#Ok but what if youre the only one working

[quicksilversnails]

It's so fun how the Princess and the Dragon acknowledges and plays with game mechanics that are assumed to be non-diegetic, and uses them to add insight to the story/characters.

The title card is a really obvious example, being something that TLQ actually sees and can comment on, and something that the Princess hadn't ever seen. What most would assume is just a framing device for the player is a real element of the world/construct.

I think it emphasizes how the story that the Narrator constructed is only "meant" to be told to TLQ. After all, The Narrator only appears in TLQ's mind, providing elaborate descriptions and attempting to contextualize the events of the game as a heroic task to save the world. Meanwhile the Princess is all alone, with no title cards or exposition, no context for why any of this is happening to her. The story revolves around her, but it doesn't care about her beyond her designated role, as something to be slain and hated. Her perspective is irrelevant to the Narrator's plan, so she doesn't get the fancy presentation or necessary context: she doesn't deserve it.

There's also those long stretches of dialogue where the voices talk to each other in TLQ's mind without progressing the story. They're occasionally acknowledged by the Princess elsewhere (Prisoner, Nightmare) but P&tD makes it very explicit and confirms that time is actively passing during these conversations, with TLQ staring in silence for who knows how long.

(Personally I don't think all of the voice dialogue is necessarily in real time, if only because some Princesses wouldn't have had the patience for it. Like if you had really stood still for that long, the Beast would've definitely eaten you... she's not waiting for you to finish thinking lol)

This one I think is more for humour, but it also draws attention to how much of the inner conversation the Princess is missing in normal chapters, when the voices aren't actively speaking to her through TLQ's body. Where we're having vibrant debates or key information revealed by the Narrator, she just sees a silent, staring figure. Speaking of the Narrator, He's completely absent from the Princess' POV, either because He doesn't want to speak to her or is somehow unable to (He does say in Tower that she's not supposed to be able to interact with Him...) Again, the story was not made to be told to her, so she isn't given His context, and because the player is usually so immersed in TLQ's perspective, they probably wouldn't realize just how much she's missing until they see things from her perspective.

One other example: if you choose to [Say nothing] immediately after you excise yourself, the Princess reacts to it:

I just find this so hilarious tbh, and the fact that she repeats back those exact words implies that she literally senses the text written in brackets. If you do it once you're back in the basement, she says this:

I wonder if it's the same for the Narrator/voices... do they also “feel” your actions while you’re choosing them? Do they hear you say (Lie) before you lie? When Skeptic said "Wink" out loud did he actually choose a dialogue option with [Wink] in brackets?? Ok that last one's a joke but there's lots of potential here

I just think it's cool because the average player wouldn't think twice about any of these things, because they seem like simple stylistic/game design choices. In a game where all player input is through dialogue options, the square brackets are an immediately understandable way to convey action, as opposed to plain text. In a game structured around repeating loops, it makes sense to make those loops distinguishable for players by separating each loop with a title card, and the chapter naming convention works as a nod to the fairytale storybook aesthetics the game draws from.

But by placing you into the Princess's head and acknowledging those design choices as diegetic elements that change depending on your perspective, it forces you to reevaluate your experiences: the things you didn't think were really "part of the game" and the experiences you didn't realize weren't universal. It exposes your hidden privileges, the luxuries and structural supports you have compared to the Princess that you don't even notice because you've never experienced the alternative.

It might make you realize how the way you perceive and conceptualize the world might be very different from how others conceptualize it (Tony's recent ask about the multicoloured glass in HEA could also play into this in a fascinating way, with the mismatch in perception between TLQ and the Narrator's script). It's all just very cool for a game that's based on perception.

It also makes me wonder... what other elements of this game are diegetic that we just haven't paid attention to?

Well, I think that the captions are probably also diegetic. TLQ occasionally refers to the voices by their complete titles despite them not ever referring to each other by those titles, instead opting for descriptors like "jumpy one" or "the worst one" or "rage boy" or "chilly little freak" lol. For a direct comparison, Paranoid exclusively calls Smitten "the lovesick one" or some variant in HEA, but TLQ refers to him by his full name using quotation marks, as if he's quoting something he's read:

The voices don't seem aware that these titles exist, while TLQ does, despite them sharing a mind. Also, when the Princess shares a body/mind with you, she never uses their titles either. In the Spectre/Princess and the Dragon, she calls Hero "the nice one", Cold "the quiet one" or "cold little freak", and the Narrator "the bossy one" or "that murder-happy know-it-all". Spectre describes the voices as shards of broken glass on the floor, so she likely perceives them completely differently to how we/TLQ see them.

Even The Narrator isn't aware of His title. If you call Him that in the mirror conversation, He says "'The Narrator'. I suppose that's my job, isn't it?", reacting to the title as if it's His first time hearing about it. There's also this question from the fourth Shifty encounter:

It seems like the titles are presented specifically for The Long Quiet/decider, and that they somehow reflect how TLQ perceives the voices/Narrator, since TLQ takes credit for "calling him" that. If the captions were specifically shown to TLQ in the same way that the title cards are, it'd explain how he has this information without it ever being verbally told to him, and why the Princess doesn't know their titles even when she's sharing your body.

But besides the captions, I think it could be fun to interpret the game as if most, if not all of its game mechanics exist in-universe. The choice menu, the music, the cursors, the save/load icons, saving/loading in general, the title screen, the Clown Princess living in the walls (game files), you name it. Let’s peel away these game mechanics cell by cell! Let's see what meaning we can find together, let's see what we're made of!

[softness-and-shattering-art]

If thats how you feel, definitely engage less. The point of being informed is being able to act, and if youre too overwhelmed to think or act, all youre achieving is terrified paralysis. Terrified paralysis is helpful when hiding from a predator, not for dealing with modern life, so lets take that option off the list of reasonable possibilities, ok?

Perhaps narrow down your information to things directly relevant to you. If you cant help anyway, lets not add to the terrified paralysis side of the scale. If you cannot influence something, it is still terrible, but it isnt your problem. Leave that to the people who can act on it.

You can also limit your "keeping up to date". Doomscrolling is not keeping up to date. Refreshing the news every fifteen minutes isnt keeping up to date. Give yourself naybe 15 minutes a day to look at reputable news sources, and when youre done youre done. Do not make those 15 minutes first thing in the morning or last thing at night.

Remember, FEELING BAD ISNT ACTIVISM. Torturing yourself does not improve anything or save anyone. It is ok if you only save one person per day, and it is ok if the one person you save is yourself.

It is noble and good to want to help. You CANNOT pour from an empty cup. You MUST nourish yourself and your cup so that you are pouring within your limits and you are generating as much as possible to pour with. The way to do this is resting.

This isnt a 4+ year sprint. Improving the world is a lifelong marathon. Its a tag team race, its a choir. Sometimes it is your turn to run and sing, sometimes it is your turn to rest and catch your breath.

You have to keep up maintenance on yourself. You have to rest and hang out and do enjoyable things and limit contact with people and organisations working to make you terrified and feel extreme urgency about everything, because that is a deliberate tactic to make you easier to manipulate. Resist by resting and recuperating in every way you can, and then by helping however you can, and then resting until youve recharged by going back out there.

Some things ARE really urgent, most things are not. There was a panic the other day about a bill that was announced and not even written yet.

If it helps, the best way to be able to think clearly and deduce how important/urgent something really is, and what the best course of action is, is to be calm and well rested. If you want to be your most effective self, rest.

You help no one when locked into fear, you help no one when you ignore your limits and burn out. Protect your limits and nurture yourself so that you can help yourself and others most effectively. Disengage with what is designed to make you ineffective and manipulable. If you feel like the decision is too difficult, disengage further and just focus on whats relevant to you.

[sidneywasfound]

DOLCE | Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader x Lando Norris

SUMMARY; Franco cheated on her. Regretful, he looks for her. She is making a new life, taking revenge for Franco's actions,Knowing exactly how to get on his nerve, and he didn't know with who she would begin this new facet of her life.

WARNINGS; ANGST with a Fluffy ending!, Franco being a dick,Franco cheating,Crying,suggestive themes,talks and mentions of sex but not actual smut,Bad English writing English is not My first lenguage,Song quotes with original lyrics and translation. a little bit of SMAU, not My Best work so be kind

WORD COUNT; 1.6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE; Firstt i wanted to thank you all for your support!! Seriously i love you all ♡ and second, This fic is inspired on DOLCE by Cazzu i've been listening to this song in loop all the day so yeah

Now playing...DOLCE by Cazzu

You remember it as if it were the first time,That warm kiss that Franco gave you every time you arrived,Only this time you were leaving."Speak up and pray if whatever you are about to say is a damn excuse." You said picking up your bag from the floor facing the open the door."i'm sorry...I was drunk and I didn't tell you because-" You shut the door right on his face and with tears in your eyes you walked towards your car.

He didn't even tell you, it happened three months ago, and he didn't tell you?. You opened your phone seeing the photo of him kissing that girl, that girl who said she was just a friend, you even liked her posts and she liked yours.

3 months later...

"I'm better than ever" You said looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, on the counter there was some nail polish and makeup.You sighed and went to your closet,Searching through your dresses you saw a dark red silk fabric highlighting between them, you slowly pulled it out but when you saw the whole piece you quickly threw it back into the closet,a knot formed in your throat and tears didn't wait to fall

"This damn dress..." You didn't even know if that phrase would help you feel better,Franco said it that same night, where he took you to his hotel room and delicately undressed you while repeating that pharse.'This damn dress...'

Your breathing was fast, you quickly grabbed your black tube dress and closed the closet

You went out in that dress, you were going to a club for your friend's birthday so nothing too exagerated. Sitting at the bar you watched your still cocktail on the table,The music made the liquid vibrate a little 'why do i bother in trying?' You said to yourself. You got up and when you turned around you crashed into someone."s-shit... i'm sorry i didn't-" When you look up you saw no one else but Lando Norris himself, how embarrasing you tought, In addition to being hurt by your breakup, you just crashed into Lando

"oh no. Shit how embarrasing!" You covered your face slightly as he laughed. "Don't worry, it was my mistake." You already knew each other, Franco introduced you two,sometimes you greeted each other in the paddock, is Nice to see him for the last time

"Are You ok...?" He said putting his hand on your shoulder, your breathing was laborated and your eyes crystallized."yes shit...I just need some fresh air" He quickly grabbed your arm and guide you all over the place to the exit, where the breeze of air hit you and relaxed your whole body."Thanks..." You said still holding on to his arm

"Someone did something to you?" Lando said grabbing your waist "what? Oh nonono, i'm just a little bit tired..."You said fixing your dress."I think I should go back, my friend is waiting for me..." you said turning towards the door making Lando grab you again."You're not going anywhere like this." Your way of walking was clumsy and you were still holding your dizzy head with your hand.

You sat on the sidewalk and covered your face as you burst into tears,Lando opened his eyes wide and sat beside you putting an arm on your shoulder."what- what's wrong?" He said nervously.

"it's just-" You said as your voice your trembled,honestly you hated seeing how people on Twitter supported Franco 'I'm sure she cheated first' or 'i would've done the same cause she is prettier' or just any bullshit justifying Franco's actions. But you kept quiet, you saw how THAT girl said that there were no broken hearts, that she was just a new girlfriend, not a lover.

And though you didn't want to make any statements for the media, you had reached a limit, a limit that hurt you like a stab in your chest, carrying all the weight and guilt on your back. You just wanted to spit out all your hatred and let off all your steam.

"I'm tired of pretending everything is okay when it clearly isn't!" You said with rage,Your tears fell down your cheeks while Lando pulled you into a hug,pressing your face on his chest.

"is this because of...Franco?" Unable to speak through crying, you nodded."Why don't we go home? We can forget about that dickhead..." Lando said trying to cheer you up, you nodded as he stood up putting his coat around your shoulders.

That night Lando took you in his car to his house, the two of you stayed curled up in his bed looking at the large window that illuminated the room with the moonlight. They stared at each other as you caressed his cheek, without any remorse he pulled you into a warm kiss.

