attempts at worship and maybe even courtship cute.

They bleat towards you before offering you gifts.

They conduct sermons about you and Narinder.

You're often depicted as the sibling of TOWW and are worshipped as such.

Anything romantic would be sort of strange unless you were made a follower.

The Lamb's romantic attractions towards you while you're still a deity may be more akin to someone saying they "love God" or something similar.

They love you and devote themselves to you.

Narinder, your brother, may even see The Lamb as a connection you two share.

A temporary connection... as TOWW has plans to ditch The Lamb once he is free.

You may see The Lamb as a follower of your own... or maybe even a pet.

You often speak to The Lamb, asking how their conquest is going.

You are aware of what they must do... it's bittersweet.

On one hand, your siblings (and maybe you) had it coming.

On the other hand... you wish none of this has to happen.

The Lamb tries to distract you from your mourning.

As Leshy, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura fall... The Lamb tries to comfort you.

You try not to blame the pawn too much....

They are Narinder's form of punishment.

Lambs should never have been targeted in the first place after all.

It was foolish to think Narinder would never return.

As a result, you are in acceptance of your fate.

You accept The Lamb's offerings and bless them on their journeys.

You aren't sure how things will go when Narinder returns.

From what you hear, the Bishop of Death seems eager to see you again.

Part of you fears what's to come, but the others tried to fight it and perished...

So why should you?

The Lamb is often the one to pull you from your thoughts.

They come back from their crusades all proud and happy.

They always come to see you at your land and at the cult.

Knowing you can't fight the return of your brother, you aid his pawn.

His pawn, The Lamb, appears to adore you just as much.

The Lamb isn't entirely an intense yandere when you're a Bishop.

They come to see you often and try to follow where you go.

They only wish to worship you alongside your remaining brother!

You are wise enough to know you can't fight fate compared to your siblings...

So you accept The Lamb's offerings and adoration... which includes all of their love.

You wonder if Narinder will spare The Lamb once he comes back to rule yet again.

[nouearth]

london fog.

pairing ; clark kent x m!reader. fandom: ; dc, superman. word count ; 1094. genre; fluff. rating ; pg. warnings ; awkward interactions incoming, male reader is embarrassing, clark is nervous and likes hot drinks on a hot summer day, didn't proof-read, sorry! my toes actually curled at how cringy reader was being, i'm so sorry.

“london fog for clark?” your voice is at ease and your motions even more so as you topped the hot latte with milk foam, capping the drink with a lid after. a smile that rivaled the sunny day has been brewing on your face since you took the familiar customer’s order and thankfully, things moved at a leisurely pace today, meaning you had a few more seconds than usual to spare with him.

“how come you still called my name even though there’s no one here?” his name is clark, often comes in before work or during lunch. but these days, he’s been doing both, which you couldn’t complain about. the man’s presence makes the opening shift worth it, even if you could only speak to him for a few seconds. 

as usual, he’s in his work attire, sans the blazer that you often see him wearing in the morning, and he still looks at you with that friendly smile of his, black hair whipped back with tiny strands falling downwards as his hair wax has obviously loosened over the day. clark’s presence never failed to prepare you for the long day ahead or comfort you after an intense hour of appeasing patronizing customers. adding in his ability to look effortlessly handsome every day, his generosity in tipping, and his amiable personality, it didn’t take too long for clark to become your favorite customer.

“i just like saying your name! clark! i’ve never met anyone named clark before.” you pass the cup to him as you maintained eye contact. a gentle brush of his fingertips almost breaks your gaze, but you catch yourself, only breaking to fetch and occupy his hand with a bagged sandwich. “on the house.”

“oh- hey, i can’t! let me pay for this.” you confirm to yourself that pretty privilege was indeed real and you can’t believe you fell victim to it, but… it isn’t so bad when the culprit is a genuinely kind person. 

after taking a sip, clark clumsily sets everything down on the counter to fumble for his wallet. the sound of pennies and quarters falling onto the marbled floor echoes and you could evidently see clark’s cheeks grow redder the more coins fall, but you stop him before he could empty his wallet out even further. he stares back at you wide-eyed and you couldn’t help but laugh at how cute he looks when he’s embarrassed, especially since he’s bigger and taller, a physique that you often associated with a bodyguard or some sort of superhero, and you don’t think those types of people tend to be flustered much… do they?

“it’s fine. we’re working on a new recipe, so consider yourself… a test rat!” you gather the fallen coins that managed to land on the counter into your palm before handing it back to him. a slight waste of time, only because clark slots them, along with a couple dollar bills, into the tip jar immediately after.

“well… uh… i’m happy to test anything if it means seeing more of you.” was he flirting? or was that a joke? maybe it was nothing?! your inexperience condemns you to overanalyzing his words, his tone, his body language, everything, and you’d figure you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight with these questions running rampant.

“oh- definitely! you won’t be disappointed, clark.” you’re flustered and that reflects in your voice. a voice that was once at ease not even a minute ago quickly becomes staggered. you stammer like a school boy confessing to his crush, and you could feel your eyes shutting for a moment in embarrassment when you realize how nervous you sound. “they work me like a dog so- i’m always here, hah!” 

you snort in midst of the awkward laugh that you and clark both share and you want to hide in a hole somewhere. maybe not too deep since you still want to be alive and breathing to see clark again, but somewhere far, far, far away from this painful interaction. 

a painful interaction that makes you all the more endearing, clarks thinks to himself.

“i-uh. yeah, well hopefully not too hard to the point where you faint at work or something.” clark adds onto the topic and god, you wish you could change subjects right now.

“haha, yeah! maybe i’ll signal for superman or something!” you don’t know why but you find yourself naturally stepping back as if there was a spotlight awaiting your tony-winning performance. 

“help, help! superman! i’m gonna faint! catch me!” 

and the recipient of the most embarrassing interaction goes to…

you’re red in the face, hot in the neck, clammy in the hands, and even clark’s wholesome laughter couldn’t save you from embarrassment. you force yourself to think he’s laughing with you (and he is), not at you, and that calms you down, just a tiny bit.

“great drinks and service, and now a show. i gotta come visit more often.” clark occupies his hands once again with his drink and sandwich, nodding you off. “thank you- again. i’ll see you tomorrow?”

“yea-“ the sound of a bell cuts you off and you look over to the source—another customer. “y-yes! tomorrow.” 

clark’s voice is faint when he bids you goodbye, but you were already off to the other side of the cafe, tending to the customer, and eventually too focused to notice his exit when a line of customers quickly forms.

you work quickly within the next few minutes, knocking the orders down in an impressive personal record, and a huge weight lifts off your shoulders when you call out the last order of the line, until that bell chimes in again.

three more hours to go. you sighed, tired on your feet as you walk your way towards the ordering counter, greeting the customer.

“hello! welcome to-“

“i’m sorry, i lied. not tomorrow.”

you slow your approach, taking a moment to register what the familiar man was saying. “wha- clark? what do you mean?” usually you’d smile when you see him—clark—but he seems conflicted, disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual friendly demeanor, and so you could only muster a soft half-smile out of worry.

“can i see you tonight?”

clark stands tall, but not confident as he waits for your answer, nervously shifting his weight onto on his toes and heel, hands dug into his pockets.

“i-uh. yeah. i get off at five-“

“five…” clark ponders for a quick moment before nodding, gracing you with that comforting smile of his. you're at ease again, if you ignore the incredibly annoying swell in your chest.

“i’ll see you at five.”

© nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[yonemurishiroku]

have any good nico di angelo fics? Ones that don't really focus on romance at all? Maybe some nico and hades father son fics too please.

You have come to the right place.

Lemme introduce my Hold me like we're going home, wherein I focus on everything but romance, since this was specifically created to appease my 'Fuck romance I'm going back to my daddy issues' attitude.

There is an oneshot of Nico & Hazel, one of Nico & Hades, one of Nico & Alecto. The last one is Nico/Thanatos, so feel free to skip it lmao.

Now to others' works:

this is Mandarin but trust me when I say it's good. Like. Unbelievably good. it's about a day of Nico's family back when they were still in Italy and he was still a baby. This also opens a new door into the dynamic of Hades and Nico. I used GG Translate to read it.

It is what the title says

Zagreus and Nico!!! 🤗🤗 I read this without knowing anything about Zagreus so I guess you can give it a try??

Ok i honestly have no idea why putting this in is a good idea when I don't even know if you're into DC or know Superman in general but like. i mean it centers on Nico. And it's about a platonic connection. So it technically fits, right?

Nico & Persephone!

Nico and Hades bonding over family dinner

Nico coming out to Hazel

About Nico and his manipulation skill

Spare the Rod: Demeter curses Nico to obey everyone else's commands. It's more angsty than it sounds problematic, really. Like. It hurts physically.

Nico and Luke, in the depths of Tartarus (one of my fav)

This series about Nico and his emotional support dragon:

There are many more but tbh I'm in no position to dig through 700 bookmarks of mine so this is everything I can offer. 😅 Hope you find something to your liking!!

[emblemxeno]

This ask is going to be kind of long, but your platform is really the only platform where I feel comfortable having this conversation. You don’t have to post this if you don’t want to, I won’t feel any sort of ways about it, but I’ve got to get this feeling out of my system. The way the fandom treats Fates compared to the other games in the franchise, makes them completely unbearable. I don’t think I can forgive the fandom for it even if they did somehow start giving Fates its overdue credit. Treating its fans like shit for almost a decade is unacceptable. I don’t know how so many people can justify their behavior in regards to this game. The fans of this game have literally done nothing to the fandom other than love it unapologetically, and we still get condescended to about it. You dare offer your opinion about a take in the series and it’s like, “You’re a Corrin fan, you have no right to talk about anything.” I have never seen a group of fans that have to literally HIDE the fact that they cherish a game in order to appease its larger community, it’s so disgusting. I don’t care if I’m being harsh with this ask because I have witnessed and dealt with this condescension for years. I don’t care to spare any feelings at this point, and I think the fandom certainly doesn’t deserve any of our grace either. Calling out the elitism, cliquish behavior, and hypocrisy is the right thing to do no matter how much some people soften/normalize these issues.

Hope you don't mind me posting this anon.

It's certainly an unfortunate situation. While Fates has its problems--I say this as a diehard fan--I agree in that it's in a singular situation where it's just met with derision initially and only given praise in backhanded manners. Think "Fates sucks but it does have great X and Y" and including an obligatory compliment towards Conquest. Which, don't get me wrong, Conquest is fucking amazing in the gameplay department, but half the time I'm just like... all right, I think you're just pretending to like anything of Fates just because you feel obligated to like one of the most acclaimed gameplay centered entries in the series.

There was just the perfect storm of controversy and unmet expectations that people had towards the game: the woefully inaccurate conversion therapy accusations, the romance options, the sales model of having multiple versions, the story not being liked, Corrin not being liked, the cast being seen as tropey, the fanservice hatred, etc. Its reputation from pre-release to nearly a decade after release is just a swamp of negativity.

