#I've lost everything every single time I've ever tried and the more i keep trying at anything the more i fail and harm others

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

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It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip��. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

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Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

[theoutcastwrites]

Try Again - Il Dottore x Reader

This is a vent fic. Let's just get that out of the way. I wrote this because I needed Dottore to do The Thing™. Don't read too much into this. The feelings will pass

"You've been staring at that journal for the past fifteen minutes," said Zandik, "what's the matter?"

You weren't sure it could be put into words - all the self-doubt that tormented you as of late, the thoughts that circled your mind every waking hour. Attempts had been made, in vain, to prepare a small speech in your head in case Zandik ever caught on. That, of course, he did, but you had nothing to say; not a single eloquent monologue to convey your insecurities in a way that would provoke understanding and not bewilderment.

I feel inadequate as of late. I don't feel like I'm wanted anywhere. Nothing I do matters anymore.

All miserable words that would have been met with a stern look, a simple "you are wanted by me; thus all that you do matters to me".

You tapped your pen against the empty page of your journal. You were desperate to say something, yet whatever it was that would eventually come out of your mouth already felt lacking. Nothing was enough.

"Talk to me," he urged, "you know there is nothing in this world that can't be solved. Tell me what bothers you."

You swallowed. "I feel as if I've lost all my skills. For writing, I mean. I can't come up with anything new and whatever ideas I have feel mediocre at best; uninteresting and aimless. I don't know, I..."

I think I should just give up.

The thought had crossed your mind countless times before. Wouldn't it be so much easier to abandon your work altogether? Why continue hurting yourself with this when you could simply let it all go?

You were tempted. Still, there was something that forced you to keep trying; something strange and incomprehensible that begged you not to give up this one thing that you knew.

Zandik pulled you out of your thoughts, "as far as I can tell - from what little I've seen of your scribbles - you've been writing the same themes over and over. What about trying something new?"

"I have tried. Nothing feels fitting."

"Then take a break. If I hit a dead end in my research I find something else to occupy my mind. Surely reading someone else's works will help you view your ideas from different perspectives?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. It all sounded so simple in theory - this issue should have been so easy to solve - yet nothing had worked. You felt as though you were stuck between four brick walls with no tools to break them down; nothing but your own fingernails to scrape them in hopes that someone would hear you from the other side.

"It doesn't feel so simple," you said softly.

"Why?"

"If I take a break now, I feel as if I'll only get worse." There came the first half of your horrifyingly vulnerable confession, and with it - a lump in your throat that came to embarrass you even further. You whispered the second half with enough shame to drown an entire nation: "If I don't push something out now, I'm afraid people will stop caring about me."

Zandik didn't spare you enough time to hide the tears that already clouded your vision; for he was by your side in the blink of an eye, gently pulling the journal out of your hands and hiding it behind his back.

"Why would you let such a thought become your truth?"

He laced his fingers with yours, wiped at the stray tears on your cheeks with the other hand. His glove rubbed against your skin in a way that was more uncomfortable than soothing but you made no move to stop him. Zandik continued to soothe you in the way he knew best.

"There's no race to run, do you understand? If you keep telling yourself that you'll become spoiled lest you write now, you'll never be able to see your brilliance as I do."

Zandik's eyes softened when you weakly squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. Thank you, you wanted to say, for seeing in me everything that I do not.

"Everything comes and goes; just as dusk turns to dawn without waiting for you to keep up." Zandik placed a tender kiss on your knuckles, "so don't let one difficult moment define you, my dear."

[neerons]

Some of Licht Klein's best quotes

"I suppose being ridiculously earnest could be considered a virtue, but... you should give up on me already. I'm not going to change how I feel—or how I act—no matter what you say."

"I get it... you're radiant."

"Your ears are bright red. (...) I did it on purpose. In case it annoyed you." (—Licht trying to make Emma give up on him by annoying her)

"...Thanks for the sweets. (...) Especially these. They were good." (—Licht appreciating Emma's darioles)

"If you get lost in the crowd, who do you think has to find you?"

"...You're imagining things. (...) I'm the same as I always am." (—Licht being bashful after talking passionately about the theatre troupe)

"My body is covered in scars. You're not used to that sort of thing. I figured it'd bother you. I appreciate the thought, though."

"We're twins, Nokto and I. One of us brings good fortune, and one brings bad. (...) No matter where I go, I cause sorrow to everyone around me. It's clear which sort of fortune I bring. (...) If all I do is cause everyone sorrow... there's no point to me even being alive..."

"I'm begging you... stay away from me."

"This is for you. (...) Your hair clip broke when that cart almost ran you over, didn't it? (...) Anyway... that's why I went into town first thing, before my day started." (—Licht gifting a hair clip to Emma)

"You're going back to the palace, right? I'll walk you partway there."

"...So in other words, you want me to go to this social function with you. (...) I think... ...No."

"Give me back the woman I love." (—Licht to the obsidianite carriage driver who tried to harm Emma)

"After Mama died, Nokto spent less and less time at the palace, and... I discovered what loneliness felt like. We'd spent our lives together, every waking moment, and... it was hard to be without him. It hurt, every single day."

"Just by living, I bring sorrow to everyone around me, and even if I die, I'll still bring sorrow to everyone around me. I don't know what's best, or what's right... I don't know how to atone... I don't know anything..."

"Maybe... I've just been using that old saying... as an excuse to avoid everything. I killed my mother... I ruined Nokto's life... I put you in danger... I don't really believe that I can... make anyone happy."

"I feel kind of pathetic. (...) It's like I'm only ever showing you the worst sides of me."

"When I'm with you... it almost feels like I'm starting to find all the emotions I lost when I was a boy. Pleasure, delight, happiness... A sinner doesn't deserve to feel those things. So I gave them all up. But you always affect me. You mess with my heart. That's why I hate you."

"I wanna hug... Please?"

"Rather than losing myself and aggravating your injury, I'm going to please you even more than usual. I can satisfy you just like this. ...Or do you dislike this kind of service, my lady?"

"You should get some rest. I'll see you back to the palace. There's nothing you can do for him by being here. ...If you're that worried, I'll keep an eye on him." (—Licht reassuring Emma in Rio's route)

"You're so lovely, and so kind, and so warm, and so kind, and so lovely... Hang on..."

"And the seventh is a good-for-nothing womanizer." (—Licht describing Nokto)

"I just remembered how I used to fall asleep when you were explaining military jargon to me. (...) And you never woke me up. You're weirdly nice sometimes." (—Licht to Chevalier)

"I want to become like you. You can dazzle anybody with your strength, and you can see the path to victory in any situation. That's what I need to be, too. I'd never say that to his face, though. That's so embarrassing." (—Licht thinking about Chevalier)

"I punched a whole bunch of Tanzanitian princes. (...) I solved things with my fists." (—Licht talking about his own diplomacy tactics to Nokto)

"Nokto is the only person I can tell something like this to." (—Licht's thoughts)

"I can't believe I'm taking Nokto's advice. Something's got to be wrong with me. But I don't think he was wrong. If I can get her body to be addicted to mine, then her heart won't leave, either." (—Licht's thoughts about Emma)

"I want you to be so obsessed with me that you can't bear to be apart from me ever again." (—Licht's thoughts)

"I want you to adore me so much that you can't think straight." (—Licht's thoughts)

"Keep paying attention to me. Keep adoring me. Keep loving me." (—Licht's thoughts)

"I just don't believe in God's good faith. Besides, my only god is Emma. I believe in her over any Tanzanitian God, even the God incarnate. (...) You don't want to pay the price for manipulating my God, either." (—Licht to Azel)

"You're more normal than people think." (—Licht to Clavis)

"Keep paying attention to me. Keep adoring me. Keep loving me." (—Licht's thoughts)

"I can't help it. I just want to kiss you every time I see you."