2 months later...

"Te creí,y yo no doy más de una oportunidad"

"I believed you,And I don't give more than one chance "

You looked at your phone and saw how he now acted innocent now, pretending and saying that I was aware of this 'extracurricular' relationship. You looked at yourself in the large mirror and started putting on your makeup, your playlist started playing in the background, A guitar rhythm reached your ears as you continued to look at yourself in the mirror, DOLCE by cazzu began to play.

"Ojalá te dure eso de aparentar. Mujeres bonitas ninguna real"

"I hope this 'pretending' lasts for you. Pretty women, none real"

You remember those afternoons watching the sunset while you cuddle with him tangled in a blanket. How you did sacrifice thousands of opportunities to be with him, leave your country to travel with him for the season.

"Como Yo, que contigo estaba a morir y a matar"

"like me,that for you i was willing to die and kill"

And you saw how she didn't even bother to go see him race,she only posted something if he reaches podium and then just photos on a yacht with him. You actually expected him to realize that you were there from the beginning. And it is better for him to know that if he ever looks for that support from his partner, he won't find it.

"Dudo que una así te vuelvas a encontrar

me voy pero antes me voy a vengar."

"I doubt you'll ever meet a girl like me again

I'm leaving but first I'm going to take revenge"

You headed to your closet to pull out the soft, fine, dark red silk fabric that was sticking out from between the dresses and gave it a Big glance to appreciate it. You wore that dress when you met Franco at an event, it was the dress that made him fall in love with you. You dropped your clothes, leaving you in your underwear, to start putting on the dress.Today was the FIA awards, and you would accompany Lando, to Hard launch your relationship. And why not show off that beautiful DOLCE & GABBANA dress to show him what he's missing? You were having the best time ever, Lando was kind and good, you loved everything about him.

A Besides, it was to be expected that a proud guy like Lando would love to make everyone know that you were his, that he would be getting that dress out of you that night, and he loved knowing that Franco would be mad and jelous. You were waiting for him to come in his luxury sports car and get you, you already felt the sweet taste of revenge on your tongue

You took a big breath as you grabbed your purse,Fluffy dark red coat and fixed your hair before going out.

"yo también sé cómo portarme mal...

y se bien que hacer para hacerte llorar"

"I also know how to misbehave...

and i know exactly what to do to make You cry"

You sighed and turned off the lights in your house, put away your makeup and tidied everything.You sighed nervously and looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time thinking 'This is what he deserves for being a dick...'Reoste And you grabbed your cell phone, turning off the music to put it in your purse, without forgetting to listen another line of the song

"a ver si aprendes a valorar..."

"to see if you learn to value me..."

You smiled and put it in your purse, You heard a horn and went fastly to the door. And there it was, Lando Norris right in front of You "Fuck...You are gorgeous." He said putting a hand on your waist and kissing you,You smiled and walked towards his car."don't get to cocky tonight Norris!" You scoffed getting into the as he laughed."i can't help when i know that this idiot is going to be wanting you all night long" He said getting into the car and putting a hand on your to squeeze your thigh.

When they arrived at the place, the paparazzis started taking pictures of you two like crazy, Lando grabbed you by the waist and posed with you."it's going to be a long night..." It was impossible to ignore Franco's gaze on you all night, especially when Lando noticed it and started kissing you or putting an arm around you. Although it was too funny to see him like that while his girlfriend didn't even notice.

"I really hope that everyone who calls him Casanova or a Flirt realize what an idiot he is, do You think the dates he took me on were his idea?, but of course not!, Do you really think a man like him is a casanova when I had to teach him how to basically have a girlfriend?, I don't believe it...I don't believe it." You said confessing for the first time your thoughts on the situation in a interview after keeping quiet for so long."I hope you know there's a little bit of me in every single part of that person and every time that person does something nice I want you to think, 'Did that really come completely from him?'." You laughed."And now that i'm in a very healthy relationship with my boyfriend i understood how toxic was it when i was with this person...but i really hope he is happy now! and I wish him the best of luck, no hard feelings!".

"se te olvidó que lo que sabes te lo enseñé yo"

"You forgot that I taught you what you know"

[bilolli]

Okay gotta write this down real quick before I forget about it bc rn I can't draw.

Hospitalized Sun and Moon have to periodically pass maintenance tests to prove they are in tip top condition to care for their patients. It's the law, they must be upgraded with the lastest medical knowledge and get oiled and all that.

To do their maintenance they have to leave their patient in the hands of other human or robotic medical staff and they have no way of knowing what happens to them due to the fact that they have to turn off any kind of connection to the hospital local server to upgrade.

So then...

Sun, entering y/n room after he was absent for the entire morning due to his maintenance session, freezes looking at y/n perfectly made bed and absence of most of their things.

It's not possible. It was a good day today, he asked you before going to his appointment. He was going to ask to reschedule if it was one of those bad days.

He only stayed away for something like 5 hours.

Why was the room so...clean. You were messy, you usually left your things at the end of the bed or around the room...now he could only see your pajama neatly folded on the chair.

Where were you?

Where were you?

Where were you?!

Then someone tapped his right shoulder, he turned around only to see...nothing.

"ha! Got you!" Came from his left side.

He turned around and just stared.

Your cheeks were slightly red, probably due to the stairs you had to take to return to your room with your jacket on. A nurse behind you. Ah, you probably just returned from the garden.

"stunned by the amazing work I did I see. You always complain that I'm too messy so while you were at parts and services I decided to reorganize the room. Then you were taking too long and we decided to go take a walk outside"

Oh...oh.

You were ok, he...what was he thinking. You-

Without thinking Sun picked you up in a tight hug and spun you around while the nurse yelped and told him to "be more delicate!"

"you did a frightening job sunshine! But I think I liked your mess better!"

"what?!"

"time to do some art and crafts to bring some personality back in this room!"

The nurse left with a wave of his hand and a sigh while you grinned at him.

What were you doing to him?

[elodieunderglass]

Hi! I saw you mention in a post about people being into a thing in a weird way, and you mentioned permaculture. I dont know anything about that, could you elaborate? (serious question, just curious)

(This is in reference to a post that talked about the difficulty of having some interests (like Vikings) that are notorious for being shared with really right-wing people. For example, a tattoo with Norse runes could mean someone is a normal and interesting person who likes history and fantasy fiction, or they could be a vile white supremacist. I added to the post mentioning that permaculture is one of those interests, and that I wasn’t going to talk about it.)

I am not the first or only person to say this about permaculture, but I’ll take a stab at explaining it to an outsider.

What is permaculture? Permaculture is a term coined in 1978 to describe an approach to land management and food production based on how things work in ecosystems, centering the environment, and based on the ethical principles of Earth Care (sustainability, rebuilding of the environment, survival without destruction), People Care (meet people’s needs fairly and simply, build community) and Fair Share (find a balance of consumption, recognise limits around what can be taken from the environment, and share as much as possible.) movements like rewilding, reforestation, self-sufficiency, intentional communities, sustainable food production, regenerative agriculture and so on are all aspects of interest in permaculture.

However, by itself it’s kind of a nebulous term, because it’s applied to everything with a lofty wave of the hand; everything from somebody’s weedy old tomato plants, to a radical commune, can be vaguely described as “permaculture.” It’s possibly most accurate to call it an umbrella term for some loosely related fields, than a political movement or widespread agricultural practice. That’s part of the intention; by coining the term and describing what goes into it, the founders of the philosophy were trying to clarify communications; obviously, forms of permaculture have been practiced historically for all of human history!!! The usefulness of the term and definition is all about clarifying a unified package of philosophies to set against the behemoth of conventional, capitalistic, extractive land-management.

Ok so given that “everyone can do permaculture/ you can do it with your raised beds right now!” there’s a lot of overlap with people interested in individual self-sufficiency, off-grid living, rewilding, etc at home. in terms of online communities those are particularly vulnerable to sharing interests with right-wing people. In particular, isolationists/separatists/sovcits, right-wing preppers, nationalists, and of course, The Fucking Tradwives.

Why? Well, permaculture/self-sufficiency are connected to ideas of alternatives to the current system, and attract people who are interested in that. The most obvious is ecofascism although people are finally more aware of this (sending the ecofash into the coverts of being crypto-ecofash, but whatever, it’s a win that they feel less comfortable.) There may be a distrust of authority/the state which can be quite normal (don’t pledge allegiance to the USA flag!) and can be right-wing (MAGA people storming the capital did so because they claimed to distrust the state.) There may be a distrust of science/medicine, often hand-in-hand with the sort of “back to nature/ the earth is wiser than we are / indigenous practices” rhetoric that sounds quite lofty and righteous, but doesn’t quite explain why you haven’t vaccinated your kids, iykwim? Anything back-to-the-land should be examined carefully, because it CAN be progressive - or white nationalist - and sometimes both. Anything including a withdrawal from society ditto - yes, even if it’s a queer commune of witches growing tomatoes or whatever - because “withdrawing from multicultural/inclusive/tolerant/diverse/public-transport-having cities to a secure place of purity and control” is a necessary pillar of right-wing separatist thought. Anything talking about connection to the land should be considered attentively.

None of those are problematic and most are interests or behaviours that any normal person might have. They have to be considered carefully for context. Often, quite kind people can accidentally repeat unfortunate things, or speak badly.

It also doesn’t mean that all of permaculture is a tar pit - it just happens to overlap at certain points with the right-wing agenda, and often, the left-wing are bad at spotting that. It’s natural to accidentally absorb weird politics without examining them - that’s why propaganda is effective. All of these worries about pipelines/algorithms are based on the fact that that bad politics can form from quite innocuous beliefs. These are just some spaces/words where I’ve noticed it’s worth paying attention.

I’m personally wondering if I’m noticing the use of “indigenous” being slowly pushed into a space that worries me, rather like “traditional, heritage, natural, spiritual” have been? But I have not seen Indigenous people discussing this yet.

Also, other people have written about the tradwives so hopefully you can fold in what you know about that. There are also TERFs in permaculture; my harebrained theory is that radical feminists in general like the idea of having control over the environment, but want it to feel like a wise, sacred feminine thing. I was in some casual Facebook permaculture groups some years ago and the amount of schisms felt entirely like a) eldritch Catholicism or something??? B) fandom drama. There would be incredible stuff happening like the formation of splinter Facebook groups called like “Women In Permaculture 2.3 No TERFs” and “Gender Critical Women in Permaculture 2.3” which were 7 evolutions away from an initial “practicing permaculture” group.

In real life, people are unfortunately weirder and more open about it, but easier to avoid and less insidious. But that’s for another time.

@samwisethewitch has this good post with lots of resources in this space that aren’t pipelines of worrying ideology: https://www.tumblr.com/whovianuncle/773929827585638400 (by looking at the title alone, you can hopefully see some of the reality and scope of the problem enough that it isn’t just Elodie running their mouth!)

[lycheebloom]

Great! If you don't mind, may I request for some Yan shadow milk cookie with an amnesic reader?

I had the idea of reader already knowing his pre corruption or past self (like the last fic) but when the corruption began and he was sealed away reader asked the witches for a wish of erase all the memories of him to take all the emotional pain away

And when they cross paths once again reader would just not remember him or have blurry memories about them two together

I hope it's not an odd scenario if you want to add or change it a little it's totally ok ♡

Thank you so much! Your last fic was awesome ☆

Have a nice day 💛

yes of course !! and thank you , i’m glad you like my work ! *\(^o^)/*

abstraction : short scenario of yan. shadow milk cookie w/ amnesiac reader !

tw : yandere shadow milk cookie, light psychological manipulation, obsessive & possessive behavior

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ After your captor had been cast away, you were almost at a loss for what to do. The image of him had been seared into your mind, plaguing you into sleepless nights—you swore the same familiar shade of blue imprinted itself into your very vision no matter how hard you tried to rid all trace of his presence.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ So you resorted to the only option that would grant you even just a sliver of peace in the onslaught of what had become the reality of your life.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ With a somber heart, you came before the Witches, pleading with them desperately to wipe away your memories revolving around him—no matter how insignificant and brief.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ And so it was done.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ The massive gap within your memories was filled with a placeholder, memories of the war caused by the Beasts replacing them—with the image of him only being a muddled and indistinguishable blur at best, yet even that eroded away with time.