And, in risk of sounding defensive and deflective, Awakening did most of this first. Awakening used being gay as a constant punchline especially in DLC (but people are reclaiming that now as something to be praised cuz of course), Awakening had problematic romance options (Nowi, any of the children but especially Nah, Donnel, Ricken, and Lissa are still underage, Aversa is technically your sister and she's written in the M!Robin support to tease that aspect, Tharja in her entirety), Awakening's cast was the de facto tropey cast before Fates, its story was criticized for the same things Fates was (poorly explained lore and world, pacing issues, convenient plot devices, pandering to a previous game, and had its exclusive issue of being inconsistent with Archanea's lore), Robin was criticized for being an all loved player insert with too many powers/importance, it started the oddly designed armor designs for fanservice reasons, and while it didn't have multiple versions, it was the first game with a ton of paid DLC.

Don't get me wrong, I love Awakening to pieces. But that game started pretty much everything Fates gets shit for. Yet it gets retrospective love or at the very least a pass cuz... Fates does it worse/more and because it was gonna be the last game in the series? Wouldn't it be fair then, to give slack to Fates for following in the footsteps of the most well received and successful game in the series by replicating it while trying to improve on what some felt were lacking? But I guess at that point, people think it utterly failed in improving on the story and characters so :/

I think you have a point regarding Fates fans as well. We're pretty much the only FE fans that get unironic negative labels, at least by casual aduiences. Apparetnly we're "coomer, porn brain freaks who don't know what good games are." Though, that's about it in terms of the elitism thing, otherwise I think it's just fans of older games being out off by the direction newer games have gone, and most make no distinction and criticize all of Awakening, Fates, 3H, and Engage. Still, Fates fans are the ones getting the most accepted flak.

To end this off, let's be honest: If Fates is the example most people give of the worst game in the series, FE fans have it pretty fucking good lmao.

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #19: Taken

Nebula was puzzled as they stared at the slowly growing pile of things that had been handed to them over the last couple days. People around here seemed nervous around them even. Handing them gifts and flitting off as if spooked. It was confusing to say the least.

The gifts ranged from foods to flowers to semi-precious stones. Nebula couldn't recall doing anything to deserve such items from the people in this deeper part of the woods. They barely interacted with some of the other villages this deep. These villages were much like the one they had been born into, keeping separate from the larger world and it's dangers.

"I just don't understand this..." Nebula mumbled as they looked over one of the stones. It was pretty but they didn't feel like they'd done anything to deserve all these gifts either.

"They're trying to stay in your good graces apparently." Gwyn spoke as she arrived back to their camp and took a seat across the fire from Nebula. "I tried talking to a few of them without you around to see if they'd bother to talk to me at least."

"And? What luck did you have?" Nebula raised a brow curiously.

"They think you're a fae creature that will take their children away from them if they do something to displease you. Apparently you and Karma have created some deep woods stories for yourselves. Unintentionally I'm sure." Gwyn laughs merrily at the sour expression on their partner's face. "Stories aren't necessarily bad, love. It can also be a good thing. They're likely to easily turn over any magical artifacts you want to take back to your village without any real fuss."

"I suppose that is true... But I don't like the idea that they think I will take their children away like some monster..." Nebula huffs softly as they cross their arms and scowl. "Karma wouldn't even eat children."

"I know that. They don't know that. And I find no harm in them continuing to believe the stories. Keep letting them believe you're some fae being. You should have heard some of the stories of my lady in her time. Many were exaggerated. Some were helpful by letting them be believed. Maybe they'll start thinking I'm some ice fae solider who guards you." Gwyn teased as she pulled out her waterskin to take a drink.

"Ha... Ha..." Nebula huffed before they sighed softly in defeat. "I suppose I can leave the stories. I just wish they'd stop trying to give me gifts."

"Well I for one am not turning down free meals. It's one less thing we have to hunt for this deep in the woods. One less set of rations we have to make last till we head back towards the cities. If anything, just promise them they are safe. Act like their generosity has appeased you enough already." Gwyn shrugged as she made the suggestion.

"I suppose that may work. Though I will also try not to turn down any offered meals. But only if they seem like they have enough to spare feeding us. I won't use these stories and rumors just for a free meal if it means hardship for them."

"I would never think you would. You stayed with us for moons. You always offered to help because you insisted. It's not in you to take advantage of those at the bottom. Not like those holier than everyone else high lords in Ishgard."

"Of course not." Nebula put the gifts away before getting up to move to sit with Gwyn, snuggling in close and resting their head against her.

[potionwine]

Friend!!! Speaking of Anabella!!! I was always so curious about her relationship to Joshua!!! I mean it was always easy to hate Clive, but Joshua IS the Phoenix, but he is also sickly! She mentions later how hurt she was when people talked about that! How Clive must've been born out of wedlock and her real child is weak!

She contradicts herself when talking about Joshua! "He wasn't good enough!" "He was my everything!" She doesn't want to let Elwin drag her little boy to the frontlines but she also HATES that he cannot *perform*!

She kills herself not immediately when Olivier dies, but when JOSHUA comes towards her and offers a hand in sympathy! I WANT TO KNOW MOREEE

ugggghhhh this is my SPECIAL INTEREST.

I also found it really really fascinating that she seemed to harbour some lowkey, semi-conscious resentment towards Joshua for being weak and frail! Even in modern day, when a child turns out less than what people perceive to be "normal", whether that's physically or mentally, people still instinctively blame mothers for those "defects", and as someone who's actually responsible for carrying on noble lineage, I can only imagine the intense scrutiny over every child she produced.

Her hurts runs so deep that it makes me wonder if Elwin ever did anything about it or ever protected or defended her on that front. The game portrays Elwin as all sorts of good---and I've got an incredible rant in me somewhere about that but I shan't be a hater today---but I can easily believe an Elwin who doesn't truly realise and comprehend the level of insult that his wife feels and experiences about all of this. I mean, oooff, even in daily life, in the workplace and such, I encounter male colleagues who I would genuinely consider to be decent people, who every now and then say things to dismiss a thing that their wife/female partner is rather extremely hung up about? Like you've described this anecdote to me and even from my outsider perspective this thing sounds like it's really important to your wife and OKAY it sounds funny and illogical to you, or maybe you even do take it seriously but you just reassure her verbally in private instead of doing something about it? Then in my head I'm just thinking, no you don't understand, she needs you to defend her, she literally needs you to say the thing to your family/do the thing in front of your acquaintances so that she feels VALUED.

And that's why, there's a question mark about Elwin's conduct. Putting aside whether or not he actually did have affairs, since the game is silent on it, if we are starting from the premise that Elwin as head of state is busy with wars and governance and whatnot, hasn't got the time and effort and caring to spare for his wife's "paranoias" and insecurities about people laughing behind her back about rumours that directly concern his behaviour? Yea, that's a recipe for resentment and marital strife. Of course it is. It's practically the age-old story of marriage: one person thinks it's a big deal, the other person doesn't think it's a big deal, and the real indicator of love and respect is how partners choose to respond to each other.

However, I am open to the possibility that he may have done his absolute best to reassure her and appease her and be honourable and righteous and everything the game tells us to expect of Rosfield men as a baseline, so I am prepared to accept that Anabella's hangups are not something that he could ever have solved, even if he did defend her repeatedly and continuously with all the vigilance of a good husband. It may be that Anabella's definition of a good husband is one who simply accedes to her every wish, and that is not something Elwin would ever do, not on his characterisation, whereas it is something Sylvestre repeatedly does for her.

It's bizarre if people truly assumed a strong child couldn't come from her? Was she herself weak and sickly in her childhood, I wonder? Or is it just that Joshua is so indisputably hers that Clive, in juxtaposition, seems so different that he must come from a different mother. The whole thing is senseless, but also, who's actually being nonsensical here: Anabella herself and her warped interpretations, since she was obviously unravelling, or was the Rosarian court filled with nasty rumours from malicious actors who wished to hurt her and/or the ruling family? Only because I would assume her births are literally matters of national importance, probably attended by a huge amount of physickers and with the entire population, nobles and commoners alike, waiting anxiously for every scrap of news. If Clive popped out from her truly, there would be eyewitnesses aplenty, surely? It's baffling how these rumours were allowed to fester and gain traction, if we assume they are more than a figment of her insecure imagination---and if so, she seems to have fallen completely in their trap too, by never checking her assumptions and stewing in the perceived injury to herself.

After all, in the prologue the onlookers said something like "imagine treating your own flesh and blood like this" after witnessing Her Grace's treatment of Clive---so even though she treats him like trash in public, that's corroboration that people do believe he is hers! They don't say "oh the Archduchess treats him like dirt because, you know, his father, nudge nudge wink wink".

She does contradict herself when talking about Joshua and it drives me crazy in the best way. There's this tinge of contempt when she talks about him huh, a degree of disappointment she can't fully bury in the loud insistence of her love. Even she wanted Clive to be the Phoenix. I think of the prologue, of the little scene where the young brothers talk beneath the moon, of Joshua's little fists shaking with the knowledge of his inadequacy when he said to his elder brother "it should have been you". It gives me the feeling that Joshua knew all along that not a single person ever thought he'd make a better Dominant than his brother.

Olivier... what did she get from Olivier that she did not already have better with her existing sons lol. She loved him like a doll-toy I suppose, which is the one thing her (real human boy~) sons could not become. Personally I think because the game had no sympathy for her, it could not allow her to have any meaningful interaction or confrontation with post-PG Joshua, because to truly see him would be the beginning of self-understanding---something something the tragedy of King Lear. But where works like King Lear are very sympathetic to the foibles and misguided pride of their central Tragic figure, the game doesn't want us to give a shit about Anabella because the creators themselves don't care about her, which is why she never has the opportunity to finish her Tragic arc. She is never allowed to realise exactly what blessings she gave up, never allowed to realise how wrong she was, never allowed the privilege of true insight or the possibility of repentance or even simple regret.

In that way she remains only a wretch, the object of disdain and hatred from the playing audience, instead of a realised Tragedy come full circle.

(Quietly, my little pet headcanon about Joshua being very like his mother in impulse and nature, but who consistently makes different choices and the sum of these choices make him the person she ought to have been as Archduchess? Yea I want her to see this more than anything else. But then Anabella might actually learn how to become a better person, and we can't have that.)

[moochi-daisies]

18+, Minors DNI

- series contains drinking, smoking, cursing and tension~

Find the rest here!

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

2012.01.

I'm comfortable making mistakes.

Well-

I guess comfortable isn't the right word. I'm used to making mistakes, I'll put it that way. There's not much use regretting mistakes, sometimes they even turn into happy accidents, right?

I never wanted to consider meeting him a mistake. But here we are- so let's go back.

It's late Fall of 2012 and I'm 20 years old. And I'm in a bit of a "fuck all" era of life. My mom had moved us out of state to live with her alcoholic, albeit sweet boyfriend of the moment and I had no idea what I was doing with myself. There was no direction I was headed in in particular, life was happening and I was simply drifting along with it. Trying my best to stay afloat, trying my best not to panic or drown.

Things were...not the best at home. A polite way of insinuating that traumatized parents were traumatizing their children. That isn't really the point though, I'll spare the details.

I worked part time at a big shot make up company, I went to college classes (sometimes) and I partied. I had been terrified of partying my entire life until my senior year of high school when I decided to swallow my anxiety and learned a loophole around my social fears: drinking.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was young, ok?