"You were super cute."

"Duh." (—Licht's reaction to the soldiers talking about him and Emma being so in love)

"No. No carrots." (—Licht reacting to Yves saying every steak pie needs carrots and peas)

"My goal is to get better at cooking. I want to at least be able to crack an egg without dirtying the wall."

"Ngh... Stop laughing, you... demon." (—Licht to Chevalier mocking him)

"I... I hate women like you."

"I adore you... So much that words aren't enough. Please stay with me forever more."

"I want Emma to see me as a romantic interest. Not as a friend. How do I do that? (...) ...I don't know why I bothered asking you." (—Licht to Nokto)

"When I think about how you never give up, even when things go wrong, and how you're always so optimistic about the future— I'm finally realizing... I've just been running away, all this time. (...) There's nothing more pathetic than the idea of me giving up and running away while everyone else is still fighting."

"Would it be okay if I... visited you sometimes? ...No, it's cruel of me to even ask, isn't it?" (—Licht to Emma once her stay at the palace comes to an end)

"...He was right. They're really nonsensical. But there's one thing that's clear to me from reading them. ...She really did love us." (—Licht talking about his mother's letters)

"I don't know how to find happiness without you."

"...I've never seen one before. (...) To me, you were like that rainbow, even at the start. Always too beautiful, and too bright. (...) Now... this particular light is something I treasure." (—Licht seeing his first rainbow with Emma)

"Don't use Nokto as bait." (—Licht to Chevalier)

"You're so cute it's criminal."

"Feels weird to be called 'cute'. I'm an adult. And engaged."

"I kept trying to figure out how I could have you all to myself, without them interrupting us. And eventually I had an idea. (...) I realized I just had to build a place that's just for us."

"But so long as I have you, nothing's ever rough."

"That night, I had a dream. The start was the same as the dream I knew so well. A figure lay in the middle of that vivid crimson spectacle, and it should have been my mother. I felt suddenly cold and empty. All my calm vanished, and I ran to her side, but the woman lying in the pool of blood had turned into the woman I loved most. The sound that escaped my lips in that moment was strong enough to tear the whole world apart." (—Licht's thoughts)

[xiaomero]

pairings: scaramouche x reader

genre: angst.

word count: 806.

trigger warning: suicide, arguing / yelling.

art credit: sherisuu on x.

scaramouche wore his mask and placed his camera onto his desk to start the stream. as seconds passed by the chat started to flow with comments saying hi and asking how he was doing.

“hi,” he greeted them and started to read the chat out loud. “-how are you?- i’m good i guess. -are you going dye your hair?- nah, not anytime soon. -what are you going to play today?- i will play something i wrote…i was going to release it officially but i think i won’t….” he answered and watched people going crazy over a new song.

he sat down to the chair and put his notebook in front of him.

he took a deep breath, looked at his band aided fingers for a moment and lined them correctly on the strings.

and started playing and singing.

he was giving all of his heart into his voice. chat was silent for the first time this afternoon because they never saw him like this.

now all the birds have fled, the hurt just leaves me scared.

losing everything i've ever known…

he took a deep breath again.

it's all become too much…maybe I'm not built for love.

the breath stuck in his throat.

if i knew that i could reach you, i would go…

it's in my heart and in my head, you can't take back the things you said.

so high above, i feel it coming down…

she said, "In my heart and in my head, tell me why this has to end?”

oh no, oh no!

it was hard to breathe.

i can’t save us, my atlantis…

we fall, we built this town on shaky ground-!

bang!

the door slammed to wall and his his mom entered the room. she was looking at him with disbelief and anger in her eyes.

“didn’t i tell you to stop playing with such nonsenses and be serious about your life!?” the woman yelled at the boy and tried to get his guitar out of his hands.

“stop it!” scaramouche yelled at her back while trying to keep his guitar. “don’t touch it!” he was getting furious.

“you are just wasting your life with shit like this! i won’t let you turn out like him, okay? do you hear me!?” she said with agony and threw the guitar to the ground.

he watched his guitar, split in two pieces, in silence for a few seconds.

his vision started to get blurry and his head was spinning.

“i…” he whispered. “i hate you.” he got up and grabbed his guitar and the camera and closed it, which ended the stream immediately.

then he ran up to the door and got outside.

it was raining like crazy, but he did not care and started running to you, his only escape from this reality he was stuck in.

he ran, ran and ran until he got to your home. he opened the door and scanned for you. when he saw you were sleeping, he sighed and lied down next to to you.

your bed was wet and dirty. there were flowers all around. he looked at your sleeping figure.

“look what she did to my guitar…” he put the guitar next to you. “if she knew how hard you worked for this secretly every fucking day for months just to gift it to me, would she do the same thing? you know, she used to love you.” he looked at you for an answer but you didn’t say anything as usual.

“i wrote a song. with the music we produced to be a love song…you wouldn’t be angry if it was a little…sad, instead of being a happily-ever-after love song, right?” he waited in silence.

“i didn’t release it tho, i just sang a little…which ended horribly. i didn’t know she was home, she shouldn’t have been home until tomorrow.” he whined a little.

“wanna listen to some music?” he looked at your dead stare. “oh yes, you always loved more when i sing it myself…but i kinda lost my voice because of all the…y’know.“ he said and chuckled a bit.

and then, a single tear fell onto his cheeks.

“i wish…i could hear you.“

he watched you, for hours. without seeing your face.

his clothes were dirty because of the mud.

his hair was soaking wet because of the rain.

he was freezing cold because of your grave stone he was leaning towards.

more hours passed by,

rain has stopped.

sky was clear,

his heart was beating fast.

he got something from his pocket,

and swallowed it with joy.

he closed his eyes,

he fell asleep.

he opened his eyes…

he smiled,

he was with you again.

do not copy / translate or use my work.

[andreafmn]

Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring:  Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any. 

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help. 

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts. 

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job. 

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness. 

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with. 

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.” 

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes. 

That answer had changed her entire existence. 

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay. 

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound. 

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester. 

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of. 

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry. 

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit. 

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night. 

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.” 

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.” 

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.” 

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.” 

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.” 

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.” 

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.” 

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different. 

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.” 

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?” 

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?” 

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.” 

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.” 

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.” 

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.” 

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.” 

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.” 

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do. 

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times. 

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then? 

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign. 

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).” 

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it. 

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before. 

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more. 

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue. 

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.” 

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?” 

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”  

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.” 

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?” 

“I just needed to relieve some stress.” 

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.” 

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?” 

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.” 

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?” 

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.” 

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.” 

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.” 

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted. 

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.” 

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.” 

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?” 

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.” 

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.” 

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?” 

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.” 

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.” 

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right. 

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?” 

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.” 

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).” 

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.” 

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?” 