——————————

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ Upon his first taste of freedom after what could only be described as a millennia—Shadow Milk Cookie was brimming with glee at the prospect of meeting you once more.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ He was quick to isolate you from the rest of your peers—But oh, could you really blame him? He hadn’t seen you in so long!

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ Yet, his excitement slightly faltered upon a daunting realization. You didn’t retain even a semblance of the moments he had so lovingly built with you.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ At first, Shadow Milk Cookie thought you were merely messing with him, a meaningless yet amusing attempt to drive him away—but upon digging into your memories, the truth unraveled itself before him.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ Well, that was disappointing.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ But not to worry!~☆

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ He'd be a bad lover to give up on you over something as miniscule as this—No, no, something like this was merely a small hindrance in your destiny with him. A small thorn in his path.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ He’ll gladly take up the role as the ever-so benevolent beholder of your shared history, whilst crafting new memories now that he finally has you back in his grasp.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ For what was the need for rush? In this rift of space, he’s the one in control. Everything bended to his will, and you would be no exception.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ For now, he’d play into the act of a hurt, and misguided “evil” cookie that loved you to the ends of Earthbread! Centuries of this.. unguided mindset had taken a deep root into your very essence, staining your perspective on him as a whole! Truly tragic…

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ Alas, it couldn’t be helped! Still, he was the Beast of Deceit. The might of those flimsy Ancients paled in comparison to even just a quarter of the deeds he could perform, much less the one with a puritan savior-complex. Shadow Milk Cookie grimaced at the thought, before the expression disappeared just as fast—shaping itself back into a friendly smile towards your nervous and uncertain form. He could fix that in no time.

˗ˋˏ꒰ঌ So as one of the many gestures in proving his eternal adoration for you, he’ll start with happily washing away the impurities they’ve casted onto you.

[rauspberries]

still a friend. - s.r.

sure hope it was one hell of a kiss, my friend.

spencer reid x bau liasion!reader.

summary: after your new boyfriend turns out to a murderer, spencer will do anything in his power to help you smile again.

tags: afab reader, sunshine x sunshine, mentions of guns, kidnapping, murder & other themes present in criminal minds, panic attack, hurt/comfort, forced proximity that’s not forced at all, i like to imagine it as later seasons reid [however there's no mention of prison arc], still a friend by the backseat lovers

word count: 3.1k

notes: ok hear me out. think about the episode 'lucky' and the episode 'penelope.' that's what i'm going for here. this is my first ever time writing spencer. it took me days. free me.

hey @reidswrld

If you closed your eyes tight enough, you felt like you were still there. Cold metal pressed against your temple, harsh words in your ears, the pull of rope against your wrists. Despite the familiarity of your home, decorated in low lights and multiple potted plants that were loved like your own children, you had been afraid. He had turned it into a place of fear, a spot for nothing but bad memories and bloodstains in your carpet.

It had been almost three weeks since your team had pushed into your apartment, only to be met with the sight of you bound to your dining room chairs, your boyfriend of only a couple weeks holding a handgun to your head. You loved those chairs, and had told the whole team about them right after you had purchased them. They were thrifted, hand-carved by an artist you never had the pleasure to meet. Shame that you’d never be able to look at them the same anymore.

Your boyfriend had been an idiot. A psychotic one, but an idiot all the same. He had left too much evidence behind with his three victims, making it too easy for your team to profile him and pick him out of their list of names. Once you had accidentally let it slip that the BAU was on the tail of their suspect, you had become a problem, needing to be eliminated. So he had tried.

You had worked as a liaison for long enough to learn a few tells of body language, or the original signs of psychopathic behavior. Despite this, you had missed all of them when it came to him. You had been too excited to find someone that could handle your busy and erratic schedule, someone that loved you for you, something that was rare in this day and age. You had even let his passive-aggressive demeanor slide, along with the comments that always tended to sting somewhere deep inside.

After he had been taken down by Morgan and Hotch, you’d wanted out of your apartment as soon as possible. JJ and Garcia had packed up your stuff based off of a small list you provided them once your hands and voice had stopped shaking. They had whispered in your presence, keeping secrets about the case to each other and asking if you were okay. They hadn’t needed to whisper – your ears hadn’t stopped ringing.

For a while, you stayed in a hotel, curled in the cool sheets that smelled like nothing as you stared at the plain walls, so different from the house you had turned into a home with wallpaper and pretty colors. For a while, you chastised yourself for not getting over it faster. You thought about how you should be stronger in times like these, especially with everything you saw on a daily basis in your job as the BAU unit’s liaison. Unfortunately, it was a lot easier to compartmentalize when it wasn’t happening directly to you. 

You weren’t like everyone else on your team, you couldn’t just act like these things didn’t happen.

You tried to trick your brain into producing serotonin. You attempted to shower every morning, eat three meals, even exercise in the seclusion of your hotel room. But every shower ended with you staring blankly at the wall, every meal went untouched, and once you were on the ground, you couldn’t get back up. 

As normal protocol, you were given a minimum of three weeks of leave in the wake of the event. For the first week, everyone took turns checking on you. Penelope brought you fun-colored stress toys that collected dust on the side table, while Emily and JJ sat with you to chat about anything but what had happened. 

And Spencer? Spencer brought you company. He sat at the desk chair in the corner, long legs stretched out as he babbled about anything and everything. Sometimes, he sat there quietly, only speaking up to ask you if you knew the answer to a certain crossword question. Usually, it was something easy, something he already knew. Like, a passionate declaration, like in marriage vows – the answer was too obviously avowal.

Each time he visited, he left a book for you, annotations directed towards you scribbled in the margins and tabs marking the parts he thought you’d like best. The first book, Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen, had a scrawl on the author’s dedication page, with Reid noting both opinions and facts about the book. You felt your lips twitch with the ghost of a smile as you read the definitions of both of the words in the titles and how they were related to the actual book, as you read the words and the facts the doctor had written in the blank spaces.

After a week of Spencer stopping by every day before and after work, you gave him the extra keycard to your room that you had been given when you checked in. A lot of the time you didn’t have the energy to crawl out of your bed, so it made it easier for you. Despite having the key card, he still always knocked, waiting on some type of verbal sign before actually opening the door and stepping in.

One night, he stopped by your hotel room, a take-out bag looped over his forearm as he rustled in his bag for the keycard. Once it was curled between his palm and fingers, he lightly rapped on the door, leaning his head closer to it to listen for your voice calling for him to come in. His brow furrowed when he was only met with the sound of your room’s AC unit and the faint sniffles it attempted to cover.

Immediately, he had bursted into your room after sliding the key card into the slot above the knob, long legs getting him to your bedside as soon as possible. His eyes had softened as he took in the sight of you sitting up, arms laced around your knees, which were pulled up to your chest defensively. Your eyes were dark, sullen, the whites of them red with irritation from pushing away tears. Even your breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling quickly until it sounded like wheezing.

Spencer had pulled you practically into his lap, your fingers gripping at the soft material of his sweater as his large hand ran up and down the expanse of your back. He had murmured soft words that didn’t quite register to you, however were soothing all the same, as he pressed your hand to his chest, letting you feel the steady beat of his heart.

Once you had finally been soothed properly, your breathing evening out as his hand slowed until it lay still on your spine, you explained to him that you had been woken by a nightmare, the same one that had been playing through your head for the past two weeks. Immediately, he insisted that you stay at his apartment. As if proving it would help steer your decision towards a “yes,” he spilled out facts about processing traumas, like how talking to people and reminding yourself of pleasant hobbies, along with being in a familiar place, would help with recovery.

Which is how you ended up curled up on his couch, fingers tracing the pages of the book in your lap. You had been picking through all of Jane Austen’s books since you had started sleeping on his couch, with Emma being your pick of the week. Spencer hadn’t gotten to annotating this one yet, too busy with a new case that had just come in, so you had plucked a pen off of his desk, scribbling notes just like he usually did. It didn’t matter much, since you tended to spill your opinion to him the minute he stepped through the door, however it kept your brain occupied.

Your head raises as you recognize the sound of his key in the lock, looking up and over your shoulder just as it opened. “Welcome home. I’m almost done with Emma. It’s quite amusing, less factual, so I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but it’s good.” You glance back down at the pages as you stick a receipt in the fold of the book, shutting it before continuing. “It’s about a matchmaker named Emma. She thinks she’s the best at it, especially because she set up the governess and a wealthy widower, but she ends up missing all of the signs that the men she’s matching are into her.”

As you speak, Spencer takes his satchel off, laying it on the armchair near the front door before slowly making his way towards his couch. A smile pulls at his lips as his fingers work to undo the buttons on his wrists, brow raising slightly. “You have been reading quite a bit since you settled in here.”

A soft huff leaves your nose as you settle back into the cushions, watching as he perches himself up onto the back of the leather couch. It feels wrong to be so comfortable in an apartment that’s not your own, but it’s almost impossible to not feel soothed by the dark wood that makes up his desk and bookshelves, which were stacked with books upon books of all different genres. The verdun color of the walls alongside the sets of patterned couch pillows and comfortable throw blankets were ten times better than the impersonable decorations of the hotel room you had lived in for two weeks.

“Well, you don’t have a TV, and you can’t play chess by yourself.” There’s a pause, and then you speak again. “Unless you’re you. And I’m not,” you add, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

He folds the edges of his sleeves back towards himself, pushing up the fabric up to his elbows, revealing his forearms slowly. “Playing chess by yourself is actually the best way to learn how to play and hone your skills. Many professional chess players, such as Bobby Fischer, often play chess alone. It helps you learn the game and discover what type of player you are. It gives you more time to focus on your moves so that, in an actual chess match, you don’t run out of time before you know what to do.”

You toss the ballpoint pen in your hands at his chest, huffing in mock irritation as he easily catches it and tosses it back to you. “Good thing I’m not looking to switch career paths anytime soon, hm?” Your brow quirks slightly, your amusement apparent only in that little movement.

“That it is.” He responds, still holding a soft smile as his coffee-colored eyes soften around the corners edges. His gaze averts downwards at his fingers as he starts to tug on them, growing sheepish. “How have you been?” 

Despite the vagueness and normalcy of the question, you immediately know what he’s referring to, suddenly finding the loose threads on the blanket over your lap very interesting. “Better,” you admit, seeing no reason to lie. “The nightmares aren’t as bad as they were back at the hotel, but they’re not gone. The panic comes and goes.”

Slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll spook you, he stands back up, moving around the couch before settling a cushion away from you. He leans back against the arm of the couch as he starts working at loosening his tie, pulling it over his head before laying it on his coffee table. “Do you want to talk about it? All aspects of trauma can be lessened by communicating it to a trusted individual. Not necessarily go through it again, like cognitive interviews, but speaking more about the depth of it. How you felt, why you still feel it even after that, the direct cause of feeling like you’re still there.”

Just like that, you’re setting your book aside, knees pulling up to your chest in an attempt to shy away. It’s funny how you can know body language so well and yet not stop yourself from giving yourself away with it. Knees to chest meant a multitude of things, such as defensive posture or an intense interest in wanting to leave conversations or situations. You had to look at the situation as a whole to figure out the exact reason, or the other cues. Hunched back and averted eye contact usually indicated sadness, fear or insecurity. The rub of your own hand against your arm indicated self-soothing. It was all about the context.

Spencer notices quickly, reaching out to brush his fingertips against your kneecap. Despite the soft touch, he doesn’t speak, lips pressing in a harder line as he simply gazes at you. He’s waiting for you to speak, to take in whatever information you’ll give him. 

Looking into his eyes, you realize why people call them ‘puppy dog eyes.’ Glancing into them, you’re ready to spill your guts about just about everything. You’re tempted to tell him about the candy bar you stole when you were in sixth grade, or when you tripped someone in the high school hallway because they kept shoving into you.