I had been aimlessly scrolling through Tumblr one night, mindlessly doing make up in an effort to recognize my face in the mirror when I came across a flier for a show a few states away. It was being held in some bar, the person who posted it being advertised as the main DJ. Looking closer at the picture on the flier, he was cute. Dark hair and pouty lips. A serious gaze and a smirk that flipped my stomach over.

I messaged him on a whim;

Hey you, I wanna come to your show but won't have a place to stay. Gotta room open?

I snorted to myself, surprised by my own audacity. But what the hell right? You only live once as the saying goes.

I put my phone down. Looking back at my reflection, my mood quickly grew somber. Big brown eyes, pouty bottom lip, straight eyelashes on one eye, curly on the other. Each part of my face felt separated. Like they belonged to multiple people. Like they didn't belong all together on just one face.

The girls at work were customer service friendly. Meaning, they knew I bought my makeup from a convenience store and wore hand me downs to fit the dress code. Meaning, they were never cruel to me but I wasn't invited for drinks after our shift was over. I was allowed to be there but didn't "fit in".

I was used to not fitting in. If you passed by me, you'd probably assume otherwise. Not because there was anything special about me, quite the opposite- I looked just like a regular girl. It was not being able to act regular that got me into trouble. Growing up I let many bully me into normalcy, thinking if I could figure out the rules they were setting that I would be able to appease them.

I never figured out the rules.

My phone buzzed, shaking me out of my inner ramblings.

Haha, hey yourself. Yeah, sure. My roommates are down. I'm Yoongi btw, hope the show is worth it.

I stared at the message for what felt like 5 minutes, my mouth falling open. Then I closed my phone, sitting completely still, frozen in disbelief. A laugh bubbled up and out of me before I opened up the message again. I left my phone open and stood up, shaking out my legs. A buzzing excitement starting to build in my bones.

Okay, I thought to myself, now I just need to figure out how to get there.

The money from my job went to my mom. In an effort to prevent me from partying and to help her not feel completely reliant on her boyfriend for money. I didn't have a car, and there was no way she was going to let me travel out of state to go stay with a guy I randomly messaged on the Internet.

I had a small amount in my savings meant for school. Logically, it would make more sense to spend it on what I wanted to do instead of wasting it on something I wasn't even committed to, right? I wasn't even sure what I was going to school for and had switched majors at least three times within the past two years. This was a convincing enough argument for me to make up my mind.

The show was a week away, and I figured the cheapest route would be by bus considering the short notice. I searched for the tickets, slightly gawking at the 13 hour ride length before exhaling and clicking the purchase button.

I decided only to tell my younger sister, who gave me a wary look and made me promise to check in with her. I decided not to tell my mom, to avoid any unnecessary fighting or being told "no".

I spent the following week in a daze, excitement building with each passing day. Each time I checked in with Yoongi to give him an update, a swelling in my chest made it difficult to breathe.

Was I really going to bus 13 hours to see a random dude DJ on a whim?

Yes, yes I was.

Was this absolutely insane and for the experience more than anything?

Yes, yes it was.

Life experiences felt like collectibles to me at this time. If it wound up being a bad experience, what a story I would have to tell to friends later on. If it was a good experience, what a memory I would have to cherish.

Looking back now, I don't know how to categorize the experience. There's a lump in the back of my throat that I choke on whenever I let it come back.

If I could go back in time to November 2012, if I could stop myself from going and ever meeting Yoongi-

I couldn't.

Some things in life can be avoided while others feel inevitable.

We would have crashed into each other no matter what ended up bringing us together.

[crazybagelbitch]

hurt/comfort Rollaro fic where Nick gets injured during a chase/investigation?

oooh thank you for this prompt!!

"It's not so bad; you know head wounds always bleed dramatically."

"You need stitches, at the very least," Olivia says, in that tone of voice of hers that means there will be no further negotiations, "I won't call a bus but you're going to the ER, Nick."

He looks at her face, winces when he sees her eyes locked in on the gash, and relents.

"Okay fine, the blood dripping down my face into my eyes and nose is making me kinda queasy, anyway."

"C'mon, up you go, you're coming with me and Rollins," Fin says with a vaguely amused chuckle, "slowly, Nick-- one, two three--"

"I got it," he insists, only needing minimal support to get into a standing position and into the back of their car.

Amanda, he can tell, is remaining silent for a reason; she'd risk losing her composure if she opened her mouth. She doesn't need to say anything, though, for him to know what she's thinking.

Nick, you should've waited for back up. Nick, you should have been more careful. It could have been much worse, asshole.

She holds her tongue all the way to the hospital, and Fin seems to pick up on the oddness of it.

"You good, Amanda? Don't tell me you got injured too."

"Nah, just a headache. Would feel bad complaining about it when Nick back there's actually got his head split open."

Nick hears a "what am I going to do with you two," under Fin's breath, and chooses to ignore. Amanda, too, seems to have no problem letting it go.

Cops tend to get pulled back into an examination room without having to wait too long in the ER, and it feels vaguely stupid to him when he's not even close to dying at all, but maybe the short wait is a good thing. Amanda is seeming closer and closer to imploding.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee," Fin says carefully, eyeing the two of them back and forth, "don't kill each other while I'm gone."

"You're not holding it right," Amanda sighs, taking the gauze from him and pressing it into his wound; he tries unsuccessfully not to to wince, "yeah, it's supposed to hurt when you're doing it right."

"I just want to put it out there on the record, but I don't think I did anything too dangerous, so maybe you shouldn't be so mad at me."

"Who says I'm angry at you?"

"You're entire body language, 'Manda. Please just come here and see that I'm alright."

"Fine, asshole," she mutters, and he's willing to pretend not to here the insult if it means it'll spare them the fight when the skin on the side of his head is stinging so badly, "okay, let me take a look. Your pupils aren't blown, you don't seem dizzy, but you do seem like an idiot. So maybe a concussion."

"Amanda," he groans, "you'd do the same thing."

"Maybe so," she concedes with a shrug, "but right now I need to be mad at you."

"...I can accept that," he nods after a beat of silence, remembering how he felt the time Amanda got her wrist sprained, "but can you be mad at me and nice to me at the same time? 'Cause you know, I got a boo boo."

"A boo boo?" she asks with an eye roll.

"I got a 5 year old at home, Rollins. It's hard to turn the dad language off."

"Fine," she says with a huff, dropping the gauze and sliding herself underneath his arm that isn't on the side of his head injury, "you okay, baby?"

He nods, nuzzling into her neck for a quick moment; both their eyes keep glancing past the open door and toward the hallway, knowing that Fin could come back at any minute.

"Yeah, I'm okay. It's going to sting like hell for a while, but no concussion symptoms, I promise."

"They can take a while to develop. Do you also promise to tell me if you start feeling any of them."

"I do," he appeases her gently, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"You didn't, you just pissed me off," she says, but he knows it's a lie. He can tell be the worry in the eyes and the way her lower lip wobbled just a bit at the scene, "but I'll still take care of you. You staying over tonight, just in case?"

"Of course," he murmurs, knowing that the injury is not actually severe enough to need a babysitter but unable to resist the invitation-- maybe it's still just sex or maybe it's a growing bond that he doesn't even want to think about while he's trying to navigate his separation with his wife.

"You're okay," she whispers, and he figures it's more for her than himself, "I got you."

She glances out into the hallway for another half a second, before kissing his cheek.

"I'll let you pick what to watch on Netflix tonight, but only because you're hurt."

[dragonedged-if]

Can we have a snippet where MC lifts up his romanced princess, dips her and smooches her passionately?

Certainly:)

Let's make this a dinner, then turned into a dance ;)

(MC's POV)

The noble clothes, with their intricate designs and rich colors, cling to your skin like a layer of suffocating heat. Every movement is a reminder of their tightness, and the sensation makes swallowing difficult.

You gaze at your reflection in the full-length mirror, taking in the sight of your slicked-back hair and the intricate patterns of your attire. As you adjust the buttons on your chest for the umpteenth time.

With your heart racing and your palms slick with sweat, you stand before the mirror, desperately trying to tame your unruly locks. The weight of the upcoming event hangs heavily on your shoulders, and you can't help but feel nervous. You take a deep breath, telling yourself that you can do this. You're determined to look your best for the occasion, and so you experiment with different hairstyles, trying to find the perfect match for your attire.

Suddenly, the door bursts open with a deafening bang, causing you to jump in surprise. A figure clad in armor strides into the room, his sword swaying at his side with every step.

"Lucas!" you exclaim, relieved to see him.

"MC," he responds with a curt nod, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger.

"Surely you don't think that someone would attempt to assassinate the princess?" you ask, taken aback by the thought.

Lucas doesn't stop his inspection or even spare a glance in your direction as he speaks. "I don't think, I only perform my duties," he says sternly, a reminder of the importance of his role and the constant threat that looms over the royal family.

You let out a scoff, dismissing the notion of someone daring enough to attempt an assassination in the heart of the castle.

"I think no one is mad enough to infiltrate and attack the princess in the heart of the castle!"

But as soon as the words leave your mouth, Lucas stops in his tracks, his gaze turning towards you with a fierce intensity.

"You did!" he retorts, pointing a finger accusingly at you as if insinuating that you were capable of such a heinous act.

Your arms cross defensively over your chest, and a scowl mars your features as you stare back at Lucas. The audacity of his statement stings, and you feel your temper flaring.

"Ouch!" you snap, your voice tinged with annoyance and offense. How could he even suggest such a thing? You may have had your flaws, but you would never stoop so low as to harm the princess or anyone else for that matter.

A smirk played on Lucas's lips as he reveled in stoking your ire. "But don't worry," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "I will stop you if you even raise a finger at the princess."

His words hit you like a slap in the face. How dare he insinuate that you would ever harm the princess? Your anger boiled over, and you could feel your blood pressure rising. But you held your tongue, not wanting to escalate the situation any further.

Lucas's casual promise did little to appease you. You knew that he took his job as the princess's bodyguard very seriously, but his accusation felt like a personal insult. You couldn't help but wonder what else he thought of you, and it made you feel uneasy.

You turned around with a huff, determined to ignore Lucas's presence and focus on your appearance. You looked at yourself in the mirror, straightening your clothes and wiping some imaginary dust off your shoulders, hoping to ease your growing frustration.

"Relax, MC," Lucas said, walking closer to you.

You let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the upcoming dinner with the princess bearing down on you. "I know, it's just that she's a royal princess, and I'm nothing," you said, closing your eyes in defeat.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder, and you opened your eyes to see Lucas standing behind you, his sharp gaze meeting yours through the reflection in the mirror.

"Look, MC," he said, his voice softer than before. "Clara doesn't care if you have noble blood or if you're just a commoner. What really matters is the heart, and if she's agreed to have dinner with you, then I assure you that you've already captured hers."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and encouragement at his words. Despite the doubts and insecurities plaguing you, Lucas's unwavering faith in you was a welcome reassurance. You turned to face him, offering him a small smile of gratitude. "Thank You!"