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.” 

“Show me then.” 

“What?” 

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.” 

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth. 

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.” 

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?” 

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.” 

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body. 

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.  

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm. 

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could. 

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.” 

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.” 

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.” 

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.” 

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit. 

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.” 

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her. 

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers. 

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.” 

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?” 

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.” 

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.” 

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes. 

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.” 

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.” 

“No fighting?” 

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.” 

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.” 

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts  or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

[darkstarofchaos]

Hello! Another person who is incredibly frustrated with redeemed Megatron.

Me and my friends have all voiced the exact same problems and that main being that we don't ever get the before him like at all. Hints here and there but for the most part NO ONE outside of the bad guys has any bad blood towards him.

I understand not every kid show needs to be these deep emotional epics but at the same time it's still weird to me that the Autobots, who have lost countless family and friends thanks specifically to the actions of Megatron and his followers, show no sort of lingering resentment. After all, the amount of time between the war ended and the beginning of the show would be like a few hours for beings that live for millions of years.

Having the Terrans would be a great excuse to have the devil's advocate angle when other Autobots still don't feel comfortable around him. I said the same thing in my own Starscream post too about how sometimes people can't change because those around them refuse to let them.

Megatron should've felt alienated from both sides and by him not falling back into old habits and committing to staying good would've actually proved that his redemption was warranted.

I'm not asking for it to take over the show, but these little background moments. Hell, Bumblebee's attitude would've been a little bit more tolerable if you were it was coming from a place of feeling slighted pissed that the cybertronian who more or less ruined his "childhood" (I've accepted that headcanon that any given Bumblebee is basically a former child soldier) is just walking free side to side with his mentor.

The sad thing is that the first couple episodes kinda show some hints of that? Like when Optimus gives his "Roll out" bit and Megatron tells Dot he's never sure if he means him, or Bumblebee being kinda wary when he tries to call Optimus and gets Megatron (also, Megatron's matter-of-fact recounting of how he kept his soldiers in line). It wasn't enough on its own, but they could have continued the trend to show most bots are wary of him at best, or even implied that the reason some Autobots don't show up much is because they don't want to be around him. It wouldn't have taken many changes to show Megatron as fairly isolated, with maybe one or two relationships that kept him from backsliding into his old ways (his friendship with Dot works better for me because 15 years is a long time for a human, and we know he saved her life at least once).

Honestly, I was ambivalent about his "redemption" in season 1? After Jawbreaker asked him about his altmode and it turned out all he had to do to get Optimus' trust was scan an Earth alt, I pretty much gave up on getting any meaningful backstory for him, so I was resigned to him just being Generic Ex-Decepticon (and then What Dwells Within happened and he finally felt like a Megatron trying to do better to me. Not just in his interactions with Starscream, but when he interacted with Optimus and Croft too: angry, wanting to do things his way, trying to do better but slipping into old habits. If he'd been more like that throughout the show, paired with the Autobots responding appropriately to him, I would have enjoyed his character a lot more).

And then Season 2 happened. And we went the "Starscream is worse than his abuser, actually" route. And now I'm like... This is everything I do not want from a Megatron redemption. The only thing I want from a Megatron redemption is for him to face what he did to the people closest to him. Every single Megatron redemption sees him running off somewhere and leaving the Decepticons to deal with the fallout of his war, and he never has to face the people he personally hurt. And when it comes to Starscream, it's almost treated like a good thing that he hurt him, because when Megatron isn't there to "keep him in check", he's worse than Megatron ever was. And then people roll their eyes and say "Starscream is always power hungry and evil, what do you expect?" while Armada Starscream is right there, and EarthSpark Starscream in Season 1 was a hell of a lot closer to Armada than to Cyberverse.

On his own, EarthSpark Megatron was boring and a waste of potential, but not especially offensive. Paired with Starscream, and specifically Starscream as he appeared in the final episode of the latest batch, he is possibly my least favorite part of EarthSpark right now. Not as a character, but as a concept. I like Megatron, but I have no use for a redeemed Megatron who still has to believe that he's better than Starscream, and be supported in that belief by the narrative. The early scene in S2 when Megatron tells Starscream to let the war end could have been a really good character moment, because we would see that there are still things he doesn't regret, and that he truly sees himself as better than Starscream (who isn't even the one to blame for the war's continuation - I firmly believe that, since the Decepticons were the ones being hunted and locked up, it falls to Megatron and the Autobots to prove that things can be different now. And if the war is continuing, it's almost certainly because Megatron and/or the Autobots fucked up).

But instead we get, "Yeah, Megatron thinks he's a better person than Starscream. And you know what? He's right." I am so done with the abuse apologetics.

[slutsofren]

would you mind writing a little ficlet (or hcs) of the batboys and reader taking care of their newborn?

ever since i read the oneshot where reader goes into labor, i've been going FERAL at the thought of the batboys being loving dads set in the hloc universe🥺🥺

but only if you're comfortable and if you want to!!! you don't have to do this if you don't want to, no hard feelings 💜

OOH THIS IS GOOD

okay so i should start with a blanket message. i, personally, do not have children, i do not know how to raise a child save for a cat who is my pride and joy. i do not wish to have a child in my life. with that being said i will likely get a lot of things (lol everything) wrong in more detailed ways but hey, that's why this is a fantasy fic right lol

as always, details under the cut!! i went for general attitudes towards your pregnancy in the high lady universe but if you want something a wee bit different just shoot on over an ask :> 🤍🌹

**i will not be posting this to ao3 so it is a ✨tumblr exclusive✨

cw: babies, a little bit of violence mentioned but nothing bad :>

Azriel

az was the first one to try and get you pregnant and yes, he was trying multiple times a day for it to take so when the little flutter first happened, he cried. big fat tears.

when the babe was born with dripping black onyx wings az had weeped, they all did

he began to take less spy missions that would keep him away longer than a few hours just to stay home with his child, at least until they would old enough yeah right

it would take him months before he was able to stay a single night away on a mission at which point you had to reassure him with multiple kisses that the two of you would be fine

he cared for you in every single way possible, physically, mentally, emotionally, and would do everything in his power to keep you both happy

you wanted a bath? absolutely, here is your bath but let him take the baby, no it's fine he wanted to hold them :)

there would be nights where the babe would wake and cry and az would jump up and immediately take to them, consoling their cries

you'd watch as az would gently murmur stories from memory, of a high lady who fought to the death for her lovers, stories of you

az always was and always will be the protector of your little family

Cassian

absolute loser of a daddy

he didnt know the first thing of being a dad and he sure as hell did not know how to care for one

all brawn and very little brain for baby 101

he was never sure if he wanted kids when he first met you but seeing you pregnant, seeing his family, he was satisfied with whatever the outcome may be

he once tried to give baby a dagger when they were still a toddler and if you listen closely you could still hear Rhys’ voice shouting “NO” from the mountains of Illyria

for the first few weeks, cass was afraid he was going to drop the baby so he avoided holding them at all costs, leaving it to az and you

it wasnt until you assured him it was going to be fine did he give in, only to immediately start crying when he realized this was his family. he had a family. everything he fought for was for this.

cass was a warrior and he was absolutely going to be the one who trained your babies how to kick ass like him

Rhysand

rhys always was and always will be the most hesitant of the daddies

it took him time to come to terms with your pregnancy only because he lost his first family so violently, he wasn't sure if he was ready for that step but he knew he wanted it with you

rhys was the one who would secretly take the babe under the cover of darkness outside to practice flying as a surprise for you all

knowing the childhood of your other mates, he did everything he could to ensure none of your babies would ever grow up in violence like them or be in want of affection

with that being said, he became much more violent towards members of his court of nightmares.

he was a high lord so he was often not home but he would be damned to let the disease fester and grow under his reign, and he would make sure none of your children would shoulder his burden

to him, rhys did not care if he was biologically the father of any of your babies but he would fight wars for them so they would never have to

[forbidden-creature-snacks]

I keep thinking about last night with my Bunny. It was hot and exciting and freeing. Something clicked that allowed me to do something that I've never been able to do before, due to walls I've had built up against being freely sexual however feels best. Walls which I have been trying to break down for a while now.