“I thought he liked me.” You mumble once you realize you had just been staring at him for the past few moments, plucking at the throw blanket again as you avert your gaze. “But looking back, he was a bit mean. He’d always make these little comments.” You clear your throat as you glance towards the ceiling, blinking quickly to try and avoid the sting of tears. “Like ‘didn’t you wear that shirt yesterday,’ or ‘sure you don’t want to change’?”

As you speak, Spencer’s hand moves to cup your entire kneecap, thumb brushing against the soft spot in the middle. His touch is warm, heating up the skin underneath your sweatpants. He can practically see the words on the edge of your tongue, allowing you to continue. 

Your focus doesn’t stray from the hand on your knee as you let the words fall out. “He’d knocked on my door. It was normal. Stepped inside, let me kiss him on the cheek. Thinking about it makes me want to gag.” One of your hands lifts to touch your fingers against your mouth, tracing the line of your lips as you remember the feel.

“You can feel the change in the room when someone goes from good to bad. I didn’t think it’d be like the movies and shows, where they describe their eyes as darkening or their smile as wicked, but it is. The energy changes. It feels like slow motion.” 

Your breathing picks up as you speak. Spencer’s quick to notice it, body leaning closer towards you, like he’s prepared to catch you if you fall. Your lips part in an attempt to speak again, but the words are swallowed by a soft sob. Before you know it, you’re tumbling down a hill, heart beating faster and breathing growing quicker.

Memories, the science that comes along with them, are all one hell of a thing. Everything about them has an effect on the brain. Things like sounds, smells, textures, they’re connected to the memories. Meaning if you think about them, if you feel them, you end up right back where you were at that time and place. Like how sunshine on your skin reminds you of days at the park as a young kid, or how the smell of flowers brings you back to the farmer’s market on a Sunday after you just moved to DC. 

Thinking about what led up to you being tied up to the chair, you can feel it. The icy chill of fear that cascaded over your back, the dread that sunk deep in your stomach, even the goosebumps that traveled up your arm. They’re all there. It’s like it’s happening again.

Your vision blurs around the edges as you struggle to take in air, hand grasping at Spencer’s for any type of support. You’re aware of what’s happening, but you cannot stop it, not even as you try to take in air into your nose and out through your mouth. His voice echoes in your head, but it morphs into something different, something distorted.

You’re only brought out of your panic by the feeling of lips on yours.

Your eyes widen at the shock of it, chest still heaving as your breath evens out. Your hand still clutches at Spencer’s as you feel your entire body relax, allowing yourself the comfort of kissing him back.

After your entire body has relaxed, your chest no longer hurting with the strain of lost breath, Spencer pulls away. His eyes are slightly wide as he looks at you, studying your face for any signs of being uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. Uhm.” He clears his throat, leaning away from you as he runs his hands through his hair. “Uh, kissing. It releases so-called happy chemicals, such as oxytocin and serotonin, tricking your brain into leaving the panic behind. It also helps you steady your breathing. Nothing else was working so, uh…”

As he trails off, you reach out to grab his hand again, giving it a soft squeeze. “Thank you.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance, but it's close enough. 

You watch as the panic slowly leaves his eyes, settling into only a soft worry, although his cheeks are still dusted with a light shade of pink. “You’re welcome,” he responds bashfully, eyes still looking down at his lap.

A soft laugh leaves your lips as you reach up to brush your tears away, leaning back into the couch again. After a moment of silence, you roll your lips into your mouth before speaking. “Can we go see a movie?”

Spencer’s brows raise in surprise, the lines on his forehead from focusing so much prominent. “Like, at a theater? Are you sure?” He’s still tugging at his fingers as he speaks, head tilting slightly as he assesses all of your body language.

You smile sheepishly at him, body slowly uncurling. “Yeah. I have a tough BAU agent to protect me, don’t I?”

He smiles brightly at that, eyes softening as he glances back up at your face. “That you do.”

[draggomon]

This is something I've been working through with my current partner. My therapist referred to me as a "emotional medic".

I would constantly prioritize the safety and boundaries and comfort of EVERYONE else before allowing myself even the barest minimum of self care. I would shut down, constantly, just to keep myself safe.

Any emotions I felt that would be an inconvenience to the people I was with would be shut down and ignored until something broke and I was hurt further.

I developed this after years of being with and around people where, even the most minor of boundary setting or messing up (on either side, them or I) could potentially lead them to huge spirals and multi day long depression / anxiety episodes.

It's something I'm learning to get past. I'm tired of being the medic and I deserve to have people who will give me the benefit of the doubt when I fuck up. Who trust me to act like an adult when they fuck up. Who treat themselves and ME as a adults in an adult relationship.

I remember talking to my therapist about my partner at the time not being an abuser. He was a good guy! Just...anxious....yea?

"You don't have to be a bad person to be an abuser. You're being punished and trained to react in a way that fits him. He can be a good guy and still be taking advantage of you, of manipulating you, of hurting you. Until you stand up, you can't walk the path of healing.

Standing up would inconvenience him, and he has trained you to believe his needs outweighs yours. You need to stand up, or you'll die laying down. "

We deserve better. All of us.

Edit to add some further thinking:

We can all be abusers. You can be an abuser without intending on it. I have a partner, and then I have some people I'm intimate with. I've taken advantage of them before without meaning to. I've manipulated them before without meaning too.

You can't make yourself a safe person to exist around until you make it ok to be confronted and questioned. When my partner or "pseudo partners" come to me saying I made them feel a certain way, then it starts a dialogue.

I call this "coming to the table". I make sure the table I keep is calm. If I need to calm down, I'll leave and do so. I won't punish or minimize, but I also will allow myself space to feel my emotions and share my experiences.

I can hurt one of the people in my circle, and it doesn't make me a bad person. But the fact that I can recognize that hurt, make space for it, and can do so without self punishing or spiraling, means they can focus fully on themselves and what they need. That means it's safe to say no, to say they don't wanna prioritize me. It's safe to say I'm not the only thing keeping them together.

I'm wanted, not needed. Which is scary AF. It also is why our relationships are so strong.

It's not just about your ability to not spiral during the minor things. It's you showing love and care during the dark times, without punishing yourself. It's humanizing and loving yourself even after you've hurt someone, so that they don't have to take care of you or minimize themselves.

It's allowing yourself to be strong enough to realize that you're not powerful enough to ruin someone's life so easily, that you're scared and sometimes you hurt people. That you can still love those people, and loving them means confronting that you hurt them by saying "I hurt you. I love you and didn't mean to. I'd like to make space for your healing, however that looks like. I got me, I won't take it personally. We're still a team."

And you gotta trust them to not lash out. To not use this hurt as an excuse to hurt you. Because when we are afraid, when we feel alone or betrayed, and we feel hurt, we attack th3 thing that hurt us. It's in our nature. We're still animals.

If you can't be fully honest when hurt, then you'll retreat and barriers will start to be built. Once built, it's hard to tear that shit down. Make it so that it's safe for others to be fully honest with you, even when both of you are hurt.

Btw when someone says "don't talk to me like that, I don't know you" the normal thing to do is apologize for the perceived overfamiliarity and correct the behavior. Just in case anyone was wondering

[inky-duchess]

Writing Theory: Dialogue

One question, I often get asked on this blog concerns dialogue and how to write it. Dialogue is the characters speaking to one another or even to themselves and while it sounds easy, it can be difficult to chose what your character might say or how they might say it or even how it might present on the page/word doc/napkin you're writing it on.

Content: The What and Why

What is your character actually saying? Your character is in a situation (which hopefully you put them in or at least know what is going on, if you do not, it is OK). But in most situations, most characters interact in some way, whether it is verbal or not. What your character says has to link to the situation in some way. Picture yourself on a bus sitting next to a friend and you have just seen a dog out of the window. What would be the response or the natural line of conversation here? Probably 'Oh, that dog is cute.' or 'This journey is taking forever.' etc. It unlikely would be a long monologue about a character's deepest darkest secrets or an admission of murder. It is unlikely, but of course not impossible. But generally, one usually tries to keep the conversation to the present and the now. Allow your character to get their point, or even part of it, across to who they talking about clearly. Remember not only does their companion need to know what is being said, but as do your readers.

Why is this person saying this? There is a deeper level to what anybody says and we all know this. A person will generally keep to neutral phrases or topics in order to keep the peace, distance themselves from whoever they are having the conversation with or a person will be curt and short with somebody they are not getting along with or a person will be polite and formal to somebody who demands the respect. There is a reason behind word choice, a reason behind tone and even topic. You won't have to delve into the intricacies of the 'hello' or 'hey' types of dialogue but say if a character was in a situation they must or do chose their words carefully, then you have to consider the why of it as you write the conversation.

Characteristics of Speech

Characters don't talk like they are reading from an instruction manual. Personality, experience and other factors effect how your character might speak. Next time you are in a group setting, focus on how the people around you speak, whether its the sentence structure, the tone, the volume or the flow of their words. No character speaks the same as another, and nor should they. I go further into this in this post here. Now you have established your character's voice as it pertains to personality, now consider the actual voice of your character. How would you describe your character's voice? Even if you don't include a description of it in your narrative, you should have some idea of how your character speaks. Some people have gravelly voices, high pitched voices, clear, garbled, etc. You can of course, fan cast a voice if you wish. The way your character speak can give away things about them as people. Contractions, slang and colloquial phrases are often used to denote those of working class or poorer factions whether the lack of them, including a larger vocabulary, are often attributed to a wealthier, more educated class. You can say a lot about somebody by the way they speak and is an important tool in the entire show don't tell deal. Speaking of...

Showing, Not Telling when Your Character is Yapping

People don't often come out with what they really want to say. Thankfully or else I would be unemployed and in jail.

Concealment: Like I said before, characters will sometimes chose words or specific tones when speaking or breaking off at certain points to conceal what they are thinking. The dialogue might look something similar to using different approaches either with a character trailing off before the offending phrase (...) or catching themselves (-) or hesitating/considering their words/pausing before speaking. It doesn't often mean a character is being evasive, they may be avoiding harming somebody's feelings.

Class/Social rank: Like I said above, the way somebody speaks can be an indication of their status in society. This is not a bad thing, we have different ways of speaking because we come from different walks of life, we have totally different experiences. Writing the character's voice with this in mind can indicate your character's background.

Nationality/Culture: As in the real world, we don't all speak the same language, it makes us who we are and marks out our culture and place in the world. Phrases, sayings and specific words or even pauses to consider the wording or sentence structure can denote a character from having a different mother tongue or culture than those around them. Your character may sometimes have to tailor what they say to somebody of a different culture or nationality even if they speak the same language. For example, if I'm writing a post here or in my WIP, I often have to steer clear of slang, sentence structure. grammar structure and phrases that non-Irish people are not familiar with.

Emotion: Emotion and dialogue walk hand in hand, a character will not speak without some emotion behind it and most emotions make us want to say something. Anger will make our words sharper, harsher, more abrupt. Happiness will make words flow faster, more positive and sometimes even jumbled. Grief will make one sound disconnected, numb and unable to think straight. The way your characters speak can tell your reader and the rest of the cast able to read their emotional state even if they cannot see their face or your helpful dialogue tags.

Sensibilities and Personality: Word choice and avoidance of certain words can tell somebody a lot about the person speaking. Somebody who avoids cursing or using 'vulgar' language might be considered proper, mannerly and formal. Somebody who does might be judged. Somebody who avoids topics that are considered taboo is somebody who aligns to social norms and expectations while somebody who tends to venture into incendiary topics is likely not and more free willed. These are not bad things but it can tell you a lot about the person speaking or in the way that person responds to somebody's words.

On Dialogue Tags and the Controversy of 'Said'

(nobody would ever fucking say that)

I don't buy into this drama over dialogue tags. Some writers will denounce them, some swear by them and they have been arguing over this as often as we do about the Oxford Comma. The real truth is that it is up to you. It is not a cardinal sin to use them and there is nothing - NOTHING - wrong with using the word said. There are of course some dialogue tags I personally hate and some I love but there is nothing wrong with the word 'said' or 'says'. Here are a few commonly used tags.