Lucas wrinkled his nose in distaste at your attire. "No problem. Also, you don't need to wear that," he said, pointing to your noble clothes.

You frowned, checking every angle of your outfit. "What's wrong with it? Maybe the color?" you asked, feeling self-conscious.

"Nope," Lucas replied, shaking his head. "Clara isn't really into that kind of theatrics. Actually, she's just wearing a common dress and a simple ponytail."

Your shoulders slumped in disbelief. Here you were, donning the finest noble clothes and drenching yourself in the strongest-smelling perfumes, only to realize that it was all for nothing.

Lucas chuckled, amused by your predicament. "Fret not, MC. Here, let me help you," he said, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards the mirror.

He ordered you to take off the jacket and unbutton your shirt, exposing some skin to add a touch of allure. Then, he adjusted your hair into something simple yet elegant, framing your face in a flattering way.

"There we go!" he exclaimed, admiring his handiwork.

You took a look at your reflection, surprised by the transformation. Thanks to Lucas's help, you looked much better than before, exuding a quiet confidence and elegance that you never thought was possible. You felt a surge of gratitude towards Lucas, knowing that you couldn't have done it without him.

As you stared at your reflection, marveling at your new look, the echoing sound of boots on marble caught your attention. You turned to see Lucas leaving your presence, and quickly sauntered towards him.

"Thanks again for the help!" you raised your hand, offering a gesture of gratitude.

Lucas eyed your hand for a moment, pondering if he should shake it. He was a man of duty, not of pleasantries. But, with a small smirk on his lips, he finally seized your hand, gripping it tight and shaking it.

"No problem," he said gruffly, his armored form towering over you. "Just make sure you don't embarrass yourself in front of the princess tonight." With that, he turned on his heel and reach for the door but the door opened with a standing person at the entrance.

Lucas bows deeply as he enters the room, showing utmost respect to the royal figure before him. The princess curtsies in response, a playful smile lighting up her face.

"Lucas, leaving so soon!" she says, her voice laced with amusement.

"I'm afraid so, Your Highness," Lucas replies, his tone formal yet friendly. "But I will be outside waiting if you need anything!"

The princess nods, and Lucas turns to leave. However, he pauses for a moment, as if remembering something important.

"Before I go, don't forget my advice, MC," Lucas says, turning to you with a sly grin. "And beware of the princess - she gets a bit scandalous sometimes!"

The princess playfully punches Lucas on the shoulder. "Shh, don't spoil the fun, Lucas!" she chides him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

As Clara circled you, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. Her eyes were fixed on you like a predator stalking its prey. You stood there, frozen, as she moved in closer and closer.

Suddenly, she reached out and gave your butt cheeks a firm squeeze, causing you to jump in surprise. You felt your face flush with embarrassment as she licked her lips in appreciation.

"It complements your physique," she purred, running her hands up and down your arms.

Clara walked around the table, her movements fluid and graceful. With a delicate hand, she pulled out a chair and gestured for you to sit. As you took your seat, you felt her warm breath on your neck, a scent of lavender and rosemary filling your senses.

"You know, sometimes I forget that I'm a royal," she said, her voice soft and intimate. She leaned in closer, her lips almost touching your ear. "Titles are just placeholders, don't you think?"

Her breath caressed your hair, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. Clara's presence was overwhelming, yet comforting at the same time. You couldn't help but be drawn to her every move and word.

A playful smirk crossed your lips as you replied, "I don't get what you mean. Maybe a demonstration might open my mind." You shot a wink in her direction, feeling a thrill of excitement at the possibilities.

Clara's eyes widened with amusement as she chuckled. "Oh, someone's eager!" She winked at you, her voice dripping with playful teasing. "You know what they say, MC, patience is a virtue!" She blew a kiss in your direction, the gesture sending shivers down your spine.

Feeling emboldened, you reached out and grabbed a fistful of air, pulling it towards your lips. "They also say, strike while the iron is hot, but in your case--" You trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unfinished, letting her imagination fill in the blanks.

"Aren't you a philosopher?" she muse.

"I'm many things my sweet but there are parts that I'm much more proficient." you reached for the glass filled with wine sipping it.

Her head slack back, her laughter filling the room. "Now you make me curious!" she proper her chin under her hand.

"Patience!" you return her words. "Let's have dinner first then see where will the night will take us!" you opened the cover smoke coming out.

The aroma of the main course filled the room, and your mouth watered as you took a bite of the perfectly cooked chicken. It was glazed with butter, and the poached eggs on the side complemented the flavor. The two of you talked and laughed, discussing everything from politics to personal interests.

As the main course came to an end, Clara gestured towards the waiter, who brought out the dessert. The sight of the banana split with vanilla and chocolate ice cream on top, sprinkled with nuts, made your mouth water even more.

You eagerly took a spoonful, savoring the rich, sweet flavors that melted in your mouth. Clara giggled as she watched you enjoy the dessert, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

As the meal came to an end, you leaned back in your chair, feeling content and satisfied. "That was delicious," you said with a smile.

Clara nodded in agreement, a satisfied expression on her face. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Now, where will the night take us?" she asked, leaning forward with anticipation.

You stood up from your chair, the music enticing you to move. You turned towards her, offering your hand with a charming smile. "How about dancing?" you suggested.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with amusement. "Taking it slow?" she asked, clasping your hand gently.

You pulled her close, your breath mingling with hers. "More like working up an appetite for our much more rigorous activity later," you whispered, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

Together, the both of you moved to the center of the room, the music guiding both your steps. You led the duet, you arms around her as you spun her around.

As you her swirled around, you felt a sudden rush of desire overwhelming you. "I really like to kiss you right now!" you blurted out, your cheeks flushing red.

She gripped your shoulder, her eyes filled with hunger. "Then what's stopping you?" she challenged, taking the initiative.

Your lips met, and the kiss was intense, filled with a ferocity of its own. As you pulled apart, she looked at you with longing. "Why don't we go to someplace quiet?" she whispered, touching your lips.

"I thought you-! a figure barged into the room, wearing a royal garb and eyes filled with disappointment.

"Ah, so this is where you've been!" the Queen's face was hard, her eyes sharp like daggers.

Clara chuckled nervously, pulling you close to her. "Mother!" she exclaimed, trying to mask the panic in her voice.

Thinking quickly, she looked towards the window beside you. "Let's jump out the window and escape through the garden!" she said urgently.

Without hesitation, you pulled her to her feet, and she ran with you in tow towards the window. She threw it open and jumped out, landing in the lush garden below.

As both of you ran through the garden, you could hear the Queen's angry voice echoing behind you. But both of you didn't stop until you were far enough away to feel safe. You collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath and laughing with relief.

"That was close," Clara said, leaning against you.

"Now let's perform the finale without any interruptions," she said, her voice dripping with seduction.

You could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and your heart raced with anticipation. You couldn't believe what was happening, but you didn't want it to stop.

Now let's finish it there my Readers and I leave it to your imagination but I'm not cruel to leave you hanging and so I will be giving you clues to help you envision the scene 😉😉 🔥🔥

As they explored each other's bodies, the world around them faded away. Nothing mattered except the pleasure they were experiencing in that moment. They moved together in a rhythm that felt natural and effortless, their breaths in sync.

[lichfucker]

to cross running water is a very intriguing title i would like to know more <3

g-d okay so tcrw is my behemoth black sails canon retelling where everything is the same except flint is a vampire

thomas was also a vampire but miranda is human. she's flint's only food source because he has a whole Thing about not drinking from his crew (partially because he doesn't want anyone to KNOW that he's a vampire, and partially because drinking someone's blood releases this sort of aphrodisiac venom that makes it feel Really Really Good to the human so that they're more willing to let you drink their blood again and flint is. closeted. lmao. he's in the gay closet AND the vampire closet)

I plan to alternate back and forth between miranda's pov and flint's pov until miranda dies, and from there I'm not sure if I should introduce silver's pov as well or just ride it out to the end in flint's pov

this was the first black sails fic I started writing but it's such a huge undertaking. I started hagfic to avoid working on it lmao

g-d okay I spent way too long trying to decide on an excerpt to share so just. here you go:

“—with his teeth!”

“The fucking accountant?”

“Sounds like a load of shit if you ask me.”

“Good thing nobody asked you, then.”

“We’re really talking about Dufresne? That whiny little bitch with a face like a fat tit?”

“Don’t say that too loud or it’ll be your throat he’s chomping out next.”

“Boys—Mr. Dufresne is our brother, and he fought valiantly today, by any means necessary, protecting your lives and the lives of everyone else on this crew. So if I’m gonna hear you speaking about him, it’ll be with the respect he’s earned. Am I understood?”

“Sorry, Billy.”

“Yeah, all right, sorry.”

“I heard he drank up the blood, the madman. That’s the real nuts, ain’t it?”

“Maybe he’s a proper pirate after all.”

Flint doesn’t even realize he’d stopped walking until he meets his boatswain’s eyes emerging from the mess. He tries his best to look as though he hadn’t been eavesdropping, but some stray concern must remain fixed in his brow, because Billy offers him an appeasing nod and a simple, “The men love a good story; you know how it is,” before he continues on his way.

The question of the story’s truth withers on Flint’s tongue. Likely it’s exaggerated, but to what degree Flint cannot say. It doesn’t matter, really: it’s true if they believe it. How they feel about it, though, that’s the real measure. Flint doesn’t linger long enough to hear if the awe will give way to disgust, can’t much stomach the thought of standing stupidly by the door to hear his men condemn or commend their crewmate sinking his teeth into another man’s throat, tearing it out, lapping up the blood. The scorn and the approval sicken him alike.

Flint returns to his cabin, hoping perhaps to bolt the door and sit staring at his maps until the ink runs and none of it makes sense anymore, until nothing can penetrate the pulsing red haze that fills the space between his brain and his skull. He’s aware, vaguely, that his stomach feels wretchedly empty, but to swallow down a mouthful of blood—even the rich, sweet gift from Miranda—seems an insurmountable task.

But none of that bears fruit anyway, because when he opens the door, it’s to find Mr. Dufresne poring over the books for what Flint is sure must be the dozenth time since the battle concluded. The sound nearly startles the poor boy out of his skin; Mr. Dufresne whips his head up to meet Flint’s eyes as though each footstep were cannon fire. Between the haunted expression and the spare flake of dried blood on his chin, Flint is relieved of all doubt about what exactly Mr. Dufresne endured today.

“My apologies, Captain,” Dufresne says, “I was just finishing up—”

“It’s no matter, Mr. Dufresne.” Flint takes his seat opposite Dufresne, offers him a compassionate smile. “I understand why one might bury himself in work to avoid facing the rabid throng of his crewmates; even their support may be overwhelming.”

Dufresne appears flummoxed—bashful, even. He looks so young.

“From what I’ve heard, the men are impressed,” Flint says. He pauses for effect before he adds, “As am I.”

[fairydust-stuff]

Rewatch of Heathers 2018 aka Peathers Episode 4

I haven't seen a lot of positive about this show. So I'm going to make some posts about the things that are good here. For each episode.

We see Heather Duke pull Kurt into the bathroom. Then explain they only broke up with him to appease Heather C.