I did what I have been practicing. Getting out of my head and into my instincts. I honed in on the feeling of us grinding on each other, honed in on my Bunny's scent, honed in on our breathing getting heavier, feeling everything getting more and more heated.

And then, it clicked. I opened my eyes, and I knew my Bun could see it in them. The crazed starvation and animalistic drive. They looked at me with their big doe eyes and in a soft, pleading voice, whispered "use me".

It was so sudden, so jolting, feeling this Creature in me take full control of my body, even my vision and perception. It was ecstatic. It had never had full control of our body like this before. Just this surrender to the Monster alone was a pleasure I never realized I needed so much.

The woman beneath me was no longer a person, but a thing solely for my pleasure. A small, pathetic, weak, sweet little thing that I could toy with all I wanted. My body did whatever the fuck it wanted to with them. A makeshift gag was shoved into their mouth while I rammed my lower thigh between their legs over and over again, when I wasn't busy rutting against them. My hands scratched and grabbed and pulled. My tongue licked and my teeth bit. I growled and grunted and laughed at how dumb and pathetic they looked.

My leg felt slick from how wet she was. I spit on her, spit in her mouth, and after the noise of pleasure she made from that, I laughed at how disgusting she was for enjoying this so much. A wet fucking mess. With her hands in my boxers, she tried once to make a smart remark about how I was, too.

"Yes, I'm wet, but I'm not pathetic like you. You'll take any part of me that I rub against you, you fucking whore," I jeered, then began to rub my entire leg up and down against her cunt, from the top of my thigh clear down to my foot. It glided so smoothly, so effortlessly from how slick and needy she was. I growled and laughed again at her whines and moans, while her hips moved wildly and frantically against me.

But no matter how lost they got in their own pleasure, mine was top priority. "Use both of your fucking hands," I growled into their ear, tired of them forgetting what their whole purpose was. To pleasure me.

Putty in my hands. Not a single thought behind her dumb eyes. Moans and groans and whines from her every time I fucked her mouth with my tongue, or rubbed part of me against her to keep her dripping and needy.

As pleasure built up in my own body, I grabbed her face and shoved her head to the side and into the pillows. Laughing and growling and grunting as I had been doing. Telling her "just like that, keep going" when she did exactly what I wanted her to. Mocking her for liking it, then praising her for doing it just right.

I'm a squirter. Big time. It's forceful. I knew that, and they knew that. Euphoria flooded through my body, right before the orgasm, as the realization crossed my mind that I could drench them in a way I never could if I had been born with a cock.

I grabbed her hair as I came, drowning her as I spilled all over her stomach, some running down her hips and between her legs. I kept rutting, grunting "take it, take it!" over and over again as I rode the waves of pleasure.

I could imagine it seeping into her skin, into her folds. She was covered in me, and it felt as if I had bred her more effectively than any human ever could. She'd be having my offspring. Little abominations. I was so proud.

But the little whore wasn't done. No, no. Not even close. They wanted more of me, and I wasn't done having fun with them, either.

She was begging for my fingers at this point. She begged so pathetically, so sweetly, I just had to. Three fingers slipped inside of her so easily that a fourth unintentionally followed, like she was trying to swallow my hand whole. I finger fucked her fast and hard, with the same amount of energy and aggression I had been doing everything else with.

She came, squirting everywhere. Her mess, mixing with mine, resulting in us sitting in our own puddle we made together. It felt so fucking good. Both of us releasing so completely. But I wasn't going to let my insatiable whore stop there, oh no.

I lost count of the amount of times she came. She was trembling, whining, crying as I coaxed more out of her. Teasing her sensitive clit until she couldn't help but climb back up for another climax. Me touching her, then watching her own fingers disappear onto herself. Her, begging me to suck on her. Gladly, I devoured her.

I found myself getting hard again. My hands wandered down between my own legs, at my own pleasure, and I drove myself to drench my Bunny once more, laughing at the sight, as they reached to touch themself yet again. Poor, brainless fucktoy. Dumb Fuck Bunny. Little thing can't help but like such depraved things as being drowned in my own flood of pleasure.

At the end, as their eyes rolled back into their head yet again, and their face turned red, then purple. I laughed and said "it seems I finally killed my prey," before I bit down on their throat.

She was a whining, trembling, crying, spasming mess beneath me after it all. Whining like a poor mutt. I felt satisfied, proud at a job well done.

The Creature was satiated. It let me regain more control of our body, although it stayed close to help me provide aftercare to our Little Bun.

It felt so good to let it take control. To let it break through that gentler, more anxious part of me that fears hurting someone, that fears being seen as predatory. To let go and let It run wild, tearing our Toy to shreds. And I'm excited to see It grow.

[that-s-it]

FINALLY, A REAL OPPONENT. Ladies and gentlemen, she is finished. One of the strongest darkners ever made, is here to see how strong Kris REALLY is. Shady, mysterious, and most of all, EDGY. I present to you; Shikari.

She was once the Emperor's favorite hitman. Considered by the whole dark world to be stronger than the emperor himself. She never missed target, she never lost a fight. Yet still, she kept a certain tenderness in her heart for all of the citizens.

One day, a strange man arrived to the dark world. In his paranoia, the Emperor ordered Shikari to get rid of this foreigner. Shikari followed his orders, and immediatly started looking for the man.

When she found him, she instantly tried to kill him. No point in making a conversation. But.. for some reason... She couldn't lift her katana from the ground. Her legs and arms were shaking. She couldn't move. Was this... Fear? But how? She never lost a fight, she never doubted, she was always the STRONGEST one... Wasn't she?. To top it all, the man kept smiling the whole time, as if he was mocking her. After that the man got closer to her and handed her a strange crystal, said it was a gift for trying so hard. Was he making fun of her?

Shikari wasn't gonna take it. Out of rage, she grabbed the crystal and SMASHED it to the ground... A grave mistake. The essence of the crystal enveloped her in darkness, and in it, she saw EVERYTHING. The horrible fat of the world, and the truth of her reality, ALL AT ONCE. She passed out, and the man dissapeared. Was HE looking for HER this whole time?

Eventually, the Emperor's guard found her lying on the ground, and tried to help her. But something was wrong with her. She woke up and attacked everyone on the place, while saying stuff that didn't make sense. Somehow, the emperor managed to capture her. Seeing her in this state, he realize she was a GRAVE DANGER for his entire empire. And so she was exiled to the darkweb, and her katana retrieved from her, with no way of coming back.