A

Accused: Used to pin the blame on somebody.

Added: Usually used when the character is adding to something they or somebody else has said.

Agonized: When a character is distressed over something.

Agreed: Used when a character allows something or agrees with something that is said.

Acknowledged: Used when giving voice to a fact.

Announced: Used for a statement.

Asked: Posing a question

Answered: To address a question.

Addressed: When a character draws attention to something or draws the attention of somebody.

Affirmed: Used when a character is stating an opinion or fact.

Apologized: When a character is saying sorry for something.

Approved: When a character is giving their support to a fact or something somebody has said.

Articulated: When a character expresses a thought/idea.

Asserted: When a character affirms an opinion firmly.

Advertised: Used when a character is drawing attention to something.

B

Babbled: Used when a character is talking excitedly, often nonsensically.

Backtracked: Used when a character is going back on something they have said.

Badgered: Used when a character is nagging another.

Bawled: Used when a character is crying out, usually wildly and very loudly.

Bellowed: When a character is shouting.

Began: When a character begins a sentence or thought.

Bemoaned: When a character complains of something.

Bit: Used when a character is being sharp with something that is irritating them or angering them.

Blamed: Used when a character is assigning blame for something.

Bleated: When a character is complaining or moaning, usually used in a derogatory way.

Blurted: When a character says something without pause or thought.

Boasted: When a character displays self-pride.

Boomed: When a character speaks loudly.

Broadcasted: Used when a character is announcing something, usually loudly.

C

Called: When a character cries out for somebody.

Chanted: When a character speaks in a monotone or often repeating words over and over.

Chattered: When a character speaks rapidly, usually out of nerves or excitement.

Chastised: When a character rebukes another character.

Cheered: Used when a character is excited or pleased about something.

Chimed: When a character adds something to something already said.

Choked: Used when a character is having a difficult time getting the words out.

Chuckled: When a character laughs slightly.

Chortled: When a character laughs slightly and breathlessly.

Coughed: When a character’s breath catches.

Croaked: Used when a character’s voice is strained or dry.

Crowed: When a character boasts loudly about something.

Cried: When a character exclaims or weeps.

Cursed: When a character use swear words or denounces another character.

Cautioned: Used when a character warns somebody.

Complimented: Used when a character is lavishing praise on somebody.

Condemned: When a character denounces something.

Considered: Used when a character is thinking aloud.

Conferred: When a character discusses something with another, usually quiet.

Commented: Used when a character is expressing a thought or opinion.

Complained: Used when a character is annoyed over something.

Criticized: When a character comments negatively on something.

D

Declared: When a character announces something.

Denoted: When a character is indicating something.

Dictated: When a character is insisting on something, usually forcefully.

Drawled: When a character is talking in a low, slow voice.

Droned: When a character is talking on and on, usually derogatory.

E

Elaborated: When a character goes into detail explaining something.

Emitted: Used when a character makes a sound.

Enunciated: Used when a character makes their words clear, often to add emphasis.

Expressed: When a character conveys their thoughts and opinions on something.

F

Fumed: Usually when a character is angry over something.

Fretted: When a character is anxious, usually a reputation of intrusive thoughts.

G

Gasped: When a character inhales suddenly, usually in shock or pain.

Giggled: Used when a character laughing.

Gloated: When a character is boasting over besting another character.

Grinned: When a character is smiling widely when speaking.

Groaned: When a character makes a low sound, usually in pain or discomfort.

Growled: Used when conveying anger.

Grumbled: Used when a character is complaining but in a quiet, low way.

Gulped: When a character swallows.

Gushed: Used when a character is talking excitedly about something they care about.

H

Hissed: Used when a character is angry or irritated.

Howled: Used when a character is making a loud, drawn-out sound noise out of pain and grief.

I

Insisted: When a character speaks or lends their support persistently.

Interjected: When a character adds something into somebody else’s discussion.

Insulted: To speak negatively about another character.

J

Jabbered: Used when a character isn’t making sense but talking rapidly.

Joked: Used when a character is making a jest or fun of something.

L

Lamented: When a character expresses a deep thought or grief over something.

Laughed: Used when a character is laughing.

M

Mewled: When a character’s voice is talking in a feeble voice.

Mentioned: When a character interjects something but doesn’t explain it.

Mocked: Used when a character is teasing, either in humour or spite.

Moaned: Used when a character is complaining, in pain or discomfort.

Mumbled: When a character is speaking in a low, almost unintelligible voice.

Muttered: When a character speaks quietly, usually in an effort to not be overheard.

Murmured: When a character talks quietly, usually not to be overheard or to not gain attention.

N

Noted: When a character brings attention to something.

Nattered: When a character goes on about something almost absent-mindedly, usually when nervous or preoccupied.

O

Observed: When a character is offering their view on something.

Ordered: When a character is giving instruction to another, usually forcefully.

P

Panted: Used when a character is out of breath or panicked.

Praised: When a character is showing positive attention to something or somebody.

Prattled: When a character is talking about something without a line of thought or sometimes reason or attention.

Persisted: When a character keeps at a thought or opinion.

Q

Quavered: When a character’s voice warbles usually out of fear or anxiety or sadness.

Quipped: When a character makes a witty remark.

R

Raged: Used when a character is angry.

Ranted: When a character goes on about something, usually in a monologue expressing their emotion about the subject.

Rambled: Used when a character is talking about something that doesn’t matter or warrant attention.

Relayed: Used when a character is telling another character about something that happened previously.

Remarked: Used when a character speaks about something.

Replied: When a character answers back.

Reprimanded: Used when a character is rebuking another for an action or word.

Responded: When a character replies to something said.

Recited: When a character repeats something from memory.

Repeated: When a character says something again, usually right after they have said it.

Retorted: When a character replies tartly or sharply.

S

Sang: Used when a character is happy or light about something.

Scolded: When somebody is reprimanding a character.

Screamed: Used when a character is scared or angry.

Squalled: When a character is crying out loudly.

Smiled: When somebody speaks when they are smiling, usually positively but can be negative.

Smirked: Used when a character is being smug.

Sneered: When a character is speaking in a derogatory way.

Snarled: Used when a character is being aggressive or angry.

Snivelled: When a character is speaking through a runny nose or tears. It is usually used to denote a character as weak or vulnerable.

Sniffled: When a character is speaking with a runny nose and tears.

Shouted: When a character is saying something loudly or with extreme emotional.

Shrieked: When a character makes a sharp sound, usually from extreme emotion.

Stammered: When a character’s voice becomes halted with pauses, usually an indicator of a speech impediment or nerves or anxiety or fear.

Stated: When a character makes a statement.

Stuttered: When a character speaks with difficulty, often repeating the beginning of words, usually out of fear, anxiety or nerves. But it can also be attributed to a speech impediment.

Swore: When a character curses or uses vulgar words to express their anger.

Scoffed: Used when a character is being derisive about something.

Sighed: When a character exhales out of annoyance, anger, tiredness or boredom.

Screeched: When a character’s voice becomes high-pitched and erratic.

Spat: When a character speaks so forcefully that they almost spit saliva in their effort to get their often emotion driven words out.

Sputtered: Used when a character is unable to get the words out, usually out of disbelief.

Sobbed: When a character is crying so hard that their voice is garbled by their tears and gasps for breath.

Suggested: When a character proposes an idea.

T

Thundered: When a character is talking about something in an angry way, usually loudly.

Told: When your character is relaying something to another.

Tittered: Used when a character is half-laughing, half-trying to stifle it.

Thanked: When a character expresses thanks.

Trumpeted: Used when a character is excitedly announcing something.

U

Uttered: When a character speaks.

Urged: Used when a character is prompting another to take an action.

V

Voiced: When a character expresses their opinion verbally.

Vociferated: When a character argues vehemently.

W

Wailed: When a character makes a sound of grief, pain or discomfort.

Warbled: used when a character’s voice quavers.

Wept: When a character cries when speaking.

Whispered: Used when a character speaks quietly, so not to be overheard.

Whimpered: Used when a character’s voice is feeble and weak, usually in pain or fear

Wheezed: When a character’s voice is strained from lack of breath, such as after a coughing fit.

Whined: When a character complains usually in an irritating way.

Y

Yammered: When a character is talking about something with no line of thought.

Yelped: When a character cries out in shock, pain or discomfort.

Yawned: Used when a character is tired or bored.

Yelled: When a character speaks loudly out of anger or panic.

Yowled: When a character cries out, usually high-pitchedly.

Overusing dialogue tags can sometimes take a reader out of the narrative and make your scenes read more like plays. I generally follow the rule of 'if it not essential' it is out the window. You can simply write dialogue in speech quotes and nobody will stop you.

What's in a Voice?

While we have already gone through the personal sound of your character's voice, what does it actually sound like when they are speaking? When describing the voice of your character while they speak, allows the reader to hear what they can only read and offer a clue how the character is feeling in the moment.

Absent-mindedly: When a voice betrays one’s distraction

Booming: When a voice is loud and carrying.

Breathy: When a voice is peppered with breathes.

Brittle: When a voice betrays a strained mind or fragile sense of mind.

Clear: When a voice is devoid of anything to obstruct or conceal it.

Deep: When a voice is low pitched.

Flat: When a voice is devoid of pitch or emotion.

Gravelly: When a voice is rough, croaking like when one just wakes up.

Guttural: When a voice is rough, coming from the back of the throat.

Harsh: When a voice is unkind and hard.

Husky: When a voice is rough.

Monotonous: When a voice is unvaried in pitch, all in one tone of voice.

Muffled: When a voice is obstructed, such as when the mouth is covered.

Nasally: When a voice sounds like it is coming from the nose, often sharp.

Piping: When a voice is high-pitched, almost sing-song.

Raspy: When a voice is dry and rough sounding.

Rich: When a voice is pleasant sounding to the ear.

Shrill: When a voice is high-pitched.

Silvery: When a voice is clear, soft, and musical.

Soft: When a voice is quiet.

Sonorous: When a voice is deep in sound.

Thin: When a voice is strained, with uneven pitch and tone.

Throaty: When a voice comes from the throat, often rough and croaky.

Tremulous: When a voice is shaking.

Velvety: When a voice is smooth.

Warm: When a voice is comforting, gentle.

Weak: When a voice lacks any strength.

Whispery: When a voice is low, hushed.

Wobbly: When a voice is unsteady.

Avoid the monologues if you can

Nobody can really have a conversation with somebody when that person is rattling off about themselves or their dastardly plans etc. It's not really realistic but in fiction, we kind of want to allow characters to do on a little, to let loose and bare their soul in a speech worthy of Peter Dinklage's best work (Laws of Gods and Men, GoT Season 4). Personally I only give somebody monologuing a few minutes before I interrupt with the good old "that's crazy" or multiple "yeah"s. A character has to be captivated - or captive - to listen to somebody keep talking, talking, talking.

Interaction

Again, your characters are meant to be real people, they are not robots on stage. When people are talking, it isn't perfect. When emotions are high, people will often cut across one another or interrupt one another. When characters are excited or in agreement, they might finish one another's sentences. The dialogue in The Bear, is fantastic for this as the interactions feel real. The characters interrupt one another, talk over one another and finish each other's thoughts. People follow a pattern of talking with people they know, they are less guarded and more prone to speaking their mind if they are comfortable with them or know what to avoid saying. People are more formal when speaking to strangers. People will speak differently to different people, there are things you can only say to your sibling and you wouldn't talk to a classmate you barely know the same way you will speak with a dear friend. The way character's interact can tell the reader a lot about the relationship between the characters.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Waking Up in Vegas"

Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.

Saint-Tropez wasn’t just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didn’t care about consequences or anyone else’s rules.

And you? Well, you were done with rules.

For the last two weeks, you’d been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.

You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.

Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.

God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.

You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.

You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"

What a creative name!

You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.

You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."

He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.

Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.

Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,

"Good morning." - Jason

"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason

"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason

Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,

"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"

Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.

Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.

Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.

Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".

Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.

"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason

You ignored him of course.

The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.

Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.

The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?

Just because he apologized and said he'd change?

Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.

For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.

You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.

He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.

You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.

Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.

Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."

All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.

You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"

Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."

You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.

Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.

By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadn’t even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didn’t care. You've never felt so alive.

Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.

You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others you’ve met along the way. No one cares about where you’ve been, where you’re going, or who your family is.

As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and you’re ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly you’re lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.

The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.

But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.

London.

You’re sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.

You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but it’s all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.

You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.

There’s a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. “Hey, you good?”

You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.

Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.

Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.

The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.

You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.

The “No Boys Rule” was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, you’d end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new

Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you weren’t living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.

It wasn’t just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.

You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.

The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.

The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.

Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night before—flashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the freedom you’d found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.

there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the world’s richest men tried to get your attention.

First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruce’s voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasn’t about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.

It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life you’d left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadn’t anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldn’t drink away.

You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldn’t let him win. Couldn’t let them see that you’d needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.

You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.

Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. They’d played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.

Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce… well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didn’t even bother reading it all. You didn’t need to. You didn’t care enough to respond.

You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.

You didn’t even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasn’t already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.

You didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.

The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didn’t have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss he’d stolen.

Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family you’d abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.

But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didn’t matter. You didn’t owe him anything. But you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.

You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldn’t afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.

You couldn’t let them control you. You wouldn’t let them.

You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.

Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.

So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gotham’s grasp.

From there, it was off to the next city.

Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldn’t even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.

You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldn’t even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didn’t care.

He didn’t seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrity’s secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldn’t even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didn’t matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.

Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europe’s clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.

This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.

You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.

“we’ve got to live for the moment,” Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. “Who cares if we’re in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? It’s the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?”

Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibiza’s elite. You weren’t sure how many shots of tequila you’d had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didn’t matter. You were untouchable.

It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadn’t stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Duke’s yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldn’t remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl you’d only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.

It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, who’d never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.

The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.

He smirked, “Care for another round?” he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.

You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.

Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didn’t just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.

The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the world’s elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasn’t about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.

You didn’t even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monaco’s coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didn’t care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.

You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: “Come party with us. No rules. No limits.”

Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a conversation that didn’t involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.

As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the city’s most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.

It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.

There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didn’t realize you were his daughter.

You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didn’t need them. You didn’t need anyone.

But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how you’d never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just… empty.

You didn’t know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you weren’t going to be the same person who had left.

The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.

A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.

You turned to find a prince—probably from denmark—standing next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.

His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?

You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.

"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.

After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.

You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.

Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.

When you went back to Gotham, you weren’t just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.

As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.

When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasn’t sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.

Taglist:

@strwberryglass @lilithquillete @delias-stuff @bellatrixmld @damainwayneisthebestrobin @kittzu @lilyalone @yokesmam @sanjisluvbot @facelessisnthere @dollwhite @superstarbucks

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[grison-in-space]

Hello!

Since my elderly cat just died, I’m starting to bat around the idea of seriously training an at-home service cat. Pesterbot, routine nudges, maybe as much grounding pressure as they can give me (time for a big fluffy boy?), and if they pick up on med-alert cues, great.

I’ve chatted with the local rescue already - I figure I want one cat whose early life and temperament have set them up for secure attachment and assertiveness, and another to be a buddy for them, ok if they’re more skittish of humans. Ideally ~6-8 mo so the adult personality has started to show but I still have some relatively early socialization window.

Any thoughts on rescue vs breeder, breed, how to look for a breeder who *actually* values temperament and health, the odds of known ancestors and a known-good early life making that much of a difference? I’m liking the look of the forest cats (especially NFCs and Siberians) but also, $$$$ (though with a purebred cost is probably just something to plan for)? Or anything I’m missing in thinking through this?

No, I think you've hit just about everything that occurs to me. With a purebred cat(s), you're dealing with a history of selection that might be a little curtailed, which means you'll want to look for genetic disorders known to run in that line of cats and also that you will want to cross-reference opinions from multiple people in the breed if you can. With a rescue cat, you're looking at a whole lot of unknowns that can be really hard to predict, especially with respect to temperament at maturity.

I am not sure that NFCs or Siberians are the best temperamental range for that kind of work, though: you want an opinionated and socially oriented cat, and my understanding of the reputation of the forest cats is that they're like... slightly more active Ragdolls? I'd ping in @pangur-and-grim and @followthebluebell for assessments of breed temperaments. You're also going to want a relatively active cat who is interested in watching what you're doing and responding to your environment: remember, you'd be paying this cat to come interact with you when you're stuck / when an alarm goes off, and you'll have the most success with that if your cat likes thinking and moving with you.

This is also the sort of cat my spouse and I like best--active, bold, interested in interaction, easily bored--and we've been eyeing up some potential purebred options as well as considering rescue after, well, my last rescue kitten developed severe pica at around six months. That's less likely to happen to you with a 6-9mo adolescent kitten--I got Arthur at 10 weeks and he was obviously neurodivergent in some way by then, if only by virtue of his blindness--but it was pretty catastrophic for his ability to have unfettered access to me, for example.

From my perspective, the biggest benefit of purebred cats are that a lot of the cat breeds have selected clearly for specific ranges of temperament over time. It's definitely going to be easier to find someone else going "a bossy, energetic cat who wants to be Interacting With You frequently? boy howdy, I'd love that!" among the ranks of, well, Serious Cat People.... which includes a lot of cat breeders, but not a ton of cat owners. A lot of people seem to pick cats based on color, proximity, and kitten cuteness, which still blows my mind a bit coming from dogs!

I can tell you straight up that the best way to pick a rescue cat by temperament is to (ideally) aim for a foster based rescue, contact an adoption coordinator directly, and explain that you are looking for a cat based on personality rather than based on looks, that you're looking for a fairly high-demand cat, and ask them if any candidates come to mind. (My experience is that not caring about appearance and being open to cats which are not very young kittens motivates those coordinators to think of their favorite individual cats to suggest.)

You could also look for local cat trainers in your area--a specialty that is getting increasingly popular! look near veterinary behaviorists or cat-only vets--and see if they have recommendations, since they probably have a lot of experience with high-demand cats and people who invest a lot into their cats in your area. Basically, find yourself a way to talk to people who have interacted with a lot of the cats locally up for adoption, especially because the ideal temperament for a service cat is not necessarily going to be everyone else's cup of tea for a pet cat.

I can tell you that a big chunk of the people I have found actively breeding for that kind of temperament are involved with the various wildcat cross breeds, particularly Bengals (which is where I'd start rather than Savannahs or Chausies, personally: it's easier to find F5+ individuals, especially if you're looking for people who are really interested in breeding for trainability). My sense with the purebreds based on my reading is that Abyssinians or, if you can find them, Havana Browns might also be worth a look.

Consider if and when approaching a breeder or rescue: what are you going to do if one or both potential cats wash out of service work? Would you rehome them and try again? (To whom?) Would you keep them as ESAs and add a third cat? The natural concern that a lot of people will have about being approached for a service animal, especially one like a cat, is "what happens if it doesn't work out?" I think your plan is to go "well then I still have pet cats," but that should be clear to your potential cat sources, too.

But anyway, that's why I tagged Greer and Bluebell: both of them have way more personal experience with cat breeders and purebred cats than I do, and I think they'd be good resources if you want to aim in a more purpose-bred direction.

[kick-a-long]

I find thinking about the future a good way to visualize making it through the current shit storm. We all will take seriously hard hits, this period will be a stain on America and destroy many lives, but if you make it though 4 years it’s very possible that things will start to heal.

I think that it’s very likely that four years of being president will drain an elderly trump and he might not try for another Jan 6th. Without trump, there’s no one who can step up. Elon wasn’t born in America THANK GOD so the GOP will be a cult of personality with no personality to gather around.

The dems (if they stop being fucking idiots) will probably put up a centrist white dude (prob a vet from the Midwest since that’s where they’re losing ground.) considering that leftists don’t show up to vote and liberals are going to spend four years looking at the aftermath of allying with rat fuckers, the world might look more like the political climate we had in the 90s. Trans rights, voting rights, and gender rights will be the focus while civil rights and religious freedom will remain fucked by contrast (at least to the extent that trump will be able to fuck it.) the Court always drifts to the left but realistically it will take 8+ years and probably only flip to three lib v 5 or 4 cons with 1 or 2 swing votes. This could be ok if centrists from both sides work together, tell the radicals from both sides to fuck off, and pass some much needed upkeep legislation to stop America from falling apart.

Idk how accurate this will be but it’s a possibility and it’s better to plan for the kinda good near future than start putting together your end of days bug out bags. Realistically there is a good chance that this horrifying chapter of American history has an end date. 4-8 years is a long time, a long way away, but let’s treat it as if we will get there.

Vote in local elections, avoid letting your personally and politics be dictated by social media platforms infested with bots and manipulation, read the actual facts of what a plan is instead of the hundreds of think pieces written about how it’s the best or worst or goes too far or falls too short.

Get real and get smart. The end times fantasizing is what got us trump. It’s time to be ok with liberal incremental progress again. Drop the thought crimes and start talking about what you actually believe regardless of all the people/bots/political cultists it pisses off online. They don’t have to buy your groceries or pay your bills. Thinking these are end times is a good way to abdicate responsibility. We have 40+ years of rebuilding to do.

[mattheoriddles-sluttt]

Doubles.

Pairings: Mattheo X reader X Theodore

A/N- guys, nobody knows I write smut in the back of all my classes it’s getting out of hand.

Word count- 566

————————————————————————

“ff- fuck! Yes!” You moaned shamelessly as your boyfriend Mattheo was two fingers deep in you going at a relentless pace.

You were completely bare laying vulnerable in his bed as he lay next to you, his muscles flexing as he pounded his fingers deep in you. He was wearing a plain tee shirt and his boxers.

“That’s it baby, come on..” he mumbled as he worked his hand faster and faster, hitting ever deep part in you, ever nook and corner as he curled his fingers. The pleasure you were getting from this was unimaginable as your orgasm was getting closer and closer.

Just when you felt like you were about to hit the peak, you heard the door open and Mattheo’s hand stilled, you heard a gasp come from the door frame and you both slowly turned to look at the door to see who could have possibly walked in just to see none other that Mattheos best mate Theodore. You had always known Theo had a small thing for you so you scrambled to cover yourself as to not make things worse for him, but just then mattheos other hand shot up and grabbed your wrist to stop you from pulling it up..

“No, let him see you.” He grumbled.

“W-what actually?” You said in shock.

“You know you like it slut.” He said in a firm tone.

And you did like it, you liked it a lot actually, as you looked up at Theo, suddenly Mattheo’s hand started moving again at a brutal pace, immediately causing you to let out a deep guttural moan. Theo shut the door behind him and slowly walked in, dropping on his knees next to the bed.

“Touch her.” Mattheo gruffly demanded.

That made Theo look up at you to make sure it was ok, to which you could only nod as if you tried to speak it would all be stuttering and whimpers.

Theodore reached up and caressed your body, his hands sliding up and down your body, making you whine at his cold hands. He reached up and started playing with your boobs, pinching, rolling, flipping. All of which only doubling the pleasure you were feeling making you squirm.

You felt yourself clenching around Mattheo’s fingers so he looked down at Theo.

Theo reached his hands away from your boobs and went down slowly, running his cold hands down your stomach and stopping just above your clit. He looked up at you, seeing a look on your face that was like you were holding back a noise. He slithered his hand lower and took his middle and ring finger and started circling your clit, making you grip the sheets and howl out a loud moan-whimper

“Ff-fuck! Fuckfuckfuck yes just like that- AUGH! don’t stop!”

Your noises and pleads made both boys smile as they kept going, you felt yourself clench around Mattheo’s fingers one more time before you came all down his fingers, whimpering a sigh as you did. Mattheo slowly pulled his fingers out of you and put them up to Theo.