While, I don't give a crap about Heather D x Kurt at all. ( their just not interesting and make no sense. ) Its toxic because Heather Duke mostly bullies him but its not a compelling kind of bad.

But at least Duke has some conflict because they like Kurt but Heather Chandler doesn't want Heather Duke to date some jock. Its weirdly posessive but never goes into full on ship tease catagory. Its highlighted here that Heather Duke is trying to have their cake and eat it to by secretly seeing him.

After some JD & Veronica hook up stuff nothing interesting there and Veronica standing up Betty.

We see, A student named Brianna Parker is shown looking sadly at her empty wallet in front of the suicide tee shirt merchandise. The Heathers are selling, before running off near tears.

The next scene shows Parker in a trailer where we hear people shouting. Someone is passed out on the couch. Suggesting Parker has a bad home life and lives in poverty.

This clever bit of context reveals that some of the students who have reasons to be depressed cann't even afford the merch.

The next scene shows Parker proudly wearing a suicide t shirt she made herself. The other students, mock and belittle her for being unable to afford a new one.

She is stunned thoughout the day and attempts suicide by throwing herself from the bench into the circle of football players during the game.

This scene showcases the hypocracy of the anti suicide campign. It being valued for being new and expensive and trendy rather then its message.

Even the teachers conclude she should of tried to kill herself weeks ago to spare Ram the football player. Since no one will think its cool if the poor kid does it.

This bit of insensative dialog sounds like something that would come out of the Heathers movie even in the 80's.

It also shows the tv show did its homework in terms of showcaseing the pretending to care about suicide for clout theme that was always there in the franchise.

Parker wearing a knock off version of her merch causes Heather Chandler's brand to be tainted with her posters being covered over in the background to drive the point home.

She confronts Parker in the bathroom " Transfer to Washington, transfer to Jefferson. Because your future at Westernberg is as useless as your legs."

Lizzy the froster care girl Heather Chandler adopts to replace Heather N actually calls the Heathers out. Pointing out she lives in a bubble to the point she doesn't understand poor kids like Lizzy and Parker. " We cann't help that we're poor kinda like you cann't help the fact your overweight."

This class divide as highlighted by Lizzy is further stressed by Heather Duke stateing at one point earlier in the scene, " Just a case of the poor girl, trying to copy the ritch kids and failing miseribly." It also highlights the obliviousness of the Heathers due to being wealthy.

Heather Chandler takes Lizzy aside and is clearly confused at being at the other end a social justice tirade. To which Lizzy implies Heather taught her to call out injustice.

Its kinda ambiguious as to wheather Lizzy is sincere about her empathy for Parker, but it is also obvious she, is trying to manipulate the situation for popularity points. ( I think she does feel compassion for her honestly but she wanted to undermine Chandler).

Side note, Lizzy she seems to have some Heather Duke movie traits. She comes off as timid and being implied to have endured abuse in the past with her saying she learned to apply foundation to cover up the bruises. Also she manipulates her way slowly into the spotlight.

Heather Chandler threats to reveal Veronica and JD nearly killed her. As she needs a new angle if her " I am Suicide" thing doesn't work. By revealing she got JD on tape at her house.

Next scene is Heather Duke rubbing Heather Chandler's shoulders while trying to persade her, their completely loyal. Ok I take it back about their dynamic not being shippy! Dam!

At first Heather C is a little off put by it, but then she lets Heather Duke keep touching her shoulders. While argueing they can take down Lizzy for her. (Seriously, why cann't this be our toxic queer ship?) She agrees but warns Duke if they screw up, their in big trouble.

Cut to veronica monolaging about how America even packaged Teen suicide all pretty. A line that speaks for itself.

Meanwhile Heather Duke slips a note into Lizzy's locker implying Rem will kill himself because of her. Which causes everyone to gush about how lucky she is . With Lizzy playing it up for sympathy points.

Showing how suicide at Westernberg high has been offically romantsized.

Heather C lights a fire in the trashcan and walks off while Heather Duke watches her nervously afraid what she'll do to them.

Then Betty is revealed is put on the trail of realizing Veronica killed the third member of their friend group when they were kids. With her presenting her findings to JD.

JD goes along with it to try and kill her.

Meanwhile Heather Duke has Kurt break up with them because their too mean.

Duke gets Kurt to admit Heather Chandler wrote his lines for him. Then says Duke will end up alone if they continue to treat people badly.

While he's not wrong Kurt is kinda hypocritical here because one, He hung out with Rem and Ram who still bully people and sing chants about killing babies.

Also he let Duke's emotional abuser write his break up lines for him.

( I need to write a post on 2018 reboot Heather C and Heather D's dynamic one day, because its a lot).

So Betty kicks JD's butt six ways from Sunday. I'm not personally fond of this choice because JD is supposed to be dangerous. They already have him failing all, but one murder.

It kinda takes away from his threat factor. This version of him is already super rediculous. So this is just even more of a downgrade. I think I see what their trying to do parody JD, by making him super pathadic, but the problem is the story also wants you to see him as threat. Its like seriously writers you should of just picked a lane.

Tension rises between Veronica after she saves JD's ass. With her being pissed that he didn't tell her, he was going to kill Betty.

Veronica crashes the car to give him an alibi while musing "JD showed his true colors tonight its time I showed mine."

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue - CH. 12 "The Visit"

Summary: A dinner turns sour. Two visits rock Lee's world. One is shattering.

*Warnings* Angst, language, alcohol use, death

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Chapter characters: Lee, Josie, Orlando, Marie

Salem, Massachusetts

February 22, 2023

It was 5:30 pm and Dr. Bloom was getting dressed for his dinner date with you. He must have tried on twenty different blazers as none were appeasing to him. He debated on just wearing his light blue dress shirt with a tie, but his nerves were on overload and the tie felt like a boa constrictor was wrapped around his neck. Ripping that off, he finally settled on a casual navy plaid jacket to match his slacks and checked himself over in the mirror with a satisfied smile upon his face.

Just as he grabbed his keys to leave, his phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a not so happy text from Lee.

"So. I hear you have ANOTHER date tonight with Jo. You know, the girl you knew I have deep feelings for? You couldn't wait to move in on her after her and I had some issues. In fact, you wanted her to yourself all along since you failed to tell me she had asked to see me before she left the hospital. You told her you would tell me when you saw me...and you did see me, multiple fucking times. Yeah, I know all about that now and so does she. I don't buy it for one minute that it slipped your mind either. All this time you knew what she meant to me, means to me and this is what you do. Those photos weren't so far fetched after all were they? Good luck man, I wish you both the best."

"Fuck," Orlando whispered and immediately called Lee to explain, but on the first ring, it went straight to voicemail so he knew Lee ignored the call.

Now he was worried about what you were thinking. You hadn't contacted him about it or canceled tonight's dinner plans, so he wasn't sure what to do now. Should he call you first or just show up, he thought as he pondered over those two options for a good five minutes. He decided to just face the music and go. The worst that could happen would be you decking him into next week like he witnessed you do to Lee....and that thought made him cringe something awful.

Orlando fretted all the way to your place about what he was going to say and chose to wait and see what you said....or did as he prepared himself for a possible slug to the jaw.

He pulled into the driveway at 5:55 pm and sat for a few moments, trying to breathe and find the courage to get out. To be safe, he had brought the tie with him and quickly put it back on because he didn't know how you would be dressed or where you would want to go. He wanted to look his best for you even if it meant losing air.

He rang the doorbell and you opened it quite quickly. To his surprise, you then lunged forward and threw your arms around him.

"Josie...are you alright?" he asked in concern as he held you in shock over the unexpected embrace. He was quite relieved that his jaw had been spared.

"I'm fine....just ready to get the hell out of here. So, where to?" you asked as you released him. His chocolate orbs gave you a respectful one over.

"Well...can I first say that you look incredibly beautiful?"

"Thank you." you self-consciously said as you stood there in a boring blue sweater, black leggings and knee high leather boots.

"So do you."

Realizing that you just referred to him as beautiful also, you sheepishly laughed. "I mean... you look really handsome."

Orlando chuckled. "Well thank you. So where would you like to go?"

"How about that clam chowder at my family's pub that you said you would come try?" you asked with a shy grin.

"Ahhh that's right. Alright...then clam chowder it is." Orlando accordingly smiled as he recalled his last words to you in your hospital room of telling you he would maybe come try it sometime.

You were quiet for the entire ride as every brain cell in your head danced around Lee's beautiful face. He was definitely one you would refer to as beautiful as a first choice description without feeling awkward about it. You should have been with him tonight, eating your favorite food, pizza, and watching movies, cuddled up against him on his couch. Instead, here you were with his best friend in which you knew you should have canceled like you told Lee you wanted to do. But Lee pretty much kicked you out, telling you to go be with Orlando...at least that's how Lee made you feel. This was all so wrong. This is not where you wanted to be or were supposed to be....and your heart knew it as it screamed in aching desire for the one man you knew you had fallen crazy in love with. And for a moment, like Lee said that's all you both ever had...you thought he had felt the same way about you.

Orlando and you arrived at the Brady pub and sat at a table since all of the booths were full. It was a Wednesday night during happy hour and fish and chips were the special which always packed in the Irish crowd as well as any other seafood loving customers. Your parents had bought this place when you had first moved to the U.S. from Ireland in your early teens and it was named after your mother's side of the family. You had quite a few cousins that lived here and helped run the place besides you and tonight it was Marie March, your dad's brother's daughter. She was one of the few first cousins you actually liked and spent time with. Another one was Maxi, but you didn't see much of her anymore since her husband Nathan, another Salem police officer, was killed in the line of duty a few years ago who was Britt's younger and other brother aside from Dave and one other you preferred to never speak of if at all possible. Dave, Britt and Nathan all shared the same mother, but Dave had a different father. Maxi had been like you, one shitty relationship after another until she met Nathan and it broke your heart that she had been dealt such a raw deal after she had finally found true love. You knew what it was like too, being in love with a cop and dreading that life altering call. But Maxi didn't get that call, instead she witnessed his death....and ever since then, she had become a recluse to life.

"Josephine, well this is a surprise. And who might this handsome fellow be?" Marie asked with a welcoming smile, although her eyes told you she was certainly curious about the guy at your side as she knew you had been single for close to a year now. She also knew why, after what Gerry did, among two others, Jeffrey and E.J., that you had been involved with which were no better than him.

"Hi Marie." Your eyes widened as you emphasized her name to tell her to not make a big deal out of this, in which she picked up on. "This is my friend, Dr. Bloom, whom I brought to try the clam chowder."

"Ahhh I see. Is that what you will be having...Doctor...Bloom?"

You heard it in her voice, the skepticism that he was something more than a friend.

"Please, call me Orlando and yes, I would like to try this so called super soup....and a bud light on tap if you have that please."

Marie chuckled and wrote down his order.

"Yes, we do...Orlando...and you Josie?"

Your eyes searched the menu as if you didn't know every single item on it. In that moment, you wondered what Lee's favorite foods were and what he would choose off of this menu that held a little bit of everything from straight up greasy fried goodness to prime rib. You pegged him to be a classic burger and fries kind of guy but you would never know now would you?