In there, she keeps training herself beyond her own limits. She has to be stronger, she NEEDS to be stronger. Or everything she's done... Will be for nothing. Woe to the next prisoner who is sent with HER.

Phew, that was a LONG one, eh?

Anyways, so, have you heard about this girl "Shikari"? She's such a GAL! (Do NOT say that to her in her face, she WILL break yours).

As said in the image, Shikari is inspired in those old EDGY flash/newground games from the 2000's, so yeah, i decided to make a real shady, mysterious, and OVERLY DRAMATIC character for this one.

Her design didn't take that much thought, i decided to give her thos cool white mask eyes and make her look like she is ALWAYS angry, even if she's not. And i tried to give her that "cool stickman" body type, that's why she's tall (also to be more intimidating). Btw she does have two arms, you just can't see the other one the 90% of the time due to dramatic effect.

The name SHIKARI is combination of the word: Shi (Death) and Ikari (Wrath). Very edgy right? And on the nose for people who know japanese, probably.

After getting her SHIFANG back. Shikari finally decides to unleash her full power on you. She didn't need the katana to do that, she just wanted it back. May god have mercy on you, because she won't.

And finally, her battle theme. This might be one of the best ones i've ever done. What do you think?

And that'll be IT! for NOW!!

Now that i have legitimatelly NO other secret bosses ideas, i may finally begin to develop every single of my chapter takes a bit more!! Stay tuned for that, see ya!

[a41-i-finally-caved]

hey, so I wrote this whole ramble thing but deleted it on accident, it's so frustrating omg! Sorry if this is bit incoherent but I'm really trying to regain my train of thoughts here.

First of all, your the best obx writer hands down, and one of the best writers on this website. I've been a fan of your work for months, and I cannot possible describe to you just how MUCH I adore everything you write. I honestly tried to look for flaws but found none, it's perfect. Litterly. I read all your fics atleast 3 times, and 3 times more. Your writing is genuinely so fucking beautiful. Like, holy shit man. Like, evey scene you write I feel like I'm, like, THERE. And evey feeling you describe just hits, I feel it in my damn soul. Personally, your just straight up my favorite writer hands down, like on all fronts. I don't even know how you come up with shit! Every single time a read a chapter um just left, jaw-dropped, staring at the screen in disbelief because, like, fuck. I can't even describe it, I've even tried to analyze your writing style once and I still can't pin this shit down. How do I even say this? You rock?! Idk, man. I'm still speechless.

I know your stepping away from obx as a whole, and I 100% understand that. Same thing is happening to me. Season 4 just killed my spirit so fucking hard, like crushed it, stepped on it, then spat on it. So I totally understand you just wanting a breather because god it's so fucking frustrating. Me, after I finished season 4 spent a whole week dejected, feeling like I've actually lost someone close to me, when their not even real!

Jj's genuinely such a beautiful, deep, complex character, and what happened to him only can be described as pure utter shit. Words can't describe the disappoinment I feel. So, yeah, just wanted to say you really are valid with that. And I read your post talking about season 4 and I felt so fucking validated, felt like I wanted to scream. Just, every. Single. Word. You said.

But, I'm curious to ask, (and you totally don't have to answer this), if your thinking about working on thoes fic ideas you have pinned. You really don't have too, I've just read the tiltles and their so fucking interesting.

outer banks also inspired me to write, I used to hand write the script back in 2021 and try to like, expand on it. I was that obsessed, but I realized I can't write for shit. But jj inspired me, like, for a different character, an original character, thats kinda like a jj in a different font, in a different part of the world, with different friends. Like a novel, I guess? Jj's just such an interesting character and I feel like there's so much potential there for different shit, (I'm also very attached to jj and I can't let him go, lol. So I'm holding on to him anyway I can.) I have so many fucking ideas but have to idea where to start. Like, how do you even start a novel, y'know? How do you make the relationships convincing, realistic, and complex? How can I like pit all these chapter with all these momments, and details, and have them add up. And I read in Another comment that your also working on a novel, so do you have any tips? Maybe? It's totally fine if you don't I'm just really lost here. And since your my favorite writer ever, I thought I'd get my advice from the best.

Sorry for the rambling, and if I repeated myself. All I can say is that your truly a a fucking awesome, talented, human being. I; random person on the internet, hope and wish you the very best, or whatever people say. Just thanks for all your work on that website, truly.

Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting on this, I've had some personal stuff going on that had me down for the count.

I can't even tell you how happy it makes me to hear how much you've enjoyed my stories! This whole writing thing started as something to do while bed-bound and I think it really grew into something wonderful :) So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your kind words... they mean the world <3

Season 4 pretty much killed my interest in the show... and I know I'm not the only one there. (I'm glad my post gave you some validation!) As for the fics... it kind of depends? I'm definitely finishing WTK and I have at least one post-WTK one shot ready to publish when I do. I'd like to continue with Founding--that ties into S4 a lot, and I feel like I have some unprocessed thoughts/emotions there lol The Topper and JJ friendship fic will probably never see the light, it's too tied into what I liked about the show originally. The supernatural one will probably come out in sporadic one shots. I still love my Peterkin takes in the boys idea, so that'll probably be a I wrote this in a blur last weekend kind of a thing lol I also have bits of a S4 fix it rattling around my head (and in MS Word) But basically, how much I write depends on if I can get my excitement for the characters back up divorced from my anger at the show.

In terms of your writing though! Congrats!! Starting a new project is always amazing and exciting and a little overwhelming too :) The best advice I can give is probably two things:

1) Play. A lot of times when I write, the first thing I put down won't work. Keep messing with it until it feels right. Sometimes that means going with the 'just get words on the page method', sometimes it means taking your time to work a sentence over until it launches you in the correct direction. Either way, don't be afraid of your backspace key.

At first, deleting out a sentence can feel like the worst waste of words in the world, but as your skills get better, there's a relief to cutting the parts that don't serve you as an author. Remember, words are cheap and you can always make more of them :)

2) Causality. You asked how to make relationships convincing, realistic, and complex and how to ensure your entire story adds up. Causality is the answer.

Most concepts only have meaning in their relation to something else. Characters, plot, they all build the same way. This happens because of that which causes XYZ. If you find you have a major element that doesn't connect with the pieces around it, cut or rework. Play around until you find something that does lock in, something that shoves your story forward without any effort.

A concrete example to get us out of abstract-land: 'A kid goes on a treasure hunt' doesn't mean anything.

'A kid goes on a treasure hunt because he's tied finding the treasure with finding his missing father' is better.

'A kid goes on a treasure hunt because he's tied finding the treasure with finding his missing father which drives him to act increasingly reckless and to inadvertently repeat the same mistakes that caused both his father's disappearance and their strained relationship?'

Now you're cooking.

The same concept works for plot. Take any well written movie or episode and you can track the because of-s and which-s tying it together. A Knight's Tale is really good at this technique with both plot and character while staying self contained and simple, so something like that might be a good place to start :)

I definitely have more thoughts on this/writing in general, but this answer's already getting super long lmao So no apologies ever needed for rambling! I (clearly!) do it too :) Thanks so much for the ask and for your patience! Best of luck with your writing, I hope you have a blast <3

[jiniwae]

message to her

I have seen this many times with single moms. They sacrifice everything for the child, and at the end expect the child to do the same. They live with guilt toward their moms and if they get married they end up divorcing and going back to live with their mothers, and maybe become single parents themselves perpetuating the cycle. Parents have to learn that more than protecting parenting is about giving your child wings.