“Go on, suck them.” Mattheo demanded Theodore.

Theo hesitated but eventually leaned forward and took Mattheo’s fingers in his mouth, licking as sucking all your juices off of them. You watched as you lay there breathless, the scene almost making you want to go again.

This would definitely be happening more often.

————————————————————————

Guys I need them both so bad. I can take all 20 fingers.🙂‍↕️

[lycheeloving]

Little fic about Bruce Wayne x a socially anxious reader! Bc I have social anxiety and wanted a relatable reader <3 Well. Partially relatable. I had to make them braver than me, to actually talk to Bruce in the first place lol

This is the first chapter of 3.

You're freaking out. Great.

Why did you come to this party again? Just because you happened to be one of the lucky random citizens to get invited? Because you didn't want to seem ungrateful? Because you were hoping that just once, you could manage to actually talk to others and have fun?

Yeah, well, that didn't work out. You're standing outside on a balcony, doing breathing exercises.

Actually, are you even allowed to be out here?

Fuck. You startle yourself out of your calm breathing and start sweating despite the cold.

You saw other people out here before you came here, so it should be fine! Unless only specific people are allowed here, or people are only allowed here at specific times?

You turn around to look at the door, but don't find any "do not enter" signs there.

Don't trust your anxiety thoughts! You're allowed to be here! Unfortunately that doesn't make you feel any better.

You turn to look at the skyline of Gotham again, hoping that that will calm you down.

How long have you been here, would it be weird to leave already? But you'd have to walk through the crowded room to get to an exit... Is there a backdoor maybe?

Just as you start googling the layout of the place you're in, you hear somebody else walk onto the balcony. Dammit. You hope they're just here to smoke and that they'll ignore you.

You stare at your phone. No results, the layout isn't available online. Makes sense, that would probably be a major security risk. Still sucks for you.

Maybe you should try those breathing exercises again. How did they go again? In for 4 seconds, hold for 3, out for 9, right? No, wait, it's in for 6, hold for-

"Are you ok?"

That was probably directed at you, but you're not in the mood for conversation. Especially a conversation about how you're feeling. Yikes. Maybe they'll take the hint if you just ignore them.

You look at your phone again, looking up how you're supposed to breathe when you're anxious.

You should honestly just leave. Do the busses run this late? If you have to call a taxi you might actually pass out.

Or if the stranger doesn't leave. Unfortunately they're allowed to be here. Probably. Unless nobody is allowed to be here and oh fuck, are they here to throw you out? No, probably not, calm down. Either way, nothing you can do. Just breathe.

"Not a big fan of parties, are you? Don't worry, me neither." The guy leans onto the railing right next to you, but you don't look at him.

Can't he just leave you alone? Fuck. Whatever. Your anxiety is already bad, how much worse could it get by talking to some rando?

Besides, you came here to try and fight against your anxiety, you should at least have one conversation.

"Uh, no. I'm not a party person. At all."

That's all he asked you, right? You hope you didn't forget half of his question.

"So why are you here?" Why does this guy have so many questions? What does he care?? Ok, calm down. One conversation, then you'll leave.

"I was one of the lucky random people to get invited. And I thought, well, maybe it wouldn't suck? And that it would be a good opportunity to—" To do something that helps you work on your social anxiety. Maybe don't tell that to a total stranger? You trail off.

"—to... Um. I don't even know. I thought maybe I would have fun? Maybe?" You try to smile, but it ends up being more of a weird grimace, directed at the floor. Off to a good start!

"Not to be rude, but you don't look like you're having fun." Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

"Maybe you should have brought a plus-one then, huh? Then at least you wouldn't be alone out here. Unless you did bring one and they abandoned you, of course... I hope that's not the case. Would be typical of me, bringing up a sore topic..." He did! But not in the way he thinks.

"Can't bring a plus-one when you don't have any friends!" Your tone sounds a bit more annoyed than you want it to.

"Oh. Well. Um. See? This conversation has been so short and I've already said something stupid. This is why I escaped onto this balcony, actually." He stops talking to take a deep breath. "Well, one of the reasons."

At least he doesn't seem super socially adept either. That makes you feel a bit better.

"It's fine. Whatever." You scratch at some dirt that's stuck to the railing. "Just, um, if you were trying to get away from the conversations, why are you talking to me?"

"Well, you looked like you weren't having a good time, so I tried to distract you, even if I'm not sure that really worked out." He shifts next to you, taking a break from talking as if unsure what to say next.

"And I have to admit, I might have followed you out here. Ok, I did follow you out here. Because I saw you, and thought you looked interesting. And beautiful. So I wanted to get to know you."

What?? He must be joking. You stick out like a sore thumb in your cheap clothing, and you've been acting awkward ever since you got here.

You finally look up at the weirdo who was apparently actively seeking you out, seeing his face for the first time. Your eyes widen.

That's Bruce Wayne. The guy who's throwing this party. Are there hidden cameras anywhere? You really should have left the party as soon as you started panicking more than normal, then this wouldn't have happened.

Why didn't you recognize his voice? You knew you should have watched that stupid puppy interview the internet has been raving about, then you would've known what he sounds like! How come you've never heard him speak before! Stupid elusive billionaire that only appears on video once in a blue moon...

"I'm Bruce, by the way." He smiles at you with his stupid, pretty, charming smile. Ugh.

"Yeah. Uh. I figured." At least you recognize his face. That would have been even more embarrassing...

"So... What's your name?" He's still smiling at you. Fucker. You reluctantly give him your first name.

"Wanna get out of here?" Your eyes widen and you take a step back. Woah. Is he propositioning you? You feel a bit flattered, but also, absolutely not. No way. You can't even really talk to him without panicking, how are you supposed to—

"I didn't mean—" He grimaces. "Not like that! I just meant, let's get some food, talk, something like that. I didn't mean to come onto you like that! Sorry. Too much, too fast. We could also just stay here and I'll get some food from inside? Super casually, no strings attached, just friendly conversation. So we can get to know each other a bit, because like I said, I think you're interesting. The most interesting person at this party by far. What do you say?"

Fuck. Sure. Whatever. You are kind of hungry and didn't want to touch any of the food here with all of these people staring at you, even though it looked very tasty... And Bruce seems nice enough! And, again, anxiety training. Yes, you're scared, but just this once, live a little!! Don't run away! Even if that's what your body is screaming at you to do.

"Um. Uh. S- Sure?"

After asking what kind of food you like, to which you just answered "Oh, um, whatever.", Bruce started squirreling away one of every food that's at the party to your little balcony. You won't touch some of it, because you are a bit of a picky eater, but you're not telling him that. Maybe you should have. Oh well.

Bruce even pulled the curtains indoors shut, so nobody will wander out onto this specific balcony. Cool! One less thing to worry about.

Then you start talking. He asks about what you do for work, your hobbies, what you're interested in... Just anything that he can think of.

At first you're reluctant to open up, but then you realize: You'll never see him again.

You can treat him like a therapist! Except of course that you never really told your therapists about anything, because you had more appointments scheduled with them, meaning you couldn't just avoid them after. No thanks!

But where would you ever see him again besides on TV, or maybe a paparazzi picture of him and a model in a shitty magazine? You never go to rich people places! Except for right now, but it's not like you'll be invited to the next party, and even if you are, you don't have to show up!

And if he tries to ask for your number or anything, you can just say no. Easy. (But also, what are the odds he'd even do that? What reason could he have to want to talk to you again? He's just trying to avoid the party.)

Talking to Bruce Wayne is basically like venting to faceless strangers online.

This is fine. This is good, actually.

Anxiety training with no consequences. Fine. You can do this.

You probably open up a bit too much, in between bites of delicious food, if you're honest. Whatever. That's for future-you to regret.

You tell him about your job at the bookstore, how you would have asked one of your coworkers to come with you tonight even though you're not close to any of them, but didn't know how to bring it up and also remembered that you lied and told them you have friends, and didn't want them to question you about why none of your friends can come with you instead.

About how you don't really have any hobbies besides sitting at home and maybe watching a show or a movie, or scrolling on your phone.

About how you only came today because you knew you had to try to do something against your anxiety disorder or at some point it would get so bad that you'd never leave the house again. And now you're even having a conversation!! A conversation that includes personal information about you!!

He tells you about himself as well, but you're so nervous that you don't really remember anything for longer than a minute. At least you remember long enough to keep up the conversation, even if you're probably acting awkward. Sorry, Bruce!

But you do also talk about other stuff, nothing personal about either of you, your opinions on this and that, and actually get along pretty well.

At some point the bat signal appears in the sky and you say that you're never sure if it's comforting to see, because it means that Batman is out there to protect people, or that it's scary, because it means that there's a reason that Batman is out there, meaning you could get hurt.

Bruce nods absentmindedly, then checks his phone and says that he has some business to take care off, but that he had a wonderful evening with you, really. You wave at him as he rushes away.

You can't say you're sad that the evening ended this way, as you spent more time with him you started worrying that he really was going to ask for your number or to see you again... This way, he didn't even get to ask your last name! No need to worry about having embarrassed yourself in front of someone you'll see again, just about the fact that he could tell the press about you, but he literally has no reason to do that, right? He wouldn't do that, shut up anxiety.

You leave the balcony a bit more confident in yourself than when you entered it.

Maybe next time you'll try this with someone you might even see again! But, baby steps. This was really good for a first step, though.

You mentally pat yourself on the shoulder as you make your way through the now thinned-out crowd towards the exit. This evening was a success!

Now as a reward you'll spend the rest of your night on your couch, scrolling social media while half-heartedly watching TV.

[calicooken]

✧˖°. 𝐌𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 & 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

✧˖°. The continuation from this post

✧ There are some thoughts that I would like to share regarding his character & some controversial topics about him in the main story

1. “MC sees him as a brother”

From what I have explained in his past timeline in previous post, MC clearly developed a crush on him growing up and she sometimes hints her own jealousy with him in some past memories. So up until the explosion I think MC does has feelings for him but didn’t wanna cross the line they have build and vice versa

After the explosion I think MC slowly started to accept the reality that he is gone. She went on to find the truth about herself. She made a new relationship & went on a mission with 4 other lis. Until she met him again in the current chapter. you can feel some tension in their interactions that clearly has a romance undertone in them. Another interesting thing here’s also when she met Zayne. He seems way more warm with her. He even flirted with her and asked her to go on a date with him next time they met. This really proves the development in her relationship with all of them. and with Caleb that she knew since day 1. The feeling is there.

I’m not gonna talk about the incest allegation because like, are we tired at this point? In Asian languages we use the same words to call our own family members to someone who’s close to us even though they’re not blood related. The fact that these people refused to learn about the Asian contexts when consuming Asian content is just plain ignorant.

2. His ‘yandere’ behavior in the main story

First thing first, as much as I want everyone to see the good side in him. We cannot deny that he’s written to fill out this trope. The developers clearly made him to be the character that is flawed and morally grey. There’s a market for this type of character and they knew that he would not be for everyone. So if you cannot vibe with his ‘Yandere’ tendencies at all no matter how much you tried then it’s completely ok. He’s not for you. it’s fine

I personally don’t really favor this kind of trope myself. but what makes Caleb work for me is- The reason behind it, how he developed all these tendencies in the story. It just make sense for me

Number 1 is his ‘over-protectiveness’ towards MC. I also felt the ick at first. But after experiencing his past I get it.

Imagine you being a child and the first memory you have is other people using you as an experimental subject. probably seen as a weapon of some sort alright? then, you probably never experience love and care from any adults ever. You also probably went through all the tortures and hell during the time in the lap. All of these make you lose your own identity and never develop the will to live as a normal human- and may I add, as a 9 years old child. Then one day when you got rescued from the lap. you met this cute kid that also got experimented on like you, maybe even worse. But because she doesn’t remember anything, She remains soft and so full of life - she holds your hand with all the love and tenderness you’ve never got from anyone in your life before. It's like nothing bad that happened in her life could really affect her pure heart. You see this kind of light and feel the need to protect it. - That’s how Caleb formed his own identity and the reason to live growing up, He never wanted her to turn empty inside like him.