"Come on Josie, this is thirty minutes of my life I will never get back. Just have what you always have. Chips." Marie jokingly begged.

You sarcastically sighed and handed her the menu. "Fine. Chips and a double of Jameson on the rocks."

"Ok. That's a bud light on tap, a bowl of chowder, an order of chips and a double shot of I'll regret this in the morning, coming right up.." she smirked and left.

"Well she's fun." Orlando laughed. "So...I take you out for dinner and all you order is french fries?" he asked with a playful smile.

"All you got was soup?" you giggled.

"Oh no, that's just an appetizer my dear lady. Going for the lasagna next and chocolate cake for dessert." he grinned.

"Jesus, where do you put it? I gained 5 pounds just by ordering those fries."

"It wouldn't matter how much you weigh. You're perfect."

You had no words and luckily didn't need any as Marie came back with the drinks, in which you took a mouthful of and swallowed it hard. It was clear Lee was right. Orlando was into you and you had been obliviously blinded to it because all your vision allowed was Lee.

Orlando noticed that he may have made you uncomfortable. "Josie...I'm sorry if I came on too strong.."

"Are you?" you bluntly asked as all your mixed feelings you were trying to flush about what Orlando did came gushing to the surface.

"Sorry?" he asked with surprise.

"Lee told me you had seen him the day I was released, and we both came to the conclusion that it was after I asked you to tell him I wanted to see him. ....and the times you saw him after that, you still never told him, but you told me you would whenever you saw him again." you briefly explained in detail as you looked right into his eyes. "Why?"

His eyes fell to his glass of beer as he fondled it for a moment, then he took a large swig.

"I'm sorry, I...I must have forgot. Things have just been hectic lately."

"And I had actually considered that, even defended that excuse to Lee, which didn't go over well at all. But the more I have thought about it up till right now...Orlando...you told me you didn't see him, that he had left already when you came back to my room. Why? Why did you lie to me? and why are you still lying to me?"

He became somewhat disgruntled, took another drink and firmly sat his glass down with a sardonic chuckle.

"So...I bring you to dinner and this is what our conversation is about? Lee?....but then again, it always is, isn't it? Why are you even here? Because he is upset over this? That I know, because he texted me tonight about it and then ignored my call afterwards. You know what he told me Josie? He told me good luck and wished us both the best. Why are you wasting your time with him? He clearly has issues and he is just going to drag you down with him. He's already been suspended from the hospital for his behaviors which may have caused medical negligence that resulted in a patient's death. So yes, to answer your question, I didn't tell him about you because I could tell you were into him, every woman always is and he don't need a relationship when his life is going to shit."

You were mind blown. First, you didn't know a thing about Lee's suspension as he never mentioned a word to you. Had he been embarrassed over it? Or just didn't tell you because of what all happened with Gerry? Second, Orlando's reaction was unexpected and cold....a side of him you had never seen.

He was right about two things. One, it was always about Lee and it always would be.....which you were now aching inside over what Orlando just revealed about Lee's patient. You couldn't even begin to imagine what Lee must be feeling with that kind of weight on his shoulders.....and two, you only went out with Orlando because you couldn't be with Lee.

You prayed for a sign. Should you just let Lee go and the moment, he simply called it, that you and he shared?

Two kids were arguing at the jukebox over which songs they wanted to play. One of the boys began vigorously pushing random buttons to make the other one mad. As the other boy ran off yelling for his mom, you couldn't make up what happened next even if you tried. The first time ever I saw your face began playing. You finished off your drink as you fought back the forming tears as your sign had been sent and received.

"So you just decided to make that decision for him...and for me. It's quite clear to me that you didn't do that for his benefit, but solely for your own. I want to go home. Please take me back."

You stood up and so did Orlando.

"Josie, please sit back down. Let's talk about this. I didn't mean to sound harsh."

"Then what did you mean?

"Because I don't think you give a damn about Lee's feelings or what he's going through. I thought you did before, until your true colors just shone bright like a diamond."

"No Josie, that's not true. We've been best friends since high school. If I didn't care, why did I even bother coming to tell you about the pictures your sister sent him?"

"Ummm, I don't know, to make yourself look good in my eyes?"

"So...what...you think I'm fake? Is that it? What about you? What did you come here for when you could have just canceled? Clearly you wanted to come...unless you're here out of pity or obligation...but then there's the hug when I arrived which felt a lot more than a friendly one. You were glad to see me....I mean...weren't you?"

"I was, yes. But you're making it into something that it's not and I am sorry if I have ever mislead you. I can give you honesty, something clearly can't. I came here tonight because Lee and I had an argument...and I never should have because it's what caused the entire fight to begin with. He said the same thing, that since I accepted your invitation, then I must have wanted to be with you. He wrote me a letter before all that which is why I went to him...if I had received that letter before you asked me, I would have declined. So...If it weren't for all that, I would be with him tonight...right where I wanted to be. You and I...there could never be a you and I...you're his best friend as you said. How awkward would that be for one? I would still see him from time to time and I couldn't deal with that...and two, I...I don't have romantic feelings for you Orlando. Only friendship...and even then, how can I trust what you say now?"

All he did was stare at you after your cold hard truths.

"Well then...I don't see how we could even remain friends if seeing Lee will bother you so much and since you cannot trust me. I will just stay away from you from now on."

You had hurt him and you never wanted to or meant to. You figured no more should be said.

"Ok." you simply agreed as you peered up at him in shock of his solution.

Amazed by your ease of agreement, he pulled out a 50 dollar bill and tossed it onto the table with a disbelieving half smile as he nodded.

"I guess that's it then. I'll take you home."

He waited for you to go and then he followed.

The entire drive back was pure silence as he never gave a single look at you either. You knew that because you slightly glanced at him a few times, feeling like shit for being so painfully upfront to him. You didn't think he was a bad person for he had always been nothing but good to you....and you surely would miss him.

Pulling into the driveway, he stopped and put the car in reverse as he sat with his foot on the brake waiting for you to get out. You opened the door and then turned back to him.

"Orlando I..."

"You should go." he flatly said as he still wouldn't look at you.

Your eyes welled up with tears as you sighed and got out, watching him drive off. You didn't want things to end this way and hoped it would not be permanent.

Orlando sat down to eat his usual tv dinner and poured himself a glass of wine. He went to take a bite of the potatoes but they were still frozen which turned off to eating entirely.

Dropping the fork, he knocked back his wine in three gulps and poured another glass, then just stared at it. His lips pursed as anger began to consume him.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!" he shouted and threw the glass, shattering it against the wall, then stood huffing as he watched the staining red liquid streak down the pure white panel.

He then went to his room and laid down where your picture still sat beside his bed, but this time, staring only at the ceiling.

February 23, 2023.

Lee was up bright and early working on the porch, cleaning up the mess from the window fulmination the day prior.

He hadn't slept a wink as thoughts of you being with Orlando monopolized his brain, imagining his supposable best friend's lips on yours...and much more. Then he thought of how terrible he was to you. You had told him you would cancel so you could stay with him and he had stupidly told you to go, and not in a very nice way. Your last words resonated loudly in his head...you're your own worst enemy. How right you were. He didn't know a good thing, even when it hit him right in the face...and his jaw still slightly ached to prove it. Every five minutes, he looked at his phone in hopes there would be a message from you and every five minutes he fought off the urge to message you first. It wasn't pride keeping him from doing so...it was a lot shame...and a little bit of residual anger.

The back door in the kitchen blew open and banged against the counter. Lee knew this sound from when Jacob used to come hauling ass inside from the back yard. He immediately went to see what happened as it was not a windy day.

After everything that he had already witnesses of supernatural events, this shouldn't have came as no surprise to him, but it did in ways that no words could express or explain.

Before him, in the doorway stood a sunlike glowing vision of what he could make out to be a woman with a little boy clinging to her....

It then became clear to him who they were. His mother and his son...Jacob. All he could do was gaze at the apparition with utter incredulity. The bright glow radiated over him with a soothing and peaceful feeling.

"M...Mom? Ja...Jacob??" Lee whimpered as tears burnt his disbelieving eyes.

His mother began to speak but he couldn't make out what she was saying. He tried desperately to read her lips and thought he may have deciphered one word...James. His father's name.

Lee reached down to touch Jacob, but lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees as they both vanished. He got up and went straight to the cupboard, pulling out a bottle of Jack and swigging down his first consumption of alcohol in two weeks, then turned back to stare at the empty doorway, trying to breathe. No one would ever believe this, for he couldn't even himself.....but he knew you would.

11:11 am.

Lee had blocked it all out of his mind and continued working on the house when he noticed the clock being at 11:11. It instantly reminded him of the texting conversation he had with you at that time and how you had gotten him to make a wish at the same time you did. He stopped what he was doing and gazed at the time, closing his eyes and wishing all over again for what he had wished for....you.

At exactly 11:22, you came walking through his wide open front door.

"Lee?"

The bewilderment of today's events had taken him aback by seeing your beautiful face after he had just wished for you only moments ago.

Immediately, you began babbling all of your feelings before he could even speak.

"I ended it with Orlando...I mean the friendship...and..I...I'm not gonna go there.....what gives you the right to tear up my life like this?? I just...what's between us...I need to know if it's real..."

"I...I just can't take another lie....do you care about me or not?" you continued as every fiber of your physical being trembled.

Your words caught him off guard and he walked down the steps to you.

"So, Orlando admitted to you that he lied, I gather...about telling you he didn't see me that day when he in fact did...like I told you....like you figured out as well..."

"Y..yes Lee. I ended the dinner before it ever began. I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be here and I even told him that in not so many words and made him take me home. I..I don't want to talk about him anymore. You were right ok? Is that what you want to hear?"

You sat down on the banquette at the bottom of the stairs and watched Lee so intensely as he sat down on the steps and looked at you in a way that answered the questions you had just asked him.

"I...I just need to hear you say it...I need to know what you feel about me. I can't take feeling this way anymore, being unhappy every minute I am away from you."

He gulped at your words. "Jo...you deserve to be happy. And...even if I feel you deserve so much better than me....it's all I want...to be the one that makes you happy. I can't take this feeling anymore either. Missing you...picturing you with someone else....my god of course it's real...I care a bout you more than you could ever know. I'll never understand what I ever did to deserve you, when I feel that I don't....I couldn't help myself...not one, not one single woman has ever made me feel this way....How dare you be so perfect... "

He then got up and walked over to you.

You stood up and almost broke down at his exceeded confirmation to what you needed to desperately know.

"There is no better than you.....are you sure you're not just saying that because it's what...what I need to hear?"

"Why would I tell you something that wasn't true Jo? Something so meaningful?" he said as he came closer to you. So much so, that you could deeply breathe in his cologne. You felt so small and innocently intimidated by his towering form standing over you, wanting him to just pick you up and shelter you in his strong arms, the place you have never felt more safe in.

"I...I don't know...I have heard so many things, things that were only words. I'm...I'm so scared to believe you. That...you're real."

He gaped down into your eyes and stroked the back of his hand down your cheek. His touch ceased your ability to breathe as your eyes were fixed in his stare....and then his deep supple voice spoke in such a way that caused tremors inside your core that has so anxiously yearned for him.