Mothers must know that their son must have their own life to live no matter what.

There are a lot of things that you don't see. A lot of times these parents are purposefully sabotaging their kids. My father tried to sabotage all aspects of my life, my personal life, my development as a human, even my financial independence, so that I wouldn't ever leave him. It took me to my late 20s to completely untaggle myself from him and, by that point, it was too late for my personal life, as you need another bunch of years to heal from the trauma and be able to trust people again.

sorry to hear it. still, my point stands: a man/a person needs to take responsibility for himself in adulthood. no one said "be magically fine by 21". the point is to recognize that it's his job to get away from the poison and grow. a 40 year old man has no excuse. he needs to be independent by then. not being so is his own fault, generally speaking.

I feel like not enough people are talking about the scene where the mother pretended to be dead. The son finally stands up for himself and tries to break it off, and the mother manipulated him into feeling bad for wanting to be independent. That’s gonna haunt me for a while-

I cried out so hard because this story completely represents the story of my life. Every second of it, the mother being manipulative acting like she was dying (yep my mom) and sadly that’s a type of psychological violence.

My biggest fear is that I'll become a narcissistic mother... No words. I've lost so many friends and my very first boyfriend figure over jealousy when my so-called childhood friend manipulated me into believing my boyfriend is cheating on me, it turns out it wasn't true at all. He left me for good.

For Jack Rose I feel bad for him too. His mom had him locked up away from reality and social life. He never hard friends, sexual experiences, girl friend and it seems that he never we t to college or worked

he couldnt even live his own life the way he wanted because of how controlled, manipulated and gaslighted he were and she always kept him attached to herself. its heartbreaking that some mothers do this to their own kids for their own benefit, not even thinking about their kids or their future, how their kids would live if they werent in their life anymore.

Mothers need to learn a lesson from this, and that is when a child gets a certain age, It's time to let go and let that son, or daughter grow up. You can not keep mothering your children forever. I myself have this same problem as well. I live with my mother and brother, and I am 38 year old, and it sucks. I for one would like to be on my own. I for one am 38 yr old and felt that I have missed out on a lot. Lucky for me I have a job and trying my best to save money.

[chuuyaposting]

I think about everyone and everything for the rest of my life, and it's impossible for me to stop caring about people. Do we exist if no one thinks about us anymore? Have you thought of that? The holiday's are usually hard, but even my siblings don't bother to keep in touch unless my dad tells them to. I am not needed and I get discarded by everyone. If I had died last week, so many people that I care about wouldn't even bat an eye to my absence. Isn't that funny? No one bothers to reply to my texts anymore. I've moved far away from everything that I've ever known, and most of my online friends don't bother replying to my messages anymore at all. Every New Year's I grieve, life is like a funeral to me for both the living and the dead, and no one really stays in my life one way or another. I am so tired. I can't write out the entire long ass post I tried to write out earlier. Maybe its for the best. I just... i try to reach out, I try to initiate conversation, I try to ask people how they're doing and stuff because I genuinely want to know. But I feel like I'm not meant to be here maybe. I am a temporary person in everyone's life it feels like at times. I cry about it so much more than i ever talk about. I feel so lost and I don't know what to do. None of my family reached out to wish me a Merry Christmas, not a single one. I don't matter anymore. Isn't that funny? I love and care so much, and it doesn't really mean anything in the end. I think about many people and I think about them every day. Friends and family. And i feel like a ghost. That the ways i try to show that I care mean nothing, my effort means nothing, my presence means nothing, and my absence phases no one. I could have died and their lives would have continued like I never even existed in the first place. Every New Year's eve I think about the same thing, who is gonna be here this time next year? How many will leave? What if they don't survive through the year? I cry about it. I grieve. I love, I care, I fear, I grieve. And I am so fucking tired. I can count on one hand the people i have regular contact with and still have fingers left :) I have no family or friends in this city, in this state, and I dont have many in my life to begin with. I am so tired. I dont want to cry anymore my headache gets worse and worse. Being vulnerable makes me feel terrified to the point where I feel so genuinely sick.

[psychic-bonbon]

How I Broke Free From Him.

We weren't even in a relationship. And yet, somehow, he got into my head, my heart, my spirit and my home. I thought I could handle it-I've survived worse, right? this time I wasn't just trying to survive him; I was trying to survive the version of me he brought out. He never landed a single punch. And yet, I was always bruised. Bruises on my body weren't enough. I was bruised by his words, his manipulation, the way he twisted everything I shared with him into weapons. I thought I was safe with him-he made me believe I could be. But what he offered wasn't safety. It was a trap disguised as comfort.

He took everything I ever told him under the pretense of "understanding me," and when it suited him, he turned those pieces of me into a sword. Every confession, every moment of hurt I'd shared in vulnerability, became a blade he welded against me. And if the words weren't enough, there was the gripping, the pushing- just enough to knock me off balance, but never enough to leave evidence he couldn't explain away

The Backslides

There were so many nights I thought I was done. I would tell myself, "This time, I'm leaving for good," and for a while, Id believe it. But then he'd come back with those same soft words:

"I'm sorry. I lost control. You make me feel things no one else does"

or worse, "You know I'm only like this because I care so much about you."

And I'd fall for it. Every. Single. Time.

But falling back wasn't just about believing him- it was about doubting myself. He had me convinced I was overreacting, that I was too sensitive, to broken to understand what "real love" looked like. How could I, I didn't grow up with love in my childhood, no one ever showed me. And so.. I'd stay or come back.

Why I stayed so long

I stayed because a part of me thought he was right. I'd grown up around worse pain and abuse; it felt familiar, almost normal

I told myself "At least he doesn't hit me."

I told myself "For someone like me this is as good as it gets."

I told myself "you've been through worse- this isn't that bad."

But the truth? Words can hit harder than fists. Manipulation can cut deeper than punches. And bruises- weather they come from his hands or his "love"- still hurt the same.

The Breaking Point

t wasn't just one moment that shattered the cycle. It was the slow, suffocating buildup of tiny realizations that chipped away at the lie I'd been living. He wasn't the kind to take any accountability. He was the type to pin all his chaos on everyone else, To me. To him, it was always my fault. My fault for standing up for myself. My fault for calling out the lies and the BS. My fault for being blunt, straight forward or trying to set boundaries. 

He made me believe that my attempts to match his energy, to hold up a mirror to his actions, were the problem- even long after I'd stopped doing it. 

The night I decided I'd had enough was when he went too far- when he put his arm around me and strangled me. 

It started like  so many other arguments, spiraling out of nothing into something chaotic and overwhelming. Like usual, I tried to walk away, to take a step back so we could both cool off and come back to it later. But that wasn't acceptable to him. In his eyes, my leaving wasn't about keeping the peace- It was an offence, a declaration that I didn't care about him or our so called "relationship" 

When I tried to leave he blocked my way. "Not this time, You don't get to walk away" he said "You never want to talk and work it out." Then he shoved me back, refusing to get out of the way and let me go. I tried to dash for it, and he pushed me back so hard I fell against the lawn mower in the Garage. 