Caleb grew up spoiling MC rotten like I said in his past timeline. For someone who’s already numb from any emotions. The only thing that keeps him feeling alive is taking care of you, doting on you, making sure you’re always safe and sound, making sure nothing bad could ever happen to you. YOU are the only thing that matters to him.

Number 2, His red flag behavior in the main story in which… kinda lead to the next point

3. “I don’t feel safe around him/ I don’t trust him”

yeah duh, we are not supposed to. I think that’s the direction Infold want the player to feel in this chapter

and I’m with everyone here, when I read the story I don’t feel safe at all. I think we kinda thought the same thing ‘Sylus come pick me up, I’d rather be in the N109 Zone right now’ lol. But when I take a step back and think about it I do have some thoughts

The reason why we as a player feel safer in the N109 Zone is because Sylus rules the area. You knew from the start that this man is REALLY powerful. EVERYBODY is afraid of him. nothing can really touch him. We also kinda have an idea that he’s not a human from the start.

Caleb is not like the other 3 lis (Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus) who are some kind of immortal or deity.Sure his evol is really powerful and he’s really strong but at the end of the day he’s just a man. And with all the shits he has been through he realizes that he’s not invincible. he doesn’t have a privilege to not make a choice. whether it’s an ethical choice or not. and he’s trying the best he could to make sure you are safe. even it ended up making us players hate him in the process.

I do also think that unlike the N109 zone, Even Caleb himself doesn’t really feel safe in skyhaven. He’s also an imposter, a pawn to be used by somebody way more powerful than him. and He knew that letting you out and about freely is highly risky. With all the incidents that happened in the chapter & MC involvement kinda pushed him into fight or flight mode.

When we feel really, really unsafe about something in our lives, especially related to something we cherish the most, what do most of us tend to fall onto? The need to control. We instinctively try to control situations and things to make us feel safe and predictable. Sometimes we try to control things that we will later regret about it. Caleb is in full survival mode here.

── .✦ In conclusion

With all that being said I still do not agree with what he did to MC in the main chapter. He made a mistake, He owes her an apology tbh. But seeing the full picture did help me understand him more + In the next few 5 star cards that happened after the main story he appears to be really guilty towards her. MC being MC she easily let it go and doesn’t demand an apology from him (which I think he would get on his knees for her if she asks, I mean are you kidding? He would do anything for her. the down bad is so strong here)

Their story is definitely not for everyone. there’re a lot of improvements to work on in the future. The first thing is how they both need to learn to untie the co-dependency they have had since childhood. MC needs to set a healthy boundary with him and be less reckless. Caleb needs to respect MC to take care of herself and trust her ability to handle things.

 When we look back In the latest muti-banner, the nightly rendezvous for other lis. all of them have their own development in the relationship.

Xavier finally confronting his possessiveness and MC addressing it to him

Zayne finally letting go of his ‘compose’ and ‘perfect’ facades and letting MC see his inner-child side more

Rafayel finally opening up about his fear & pain he had gone through to MC

Sylus… being Sylus lol (on his card it has to do with MC’s development more than him, so)

all of these took a pretty long time. So with Caleb I’m sure we will see some issue in their relationship being improved later.

(Even some might say. "Nope, he doesn't need fixing" with that I would say "Good for you" 😌🤌🏻)

[ipushhimback]

you mean papaya?

pairing: lando norris x reader warnings: none words: 1.8k summary: Y/N is cisca’s bsf who invites her for dinner with her siblings

When you started university, you were scared as fuck. You had just moved to another town and left all your friends and family behind, so you were completely alone.

But on your first day of uni you already met another girl who didn’t have any friends around. Cisca. She was great and together you somehow managed not to get lost on the campus and you actually managed to pass all your exams.

One day ,when you were both studying at a café, she invited you over for dinner.

“You just have to come! Please. My sister and my brothers will be there and I cannot survive a whole evening with them. Pretty please!” Cisca looked at you with a pout.

“Ok. Ok. Are they nice? Your siblings?”, you asked, scared what you got yourself into.

“I promise they are. My oldest brother, Oliver, he works with my dad and he is always super protective and everything. The other brother, Lando, is a racing driver. We don’t like him because he never let’s me drive his cars. And Flo does show jumping. You know, with horses. I don’t know why she likes that but ok. They are all really nice, they can just be… a lot sometimes.” Cisca looks at you expectantly. “So… I didn’t scare you away, did I?”

“No no. Don’t worry. So your brother is a racing driver?” You didn’t know a lot about motorsports. You watched a couple Formula E races when they were shown on tv and you didn’t know what else to watch but that’s it.

“Yeah he is on Formula 1. Lando Norris. Never heard of him before?” Cisca had a surprised look on her face.

“No, I did not. Formula 1. Is that like Formula E?” Now your friend just raised and eyebrow and looked shocked.

“Girl, never let Lando hear that. He would throw you out of the window. It is similar to F1 but definitely not the same. There are a couple differences. Why do you even know Formula E?”

“Ran out of tv shows and a race was on. It was a nice background sound to clean the apartment to.” You shrugged.

“Well, no talking about Formula E around Lando, ok?”

You just nodded, looking absolutely confused.

“Good, is there anything you don’t like to eat? So I can make good dinner”, Cisca asked you curiously.

“I am a bit of a picky eater… But it is ok I can eat everything even if I am not a fan of it. I am like a six year old. Doesn’t like any food but usually eats it when the are visiting someone”, you answered laughing.

“Well, that’s no problem at all. Lando is like the pickiest eater existing. He doesn’t eat fish, for example. He hates it. Even if food was only near a fish, I promise you he won’t eat it.” You laughed as Cisca told you that.

“I already like your brother! But I am pretty sure he is worse when it come to food than me. I can eat fish. I am not a huge fan of it but it is alright.”

“Ok. Do you like lasagna?”, Cisca asked, praying that it would be something you would like to eat.

“Yeah, lasagna is good. I like that”, You answered smiling and heard Cisca let out a sigh of relief.

“Good, lasagna it is. Tomorrow at 6pm is good?”

You simply nod.

“Yes, see you then!”

***

You knew you were fucked. You had looked up photos of Lando Norris and realized you shouldn’t have done that. He was hot. Like really really hot. Always when you see a man with curls you fall for him immediately.

So now you were standing in front of your closet looking at your clothes, not knowing what to wear. Would the black dress you loved so much make you too overdressed? And the pullover with the jeans? Would that make you underdressed?

Should you ask Cisca? She could help you probably. But wouldn’t that be super embarrassing if you asked her what to wear because you thought her brother was hot?

Fuck it you thought after a second. She already knew you were weird. After two rings, Cisca answered the phone.

“Hey, what’s up? Please don’t tell me you won’t come.” Your best friend looked seriously panicked.

“No no don’t worry. I’ll be there. What are you wearing?”, you decided to just ask.

“Huh? Sweatpants and a hoodie? Why the hell are you asking what I’m wearing?” Cisca looked at you through the phone as if you were completely insane now.

“I don’t know what to wear! I need a dress code! Please Cisca, I beg you, help me!”

You just heard your friend laugh loudly.

“No one will care what you wear. You can come in sweatpants like I am wearing or you can wear a prom dress. I don’t care.”

You stared at Cisca through your phone trying to figure out if she is kidding but you were pretty sure she is being serious.

“Cisca. You are no help. Like at all. Help me please!” You were now practically begging her.

“Why are you so stressed about what you are going to wear now? We are just having dinner with my siblings. What’s the problem? Wear comfortable clothes and that’s it.” Cisca sounded a little annoyed by now. Understandable.

“I looked up your brother on google and he is damn hot! Please. Help me!” You couldn’t say more as all you heard now was Cisca laughing on the phone. “Cisca! I am serious!”

Eventually, your best friend calmed down a little and helped you pick out a simple outfit. Your favorite jeans with a top and a warm zipper because you were always cold.

***

An hour later you were standing in front of Cisca’s door and already heard chattering from inside. You rang and a few seconds later, a young woman opened the door.

“Hey! You must be Y/N! I am Flo. Cisca’s sister. Come in.” You stepped inside the apartment. You knew your way around already as you have often been here before to study with your friend.

“Nice to meet you.”

You went to the kitchen where you heard the voices coming from and were greeted by Cisca who was standing in front of the oven checking on the lasagna and a young man leaning on the kitchen isle you knew – thanks to google - was Lando.

“Hi”, you simply said. What else are you supposed to say when you are standing in front of famous and rich people? Seriously when you saw their net worth on google… let’s just say you felt even more broke than you already were.

“Hey!”, Lando exclaimed as he saw you. “Nice to meet you! Cisca said you couldn’t decide what to wear when you found out you were meeting me!”

This little-

You just laughed as you forced yourself not to run out of the apartment again.

“Nice to meet you too…” You glared at Cisca who just laughed.

“By the way, Oliver won’t be there today. The whole family got sick so they stayed at home”, Cisca said and you nodded.

You saw how Lando was literally staring at you and you raised your brow. Not that it was bad but why would Lando Norris look at you like that?

“Let’s sit down to eat, shall we?”, your friend asked as she saw that the food was ready.

You nodded and sat down on on of the chairs around the table as you saw Lando sitting down on the opposite side.

You felt a little uncomfortable knowing that Lando was sitting there and you eventually would have to look up at him. Why did she feel like she was 14 again having her first crush. This was stupid. So, so stupid.

“So, Y/N. Are you into motorsport?”, Lando asked you.

“Uhm, no. Not really. Watched some Formula E race things because it was on but that’s it. I liked the orange from some of the cars though.”

Lando looked at you as if you were completely insane so you started wondering if you did something wrong.

“Formula E?”, he scrunched his nose. “Orange? You mean papaya?”

Now you were the one being confused.

“Ehm… maybe? If papayas are orange?”

The only thing you were now hearing were Cisca and Flo wheezing from laughing so hard.

“Lando drives for McLaren in F1. It is papaya”, Flo explained.

You nodded even though you were still confused as fuck. Why did it matter if it was orange or papaya? In the end it was still just orange…

Finally Cisca and Flo placed the plates with lasagna on the table.

“This smells delicious, Cisca!”, you said.

“Thank you. I tried and I think it could be worse.”

The dinner passed quickly with neither of you talking a lot. You were all too busy eating the lasagna that was really good.

Then, Cisca and Flo cleaned the table and put the plates in the dishwasher.

“So, Y/N. You study with Cisca, right?”

“Yes, we do. That’s how we met”, you answered.

“That’s cool. And you really aren’t into motorsport?”, he asked again as he was still confused how anyone couldn’t like it.

“No, sorry to disappoint but I am not really into it. I don’t even have the time to watch it with uni.”

Lando nodded.

“Hm. Maybe I will have to invite you to a Grand Prix at some point. I am sure you would like it. Maybe Monaco. Anyway, what are you into then, if not Motorsport.”

You thought for a moment.

“Reading. That’s pretty much it. Like I said, I don’t really have tome for anything else. Sometimes I watch tv shows in the evening. And when I have more time I like baking”, you said smiling which made Lando smile as well.

“Sounds nice.”

***

The evening was over quickly and you found yourself feeling more and more tired.

“Ok, I guess I will leave. I am really tired and tomorrow’s first class is already at 8 am. It was nice getting to know you two.”

Lando looked at his watch.

“I will go as well. I am really tired. It was a long day. Bye.”

You two made your way outside.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N”, Lando said as you stepped in the cold air.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

You noticed Lando looking at your lips.

“Can… can I kiss you?”, he asked softly and you nodded without even think about it.

He placed his hand on your neck and leaned forward to press the softest kiss you ever got on your lips.

You felt your thoughts stop and only felt his lips – that were really soft, does he use chapstick? – on yours.

Lando pulled away only a couple seconds later.

“I have to correct myself. It wasn’t just nice to meet you. It was the best thing that has happened in the last couple of months.” A/N: thanks to being sick i finally had the time to finish writing this (and finally finished reading a book yayy!). part 2 to this story?

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