"I...I think we are having another moment. Let my actions prove my how real it is." he softly whispered with a seductive smile.

"I...ok." you squeaked, also in a soft whisper.....begging for his lips to take yours.

As you both stood immobile, locked within the moment, Lee broke the barrier and began to lower his mouth to yours. His warm flowing breath mixed into yours, giving you back the air you had lost within his gaze. But again...the moment was shut down by his phone ringing.

Startling you, you stepped down from your tippy toes as he closed his eyes in frustration and let out a heavy sigh.

"Here...let me shut my phone off."

Lee pulled it out of his pocket and went to push the button until he saw who was calling. His eyes held fear and his hand visibly shook as he answered it. It was so quiet in the house that you could hear every word the woman said to him.

"Dr. Pace. It's Angel. I..I don't know how to tell you this...but...your father...he passed away this morning...."

@redeemer46

[howl-fantasies]

Hey! It’s me again, after a while; I was wondering )if your requests were open) if I could request a oneshot about (Gotham) Edward Nygma alongside any other Gotham charecter, who have a very pristine and classy significant other who they work alongside, and one day said S/O is sat in their apartment (or place of residence) with their hair in rollers, with a face mask on, eating some sort of fast food watching, some reality TV show like ‘Say yes to the dress’ and is acting very different to their usual somewhat glamorous self.

I thought of this a while ago as I have recently been able to relax as my uni work load has been put on hold for the summer holidays! Woo Hoo! Anyway, I appreciate your work and Ishiguro do not wish to complete this request that is absolutely fine.

- Elsie x

Hello there dearie!

Oh my lord, I absolutely love the concept! Gotham's men NEED to learn nobody never wake up with a full makeup on and don't turn on themselves like the Sims when they jump out of bed to look perfect. I had so much fun imagining our guys having a mental breakdown seeing their S/O "off" mode.

So, here it is :

GOTHAM VILLAIN WALKING ON THEIR S/O WHEN THEY ARE ON THEIR "OFF" MODE

EDWARD NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

Edward was having a "meh" day. One of those during which nothing seems to surprise / interest him. It happens, you know, him being a genius and all, he sometimes finds himself being bored. But you, his stunning, witty, classy partner would know how to make his day better, he knows it.

Unsuspecting, he used the spare key you gave him a month ago and walked inside of your apartment, ready to see his day brightened by the simple view of your impeccable self. How lucky of a man he was.

"Dear?" He would call when you weren't here to greet him like you usually did. He sent you a text before coming, he was certain.

He heard the noise of your TV, pretty loud, so it was why you didn't answer. Was it also why you didn't read his text? Strange, he pictured you more like the kind of person to be lost in a book or something. But that was ok, he also had his times when he needed to put the thing on, to hear the news about him, for instance. Though, the high pitched female voices started to make him doubt you were watching Gotham News.

Nevermind, he followed the voices to your living room and brutally stopped when he saw the back of your head. What was the bright pink fluffy thing in your hair?! He had to open his mouth when he hear you. "Are you kidding me, look at you Meredith?! You look like a freaking pièce montée with that!" Did you hurt your mouth or something, you sounded like something was stuck inside of it (not something under 18 here, everybody keep calm please!)

"My love?" He asked.

"Oh fuckity Shitty Fuck!" You screamed, making one hell of a jump. Now on your feet, you were facing him, absolutely horrified.

You decided you needed to let your "on" mode cool down a bit today and since no robbery nor abduction were on your calendar, you wanted a little "off" time mode only for you.

Off time, meaning here: putting a bluish moisturising mask on your face, putting your favorite pink rabbit ears headband, your fluffy pajamas and slippers. You ordered a pizza earlier with soda and finally decided to watch your favorite trashy tv show. And here you were. Gawking like an idiot in front of your boyfriend, who looked like he was considering calling a priest to exorcise you or something.

"Ok, Ed. Please don't panic." You said, making an appeasing gesture with your hands.

"Don't panic?! Don't p-... Dear, what happened?! Did you encountered Jerome and he forced you in a weird disguise? Or am I hallucinating?!" He squeaked suddenly reaching for his wrist to check his own pulse.

Ok, he was totally panicking... "Ed..." You called again with a sigh, feeling your hand brush against your dry mask on your forehead. "Dear, it's not an attack or a prank or anything. I'm just taking a little time for myself, like... pampering, see what i'm talking about?."

Hearing your resigned voice and the little bit of annoyance in it, he stopped his frantic health check. Ok Eddie, time to think like a grown man.

Please make some space for Mister Riddler in his inner mental theater. Y/N is a human being, pretty much like him. A beautiful human being with a sumptuous as-... *Sorry Ed had to mentally punch him to keep him on track.* Ahem, like he was thinking before being brutally interrupted, Y/N is a human. Like him they have morning hair, don't always wear makeup nor impeccable clothes, and they must have to work hard to keep their skin so smooth and beautiful and...

"Ed?!" Now you are the one looking for his pulse. When you caught his gaze, you find this little light, you know, the one meaning someone FINALLY had put two and two together DUH.

"Y/N, I got it." He said, putting his hands on your shoulders and taking a long inspiration. "Of course i did. I'm a genius. Pampering, taking a self-care day, feel comfy and all..." But he suddenly turned you around to face the TV, "I got everything, except this! I mean, what the hell is this?!" He had to point the tv with his index for good measure.

He never watched "say yes to the dress." Of course he hasn't. Poor dude was too busy cracking puzzles and riddles. He's pretty confused here. You will have to explain how in hell this trashy thing is helping you feel relaxed.

Or don't, after all, it could be a pretty good opportunity to explain your lover you both have your hobbies and have to respect it ;).

Would totally be ok with you taking care of his skin and his nails. And the man would be super proud of it let me tell you. If someone messed with his fresh manucure, he would immediately turn to you / call you and apologize. "I'm afraid, we'll have to plan another self-care session my dear. Sooner than expected". (Relationship goal here!)

--

OSWALD COBBLEPOT / THE PENGUIN

Oswald being Oswald, he would HAVE to walk on you on one of his worst days.

His mood was terrible and he seriously was in need of a good hug, a good vent and probably his mother “special bad days” tea. 

Since you moved in with him a few weeks ago, his first words to poor Olga when he went through the main doors were “WHERE IS Y/N?!” of course he had to yell even if the woman was not even a meter from him, taking his coat, hat and umbrella with a calm we all have to acknowledge. The maid will simply point in direction of the living room, keeping her smirk well hidden. Poor boy is up for a good and well deserved shock in here. 

Oswald would limp in a rush to you, grumbling like an old man all along, and couldn’t wait to have you listen about his terrible day and the bunch of idiots he had to deal with. 

“What the hell happened?!” He heard you scream in outrage when he was a few steps away from your position. He felt a smile growing on his face. Of course you would be concerned about his distress, you were like this with him, a worrywart, but his worrywart and he was the same with you. 

“Thank you! Someone at least is able to read the mood in a room”, he had to say, glaring at Olga who, again, shrugged and get away to dust the stairs. She wasn’t going to miss the show. No way. 

“No seriously, what happened to you poor thing, what did they do to you?”, Y/N cooed from the couch. 

Finally, Cobblepot emerged from the hallway, his mouth ready to answer them when all the air he took to do so was sucked out of him. “M-My dear?” He called. 

Y/N tensed on the sofa. Oh dear hell. Oh no. 

No excuse was good enough to explain your current state: slumped on the couch, a tiger face mask, bright yellow and blue unicorns air clips and the worse? Fluffy pajamas with a penguin and a polar bear walking hand in hand on the snow, with the sentence “Take it slow in the snow” sewn under them. No. Nope. Nu-uh. You were doomed. 

 Y/N smiled awkwardly and made a stupid little wave with their hand. “Oswald...Dear...Well...Hello?” 

His deafening silence was maybe worse than his higher screeches. When he finally opened his mouth, they were covered by the sound of the tv. “Oh my god, yes! Yes it’s the one!” 

His eyes followed the female voice and took a long look at the screen. “Is it “say yes to the dress?” He suddenly asked. 

You were dumbfounded a second, frowning your brows but finally answered a low “yes?” 

He would stay silent and resume his walking until letting himself fall ungracefully next to you and start to watch. 

“Oswald? Are you ok?” 

He nodded once, his eyes still on the screen. “Mother used to watch it with me and we would talk about my day.” 

Oh. Oh! Ok, Y/N can definitely make it their ritual. “Want to do it dear? I have another face mask and was about to ask Olga for another tea. How does it sound? 

Sounds perfect. Cobblepot will 100% adopt this ritual and talk about his terrible day while you apply some cucumber on his tired eyes. He knows how to do perfect manucure (mommy boy, remember?) and would help his S/O with their nails, hair, skin... everything. 

Their self care is as important as taking Gotham’s throne. Anybody interrupting them would be dead. And “Say yes to the dress” will stay, giving the two the perfect opportunity to bond even more about fashion. Oswald is also a very talented tailor after all, so he knows what he’s talking about. Enjoy!  

-- 

VICTOR ZSASZ

Since when didn’t he stalk you? A day or two? He was letting his guard down. What if you suddenly decided to run away, change city, were shot by a lunatic... and here it goes, his brain started to panic. He was pretty busy lately, thanks to Jim, Harvey, and every idiotic cop in the city suddenly realizing their job was in fact to arrest criminals, not taking their money and looking the other way. Aah...Good old days...

Anyway, nothing now was about to stop him to go to his S/O. Even if you gave him a key, (please don’t) he would prefer to pick the locks of your door, you know...for the thrill and everything. And, I mean, I you’re lucky enough to have survived Zsasz, it probably means you have some strong sense of self preservation and weren’t foolish enough to give the sadist your keys. 

When your door finally opened, he went inside of your flat like a shadow, grinning like a madman about the idea of giving you the scare of your dear life. God knows he loved to make you jump and see the rush of adrenaline in your body. 

Your TV was on, he could tell, the sound of a few people resonating inside of your flat like they were with you in your living room. 

Another sound made him stop for a second: someone drinking the end of a soda or a milkshake. Super loud at that. Who would have known the perfect little Y/N, always sipping their beverage like a posh aristocrat was enjoying a cheap one like any commoner on earth. How funny. 

You wouldn’t even realize he was next to the couch. Not until you heard him giggle stupidly making you scream bloody murder and throwing your now empty milkshake at his head. 

Being the troll he is, Victor would dodge it without even giving you a glance and lazily point at the screen saying something stupid like: “the previous one looked better uh?” 

Don’t strangle him on spot. Or do it, not sure here what he may enjoy the most... 

When your heart would finally stops its marathon, you would be able to take a better look at the picture: him, standing next to the couch arm, his left forearm on the top of the furniture, his right hand on his hip and his legs crossed, taking a good look at you, his S/O.

Currently rolled like a burrito in a fluffy purple plaid with only your head, hands and socks visibles. Are these little pizzas on your socks and headband by the way? And are you really wearing a panda face mask? 