I got up and tried to stay calm and went for the door one more time. And in a blur, his arm was around my neck in a chokehold so tight I could feel the hatred radiating off him. I don't know how long he held me like that- it felt like ages. I nearly blacked out, but he didn't let me fall and when he finally let me go I could barely breathe. I could barely speak. 

And even then he tried to make me belive  it was my fault. I didn't even realize I had bitten a chunk of his bicep until after, but to him that was the focus. I was the worst for biting him. I had pushed him to that point. 

i composed myself as best as I could for what seemed like too long and withiut saying a word I walked out and finally he didn't try to physically stop me. As I walked home he was yelling but I couldn't focus on what he was saying in the midst of  realizing I had two options. stay and meet the grim... or introduce him to the reaper.  fight or flight me is another creature herself. 

In the weeks that followed as I struggled to get my voice back I realized the truth: I was in danger. It was never my fault. No matter how he tried to twist things, his actions were his own. And no amount of love or patience on my part could ever change him.

How I finally Broke free

Leaving wasn't about finding strength- I'd always had that. It was about claiming my worth for once.

I stopped justifying; I stopped telling myself his hurt came from love. Love doesn't bruise. Love doesn't cut.

I toughed it out until I could save and safely uproot and move to a whole new state. 3 months after the strangling I finally left. even though I almost stayed.

I rebuilt my armor: I took everything he used against me- My past pain, my insecurities and turned them into strength. what once cut me now fuels me.

Reflection:

He used everything I ever gave him to destroy me. But what he didn't realize was that he couldn't take all of me. He couldn't break the part of me that refused to give up, the part of me that will always choose to fight back.

If you're in a situation like this, Know this: You are not to blame, you are not crazy, you are not unlovable. Your pain is not their weapon to wield. And you deserve a love that doesn't hurt.

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

Ok so I was gonna go more in-depth about the timeline and try to figure some things out, but I got a little sidetracked and time got away from me so I might continue this later but for now I need to go to bed. Please enjoy this infodump about the apocalypse in Moth Wizard (my post-apocalyptic fantasy setting) and the origin of magic.

(Content warning: war, religion, death, extinction)

When exactly canon diverges from our timeline is not determined yet since I've currently placed the apocalypse really taking off "sometime in the near future" and I don't know how much of the bad stuff may or may not happen in real life. We live in scary times. Ideally I'd keep it "in the near future" for a while though, like I don't know when (if ever) I'll actually Make The Show, but I'd like for it to still be in the future when I do. It would make the "this could happen to our world" part of the "this could happen to our world and while you individually cannot save us from it, it is entirely in the hands of humans to stop it and turn things around before then" message of the apocalypse, y'know, still apply.

As I mentioned recently in a very excited tag ramble, the apocalypse has several components. I think the main ones are war, climate change, and similar corporate greed consequences like pollution, unsustainable hunting, and destruction of habitats. All of it is human in origin. This is important to me, because if it weren't humans, then it would be Hashem (G-d), and He promised never to do that again after Noah and his family survived the flood. What Hashem did was give humanity the magic that allowed them to survive (and which now fills their world with wizards).

I like to think of this as kind of an inverse of the story of Noah. Hashem did not raise the tides, it was man, and man did not create the means by which life was able to live on, it was Hashem. Are we even now? Probably not, I wouldn't claim to know whether "being even" is even an applicable concept, but I do think that this event thousands of years later changed something forever. A circle has been closed. Life on Earth will never be the same.

I'll uh, definitely consult a rabbi about this at some point though, because I'm mostly making stuff up that sounds right and fits what I have in mind for their world. I'd like to make sure it's at least not actively contradicting anything.

Anyway, so we have the nearish future timeline deviation, I hope, where everything gets worse, billions of people die in world war III and countless species go extinct. Every single country on the planet is either at war or caught in the crossfire. If not for the gift of magic, it would have been the END end of life. How long after this does the story take place? I haven't decided. It's hard to put an accurate number to things.

Let's say hypothetically, magic is introduced in the year 5800, nice round number in the nearish future (a bit over 15 years).

As I've mentioned before, the first people to discover magic were kids probably aged 12-17, because of how the magic system works. To use magic, you need to try and truly believe in it, recklessly, and I don't think anyone is better at recklessly believing in undiscovered magic than teens, speaking as a former teen myself. Too young and the line between make-believe and reality won't be the right shape, too old and they'll have lost faith in undiscovered mysteries. Teens inhabit the sweet spot where the world seems just strange enough that maybe if you really really tried, you could fly.

And suddenly one day, the teens were right.

Sidenote but what I really love about this part of the magic system is that it comes with built-in explanations for why small children are not blowing up cars on accident (it has to be fully intentional and separate from playing pretend), and why not everyone uses it enough to call themselves a wizard (it's hard to believe recklessly and intentionally enough), AND gives good excuse for why anyone desperate enough could do it in a burst of emotion (recklessness is easy if you have nothing left to lose, the exact boundaries of possibility don't seem so important anymore). It's great.

It takes a while for people to believe the kids who discover magic. Obviously this footage going viral on TikTok is faked, and now there's a whole trend about pretending magic is real. And anyone who tries while under the impression that it's fake will of course fail, they don't believe at all. But the news don't have to spread via social media, it's much easier to show people in person. And do you believe it when you see a flying car on the news? You thought this was a reliable source, why would they buy into this obviously fake nonsense? And then you meet your 11-year-old cousin who claims she can make animals talk. You don't believe her, of course, until she points to a squirrel and the squirrel addresses you by name. The world is already in chaos, and now this?

Within a year, I think, it is generally understood that magic does exist. The exact mechanics are still unclear and everyone has their own interpretation, but the fact that some people are genuinely able to do things that until a year ago were definitely impossible is hard to deny now.

Somehow, magic seems to favor saving lives over taking them. This is not actually because magic itself has morals, but because it favors vulnerability and cannot be controlled the way guns can be controlled. Governments try and inevitably fail to create magical armies. You simply can't command someone to use magic. They would need to raise such soldiers from children surrounded by cultish propaganda in order to control their faith to such an extent, which of course they do to all their citizens, that's how they ever got anyone to kill another human on command, but they didn't have the foresight to include "you will be a wizard" in their programming starting 10 years ago. And now they won't get the chance. Their time is about to come to an end.

Oceans rise. Nations fall. The world we know dies screaming.

