#Ok but what if youre the only one working

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[msfbgraves]

First of all, does he think there were no non US news outlets filming that day? Filming footage he does not own and can't erase? Does he really think nobody in the US speaks any other language?

Whether or not he manages to erase the salute in American eyes, it's going to be pretty obvious that you are in a Nazi country anyway. What with the book banning, censorship, deportations, the mysterious deaths of any disabled people who were first institutionalized to receive "better care"; they will call this "heart failure", because "executed by lethal injection after having their organs harvested" makes people iffy. You won't be able to claim their bodies, that will have been "cremated per their request". Trump already says the disabled should just die, and beware, there's a lot of scientists who will want mandatory testing on bad genes before you'll be allowed to breed; maybe the sterilisations will become mandatory. A shame, but maybe better this way, people will agree. It's in God's hands. Or maybe your gay friends will be re-educated in a remote location now. Maybe if they just restrained themselves? Monitoring of your whole life will be mandatory but if you have nothing to hide you'll have nothing to fear! Then there's the paramilitary militias, and the mass firings of POC or maybe for some reason, they'll come for the Amish. But as long as you go to work and keep your head down, things will be OK. Watch what you say. Swear your personal allegiance to Trump. Things will calm down eventually, won't they, and you never watched Drag Race anyway. Or Queer Eye. Or Kpop. And no, it won't kill you to buy American....

Oh shit, birth control is illegal now. Now listen, you don't wanna rock the boat, but it isn't a good time right now. No, you have nothing against government. You're not like that! You've reported someone to ICE just last week! It's only with the quota on female employees, you're not bringing in enough. No - You're not - listen you're not like ... You simply have a problem. Just - no! You're a good one. You just need - wait. Fuck. Fuck! Does anyone know - you'll pay of course. What? Busted? Officer, there's been a mistake!

You're gonna notice with or without seeing this, peeps!

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[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!)

[artsninspo]

Richmond Inc.

♠ summary: Terry Richmond is your boss, and the illustrious CEO of the worlds best and most elusive private security firm. Only he didn't get to where he is now by being nice. As attractive as your boss is, you find it difficult to swoon for the green eyes giant when he is perpetually unpleasant and demanding.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Black Reader

♠ word-count: ~1.1 K

You look away from the light eyed adonis not wanting to get glamoured by his green eyes. Your coworkers swoon and you wonder how it’s possible for them to forget his chronic dissatisfaction and scathing temper. Running a tight ship is the understatement of the century. The former military man sure acts like he’s still on assignment. If it was up to you the last place you’d be is under his smug gaze as he details what's gone both wrong and right about the last assignment. He has no business being as mean as he is. His size alone is grounds for him to be more cautious and gentle with his employees. with. Anyone who’s as tall as he is with a body built for combat should always be careful to be considerate.

“Y/N” his baritone voice calls drawing you from your thoughts.. Looking up your eyes meet his for the briefest of moments. You consider quitting in an instant bracing for him to rip you apart for some infraction.

“Sir?” You respond.

“Great work, the logistics were perfect” he says and it’s high praise coming from someone who rarely acknowledges great work with praise”. Eyes dart away from him to you and you force a casual smile.

“Just doing my job” you nod hoping he moves on. The debrief continues and you recognize the clamouring to impress him and for his attention. It’s not in you to placate anyone least of all a man that’s so stern all the time. Looking at the clock your body settles knowing relief is soon. For all the boss’ faults punctuality and timeliness isn’t one of them. His phone alarm sounds signalling the end of the meeting and you stand first. Your male colleagues stand too but a couple of your female colleagues take their time. 

“Y/N I’d like to see you in my office in five” he says.

“Ok” you respond heading to the bathroom first. When you’ve relieved yourself of your nerves you look in the mirror and practice a detached but engaged expression. When you fail to convince yourself of the contrived demeanour you sigh silencing your phone and making a mental note to find a new job. Grabbing your tablet for work you enter his state of the art office with seconds to spare. His eyes shift rom the clock to you and he holds out his arm signalling for you to take a seat. You oblige.

“How are you?” He asks.

“Fine and you?” You ask not missing a beat.

He nods, smiling slightly. “Good” Impatience flares in your expression and his smile deepens as he looks down at the paper on his desk. It’s an odd sight to see him smile for anyone other than clients.

“Your reviews are stellar. Both your team and directors have glowing reviews for you. Your end of year compensation will reflect that” he says and your excitement flares.

“I do my best” you respond in acknowledgement.

“There will be a vacancy in the director slot and everyone tells me you’re good with people. Are you interested in being on the ground?” He asks.

“No” you don’t even have to think about it. It’s most of your colleagues' dreams. To rub elbows with the who’s who of the world in need of private security. A few of your former female director colleagues are now kept women to filthy rich businessmen.

“No?” He seems surprised.

“No thank you.” You correct, not wanting to draw his ire. His thick brows furrow as he looks at you confused. You only manage it seconds before looking away. He sits back in his chair and you look anywhere but his eyes.

“Would you prefer another position?” He asks but all directors work closely with him. Even from your office you’ve heard him ripping into them on several occasions for mistakes. Director means his personal pawn. It means two am pick up times and calls at all hours of the day and night. Family strain and inconsistency for everyone who isn’t the job. It means he has full control over you, your decisions, company, medical history, romantic partners and every other significantly private thing.

“I’m quite content where I am now” you respond honestly.