You were ready to punch these questions back deep inside of his throat as soon as he will ask them and make him gulp his stupid smirk. Though, you weren’t ready for his gaze to shift from your eyes and face to your table and the “is it pepperoni?” He stupidly asked, pointing at the pizza your were eating earlier like an hungry wolf. You hoped he didn't see it...

Breathe, in and out. It’s the key.

"You really are full of surprises, love." He teased, too happy to see your obvious discomfort.

Option A) giving him the middle finger. Proceed with caution though, he's really good at shooting fingers.

Option B) Scream ugly profanities at his dumb face. Good to vent, but he wouldn't give a f. Just enjoy it more and more.

Option C) slouch back on the couch and throw him the pizza's menu. "you pay for the next and the milkshakes." And wait for his lazy ass to seat next to you, because he will. Oh. And if you feel confident enough, don't hesitate to slap a ridiculous face mask on his already ridiculous face. Yes he doesn't give a shit about looking like an idiot but you wouldn't be the only idiot in the room anymore. 👍

--

A/N - I hope you liked it, have a beautiful day dearie 🥰💐

[whaleofatjme1920]

I don't know if I'm making this on time, but how about a short something with Masky being mad? Just straight up nasty and violent.

Masky's Anger

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: whatever you associate being mad with? Masky, in the way I write him is violent and not afraid to hurt people. That.]

[AN: I adore this ask. Please, when they open again, send me asks abt these characters going off the wall furious they're so much more fun that romance I swear-. 1136 words <3]

He's been pacing like this for the better half of the hour outside the gorgeously ornate oak doors that you recognize as the curtain to your boss's office. Stomp after stomp, you can hear his boots scuff the wooden floor as he seethes. He's trying to be quiet as to not interrupt the conversation housed inside, but you can tell he's failing miserably. He's ran his fingers through his dark hair more than he cares to admit and you're certain that there are claw marks running up and down his scalp from his nails that he's already bitten off.

From your perspective, he's being a giant, overgrown toddler on the verge of a meltdown for what could be chalked up as a simple mistake. Those happen. You've been in this life long enough to know that yourself. People run. Proxies are no exception. Granted, the reason that this one ran is a stupid reason and the entire team could get wiped out for it. But, you know Toby, and you know he's better than that. His love for that odd woman Clockwork would never surpass the love he has for his master.

Right now, Hoodie is trying to damage control with the Operator. You can hear his slight Southern accent, ragged and exhausted as it is, attempt to explain it. Making promises you know that the four of you can seldom keep just to appease an eldritch being that does not love you.

"Masky," you say as you lift your head from staring at your own boots. "Masky, you need to quiet down to let them talk," you attempt to reason. Gods, you wish Kate was here right now. She'd probably have him down in moments.

"I'll fucking kill him," Masky spits back, barely sparing you a glance. "I'll kill him for even thinking about putting us in this situation," he rambles off angrily.

You sigh deeply. Even with Kate going out there to reel Toby back in, nothing can assuage him.

"Stop it," you interrupt him dryly.

Masky looks over at you, fire burning in his dark eyes. He's not happy, nor does he have the reasoning of Tim behind him. This is fully Masky in control, and he doesn't care how he handles you. There's no reasoning in his gaze, not as he begins to stalk towards you. "You wanna police me on how to act?" He asks in a deep, exhausted voice that's about to boil over.

You know you're not in near enough high standing in this group to question him, but you stand your leader. "I do."

Masky steps closer.

Gods, you're in so much trouble.

You duck as Masky throws his fist at you, rage still burning in his eyes and every step. You continue to dodge him, barely avoiding his fists. He's so angry at you that he's barely saying anything comprehensible other than cussing you out. You find it humorous that the man that seems to respect the Operator the most out of your team is currently committing the worst dishonor by being disruptive in his halls. You back yourself up against the wall and glare at him, watching as he cocks his fist back.

Down!

He's punched a hole in the wall. He swears, loudly at that.

You, not wanting to be soft, slip from under his arms and put him in a chokehold. Your arms flex as you wrap around him, attempting to actually incapacitate him. Harder and harder, you strain as Masky begins to wildly buck.

"Fuck you," he growls as he attempts to wrestle you off, his teeth clashing at your arm, attempting to bite through the fabric of your jacket. It's not like it doesn't hurt, you just don't have to worry about infection right now.

You hiss back and tighten your grip. "I told you to calm the fuck down." You feel your body being lifted as he leans forward, capturing you off balance. You yelp, but keep your hold.

Masky spins around and bashes you back against the wall, his head knocking into the bridge of your nose creating a large thud. Some of the paintings lining this side of the wall jostle from the force of him knocking his skull against your face.

"Masky," you begin as you attempt to push him off, "get off me!"

He smacks his head back on your face even harder, making you see stars. The breath leaves your lungs faster than Toby attempted to run away from the group and suddenly, you're falling to the floor. You land roughly on your hands and knees, blood dripping from your nose onto the Operator's carpet. With the back of your hand, you attempt to wipe if off your face and stop tasting iron.

Masky's still not down from his rage induced high. He's currently coming back at you with one of the chairs from the hallway, lifting the heavy oak thing high above his head.

At this point, he's actually trying to kill you. He didn't even look at you like this during your hazing process.

Your body is weak from him repeatedly bashing his skull against your face, and you're seeing triples. Coughing deeply, you attempt to stand back up to fight back - to stop him for coming down on you with a literal chair. "You're pathetic," you spit as he raises it higher.

Masky's eyes flash over with that same rage you've grown accustomed to within the past hour. "Shut up." The way he says it makes chills run up and down your spine. He's cold, devoid of all warmth and what you recognize as your usual relatively considerate leader. He's speaking to you like he would a victim.

His gloved hands tighten around the legs of the chair. A small, sharp breath in and he brings it down on you, a roar clawing its way from deep down in the back of his throat.

You squeeze your eyes shut and prepare for the impact, gasping at the gust it sends down your way, but pale when you realize it doesn't reach you. Peeling your eyes slowly open, you see the Operator's tendril looped out of his just barely ajar doorway to the chair, moving it out of Masky's hands as if it were nothing.

It makes sure the chair is in its proper spot before tending to the rest of the hallway, even nonverbally lamenting over the hole Masky's fist left in the wall before the cracks smooth out as if they were never there to begin with.

"Sir-,"

'I do not have time for your pathetic excuses. Shut up, and get in here,' the Operator's booming, more than upset voice angrily reprimands through thinly veiled calmness.

The doors to the office opened up wider.

Masky does not help you stand back up.

[mack3030]

Me vs We: The philosophy of monetization of creator content and how it falls on the pendulum of society...

So this might seem a little bit different from my typical paywall rants in relation to the sims, but I want to get a bit philosophical today, and share with you a very interesting consceptual theory that I believe shows why platforms such as tumblr and twitter have been moving lately towards the route of monetization of content for creators. It's a bit of a read, so I'll leave it below the cut and if you want to read further in your spare time you can. It's just a bit of geekery on my part.

First, let's talk about the Pendulum Theory. This theory is shared in this amazing book, called Pendulum, written by Roy H. Williams and Michael H. Drew. To save you a smidge of time and money on it, I'll summarize the basic premise and concept of the book. The idea is that the authors looked back at human history, and found a repeating 80 year pattern that to them, represented a prendulum. On one side is "ME" and the other side is "WE". Now it is important to note a few things: First, EITHER side taken to the VERY EXTREME is bad. Second, different countries/societies can be at different "places" on this pendulum. (For example, China and the U.S are inverse of each other right now.) Third, this pendulum is often reflected most in our artistic, literary, and advertising media. {And I would argue social media, for those living in the 20th-21st centuries.} Those are the most obvious places to see this pattern play out. Fourth, this pendulum "swings back" towards the other side every fourty years. Currently, we are due to start swinging back the other direction in the US in 2023. So let's talk about what these ends of the pendulum mean, exactly: ME: [Individually-centered society] Can be summed up as "I'm not okay, you are okay." It is up to ME to change MYSELF so that the world becomes better. Emphasis on personal freedom and expression, materialism, personal goals, etc. The extreme end of this however, can lead to self-centeredness to the point of hurting others. A prime example of the "extreme end" of ME being America's "Manifest Destiny" expansion, which resulted in thousands of tribes of Native American peoples losing their native lands and being killed. Can also lead to hollow and phony people suffering from burnout as they try to chase the material and personal goals they have set for themselves. WE: [Community/Group-centered society] {USA is currently in WE, due to switch back towards ME in 2023.} Can be summed up as "I'm okay, you're NOT okay." WE can work TOGETHER to change the world for the better. Emphasis on responsibility to others beside ourselves, authenticity and transparency, and group conformity for the common good. The extreme end of WE however, can result in Witch Hunts where those who do not conform to the standards set by the group as a whole are determined to be problems. The Salem Witch Trials being a prime example of "WE" playing out, along with the rise of regimes such as Hitler and his Natzi party. Again, want to remind you all that BOTH of these are bad when taken to the very extreme. A healthy "middle" of both of these tends to be the best place for a society to be, but we rarely stay in that healthy middle for long. We normally are swinging one way or the other. I'm attaching a graphic that was attached to a review for this book that illustrates what I just spoke on.

Now how does this relate to tumblr's post+ and twitter? Easy. These companies, without realizing it, are starting to see that we are at the peak of WE right now in the US and that we will be shifting to ME very soon. "ME" culture is a prime place for content-creators and side-hustlers to blossom, and this is only compounded by the fact that "Gen Z" is a very material generation. They like their money, and nice things, and they fully embrace the side-hustle culture. {Again, like most generalizations, this doesn't apply to everyone, but does seem to show an over-arching trend.} Meanwhile, Millenials like myself are here dumbfounded because we aren't as material as this upcoming generation. It's very easy for us to be pissed off and want to protest Post+ and other forms of "monetization" of our social media, because we aren't here trying to build up a follower base for profit. We're here trying to connect to others, and for some of us, maybe be able to make a small profit while sharing our content with others we connect with. But, looking at things from this lens, it's hard to 100% blame Twitter and Tumblr for going this route. All they are trying to do is stay ahead of the eight-ball and follow the trends they are seeing. And while it make certain generations that aren't wired up that way pissed, it will certainly fit the upcoming culture shift that will occur. Sad to say for those of you who are {like me} generally pissed with the constant monetization of everything in our lives, that if this theory holds true, things will get worse from here. The only way that this can be "stopped" is if somehow, the monetization of content gets to the point that it starts trampling on the rights of individuals...leading to copyright issues and lawsuits. This is why accounts like @postplus-protest are out here trying to get Post+ stopped, is they can see this occuring with Post+, especially with how many fanworks are on tumblr. It is the same for the Sims 4 CC world. Until 3D modeling sites/creators, and EA start defending the rights to their intellectual property, we will see the paywalling and monetization of sims 4 content get worse as we swing back towards ME. The "I have a right to do things my way and express my individual choices" defense will continually be used to try to sway people to support paywalling content. Only if the people who actually are having their OWN individual rights to their content such as EA and model creators who are victims of converters speak up, will those who are on the side of "ME" be appeased. Because the individual will trump the collective every time as things swing back towards that end of the pendulum. It'll be an interesting show. That's for sure. I'm not very much looking forward to it. :/ Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. :)