[cloudy-with-a-chance-of-chaos]

The Baldurian Journal

Written based on my playthroughs in Baldur's Gate 3 - lemme make myself known as a sort of vanilla player Feel free to ask me about it on my askbox or on the comment section. ⚠️ Long read ⚠️

"I don't know what day is today. Actually I've been on the road for quite a while now and didn't manage to keep track of everything. It's part of the reason I'm writing it down now; not to be a Doomsday messenger, but if it comes to transforming, I think I should leave something behind, to at least show I didn't cave in easily. I also don't know if my trouble remembering things is due to the worm inside my head or just the general falling, crashing, fighting sequelae. Who knows? Had trouble figuring out how to write too. And for some reason, maybe a lapse of insanity, I figured I'd ask the elf for advice. Suffice to say he rolled his eyes, spit out "From the beginning. Where else?", and left me talking alone, wandering to God knows where he goes at night... I don't like this guy. I mean... I'm not fond of him. I can see his appeal — the red piercing eyes everytime he looks at me and, honestly, he's a good talker, and I do not take (much) pride in sharing some points of view with him. But he's so completely and overbearingly annoying. So extremely obnoxious. A girl cannot consider saving a child at peace, it always makes him moody. If he's so bothered why join? Everyone else seems on board with how I've been managing things in order to SURVIVE, but Mr. Magistrate rolls his eyes and barks at me. Well sir, bite me. The past few days have been absolute pandemonium. And as my darling "friend" suggested, I'll start from the beginning. My name is Alyah. I was on the shipwreck days ago. Me and the githyanki Lae'zel rescued this mysterious cleric named Shadowheart before bringing the ship down. People have mentioned it "fell" but I know well enough I crashed it. When I woke up at the beach, the githyanki had vanished; I don't know if she's survived. Astarion was the first one I found, by chance, looking around the debris to figure what the hell happened. And as charming as he is, got me in a headlock with a dagger to my face. To be honest I was quite surprised to be taken down by this frail looking elf; pale, thin and with eyes rather deep in his skull as if he hasn't eaten in days. He has some strength to him, I'll give him that, but it only took me longer to get rid of his paws because of the element of surprise. He said he was on the ship. He saw me there... And once I managed to get away from his dagger he looked... Scared. This was the last time I had a heart-fluttering sympathy for him. Ever since he started following me around like a lost puppy, he's bullied every single person I've talked to. Shadowheart was not amused to have him make fun of her name. Neither was Gale, Gale of Waterdeep, when the local red-eyed pet put his wizarding credentials at stake. Though I kind of agree with Astarion, getting stuck on his own portal was NOT a very crediting move. And as I feared, Gale as also on the ship. And is also stuck with a tadpole in his brains. Although he sounds, looks and behaves way too chirper to someone on the death row...

•••

We tried walking around the forest to explore and look for more survivors, but none in sight. To be honest we stranded so much from the ship I don't think either of us has any idea of how to go back — subconsciously, I think we're all trying to get away as far as possible from those things, even if there's one of them inside each of us.

– Stop. – Astarion grabbed my arm – Listen.

– And what should we be listening to? – Shadowheart mumbled and got the ugliest frown from him.

Elf versus half-elf. I suppose he has better hearing.

His hand pulled me, and the whole group, to the back of a rock to listen. People yelling. Someone asking to open the gate. I found myself staring at the three of them hiding with me and realized I was just a foot in front of the group. Astarion nodded to me.

– Go ahead. – he whispered.

Of course. It's not him who's gonna get killed on day one.

It took me a step. Just a step a bit to the side to try and see what was going on and suddenly all of the Nine Hells broke loose.

Goblins.

A couple of them right behind us, forcing us into battle.

If I recall correctly, Gale electrocuted two of them. I might be wrong. Astarion and Shadowheart had an unbelievable teamwork, given that they act with nothing but despise for each other.

And me. I finally had my hands on my axe after what seemed too long.

Though we were caught by surprise, I thought it was a refreshing battle. A good one. No losses, no harm done (to me and my own), but a nice way to put my body at work again.

The gate that person (I still don't know and actually don't care for whom it was) was asking to be opened, opened. They were wearing the same uniforms as the guards up on the watching.

– Easy to open now, that their own people is mutilated. – I grumbled, avoiding slipping on the fresh blood on the grass and I can swear I heard someone chuckle behind me. I would bet on Astarion, because he had a smirk on that face when I looked behind, but so did Gale.

Maybe I'm funny.

– Should we go inside? – Shadowheart asked, dusting her clothes.

– I don't see why not. – Gale stopped by my side – Hopefully there'll be a nice resting spot for us if they're willing to take in some disheveled travelers like ourselves.

– What if they don't, dear?

– You've seen how quick she runs, we'll be out there in no time. – I could see Gale smiling and Astarion frowning again.

– Or maybe we'll get our hands dirty again... – I said, expecting a reaction. Gale didn't give me one. Shadowheart looked rather annoyed. But Astarion spinned his dagger on his fingers and gestured at me with it.

– Well, if worse comes to worse, at least blood looks good on you, darling.

It sounded enticing, but looked menacing. I wasn't his darling, not if I dragged him into another meaningless fight.

Pity.

I like meaningless fights.

– Well... – I pulled my axe and pointed at him; this is a temporary alliance and it will come the day him and I will end up at each other's throats. But for now... – On you too. Now let's go inside.

[kitty-mactabbysh]

One More Day to Regret

Oh well I don't have much of an idea of what I'm doing. But I had this prompt a while and decided to get this over with.

Word Count: 527 ♡

Wish I could be doing more, but...

Autumn is nearly upon us, so enjoy the boys spending some quality time together and some good one-side angst.

Cancelled compassion, this our ignorance

Not everlasting much, less eminent

Stay time heals everything

One more day to regret

One more day to regret

°•♡~

As the wind billowed the scarlet and orange leaves throughout the streets of London, a seemingly happy pair of figures sat by a bench on the square. Both of them wore comfortable, warm clothes, and were remembering something funny, sharing a laugh from memories that would never return.

"I don't think I've ever seen a man so terrified in all my life!" Soap said to a chuckling Ghost. "He just took a good look at you and ran! No shots fired!”

"I seem to have that effect on people." The blonde replied, mask up, taking a sip from their pumpkin-based hot drink. He had no idea of what it was, and neither did Soap, but the Scot insisted they tried it, so there they were. It wasn't bad. It was creamy, and had cinnamon added to it.

It helped that, with the Sergeant's presence, everything else seemed to taste better.

"Come on, Simon.” Soap said with a raising eyebrow. “It's not really like you terrify every single person you meet."

The meaning was simple, and it was also very clear to both: ‘you do not scare me’, but Ghost glossed it over on purpose.

Of course Johnny wasn't afraid. He was one of the stupidest, bravest men Simon had ever known. Always had something to say, no matter the situation, words which never failed to bring Lieutenant Ghost an untold amount of joy he'd been trying hard to get rid of.

Because Johnny deserved better.

Better than him.

“Well, it's true, actually.” He laughed it off like he always did. “There are some people crazy enough to stick around.”

“Yeah, like who?”

“Like Captain Price.”

There was silence, because Soap recognized the truth in his friend's words despite it being a clear attempt at changing the course of the conversation.

“He always comes through for us.” Was the shorter man's contribution to the thought, sipping from his drink.

Ghost smiled.

“Yeah, he does. Which is why I always try my best to keep you all safe.”

A soft sigh, and the blonde felt the warmth of Soap's shoulder pressing against his own.

“Don't act like you need to repay for every single good thing that happens to you, Si.” He stated, his voice almost tender, the accent showing through with ease. “It is good to be grateful, but you deserve these things you get.”

He did not expect the other man to reply, and he was right. The words completely broke Simon, any comeback he might have had ready if the comment was a completely different thing than what he heard… he lost. He was speechless, and the only things his mind could register were the gratitude for Soap being in his life… and the sweet presence of the Scotsman by his side.

The wind continued to blow on the streets, and the war they fought was still far from over.

But that secret war in his heart, the one very few people ever had access to, was very nearly lost to John ‘Soap' MacTavish.