“Is it the compensation? If it’s unsatisfactory there is room for negotiations” He explains but  you don’t think there could ever be a number to justify what that position would do to your nerves.

“I can do my job well enough now. My confidence in my abilities isn’t the same for a director position. I can’t commit to more hours or the sporadic demands. Nor am I interested in the travel aspect. My hours now with occasional overtime is what I can manage. I don’t ever want to underdeliver and I know I would as a director” you lie and his skepticism is proof he’s not buying it, at least not fully. 

“I can think of few things more compelling for a young woman than international travel with every luxury” he says.

“You’re the furthest thing from a young woman” you mutter, speaking out of turn. Thankfully his eyes light and he seems more amused than annoyed. He reaches for his glasses taking a file from the folder organizer on his desk. He swipes his clearance fob over it and light flashes into his eye before the file opens. The way his muscles contract for the simplest gestures is sinful. He studies the papers flipping through them and then looks back up at you.

“Is it the dog?” He asks, revealing he’s looking into your file.

“Pardon me?”

“Your dog, is that why you don’t want to travel or take on the promotion?” He asks. You’re the reason. You think to yourself, but it's hardly an appropriate response. “Or has something changed in your personal life?” He pries acting like it’s within his authority. 

“I have nothing I want to flag or discuss” you respond succinctly. Mr. Richmond nods and removes his glasses before putting the paper back into its folder, locking it and setting it back into the organizer. His notifications sound and he checks his luxury watch. He’s so fucking fine. You swallow knowing he’s probably the worst with women.

“You’re free to go” he says dismissively, back to his asshole ways. 

“Good day” you respond but it seems to make him flinch slightly.

“Good day” he responds and you leave.

Author's note: i'm trying to be better about hoarding drafts. So here's a little Aaron fic for the girls 🖤 how do we feel about mean terry? don't forget to ❣ Like, ❝ Comment, ↺ Reblog ☑vote on the polls

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993

[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.

[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"

[tateypots]

The Shower

18+ MDNI

Pairing : Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader (sorry no Tommy in this one).

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Ok so I'd like everyone to take a second to appreciate the amazing new Collared moodboard/banner (not sure of the correct terminology) that was sent to me as a gift by the completely wonderful @aurorawritestoescape/@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog. I think we can all agree that it's totally awesome!

I'm so insanely touched that she took the time out to create something so beautiful for my story and I thought as a thank you I would drop an extra little Collared chapter.

When I was writing the last chapter (before the story got away from me and derailed all my plans) I actually drafted out a version of the shower scene that Joel tells Tommy about. And as the bare bones were already drafted I have fleshed it out to be it's own chapter. So this will sit between Surrender and Uncle Tommy's Mistake. I hope you enjoy.

Please note that the moodboard is for aesthetics only, reader is never described past having boobs and a vagina.

Warnings: Non-con, dark!Joel, kidnapping, Daddy kink, talk of squirting (Joel not really having a clue how it works), restraints, joint showering, oral (f!receiving), masturbation (m), cum eating.

Part 5 | Part 7 | Series Masterlist

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You awaken from your nap to Joel pulling out of you, your pussy aching at the prolonged stretch of having him inside you. A small whimper escapes before you’re even fully aware of what is happening.

“I know baby, I know. It’s a lotta cock for your little pussy to hold inside for so long hmm?”

You nod against his chest, still fully lying atop him “yes Daddy.”

Joel’s cock throbs at hearing that name fall from you with such ease after months of resistance. Before he can get carried away he rolls you off him onto your back on the bed and gets up with a groan.

“Need to clean us both up baby, you made a big mess,” he tells you, basking in the memory of your little pussy squirting all over him. He was surprised how arousing he’d found it. It was never something he’d given much thought in the before but fuck, how he’d enjoyed knowing he’d pushed you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

You pull your knees to your chest and tuck your head in, aiming to make yourself as small as possible, raw with vulnerability after finally surrendering yourself to Joel.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t mean to,” you whimper, worried you’re about to get in trouble, “I don’t know what happened, I’ve never wet myself before. I’m so sorry Daddy, please don’t be mad at me!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, crouching down to tug your face up to look at him. “I ain’t mad at you baby, you made Daddy so happy with what you did. C’mere,” he sits on the bed and drags you into his lap. “You didn’t wet yourself baby, you squirted, you know what that means?”

You shake your head timidly at him as he strokes your arm and you sink into his embrace. He wasn’t entirely sure on the mechanics of it himself but seeing your confused little face peering up at him the urge to soothe you burned through him, even if he had to bluff a little in order to do it.

“Well, you know how wet your little pussy gets when Daddy’s makin’ you feel good? Well some special girls, like you, when they feel especially good, their pussies can squirt out some of that wetness. That’s why it made me so happy baby, showed me how much you were enjoyin’ yourself.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to reply, not really sure what to make of what he was telling you, still unsure as to whether to be embarrassed or not. It had felt really good but you couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed by your body again. You had started to bare yourself emotionally to Joel, still a little scared and unsure but it seemed like your body was refusing to hold anything back. It would not keep any secrets from him.

He watched your face scrunch up as you contemplated his explanation. God he loved how innocent you were. You’d clearly led a very sheltered existence pre-outbreak and now he got to teach you everything you’d been missing out on. His cock throbs again at the thought.

He placed you back on the bed, getting up and disappearing into his room briefly and returning with the key to your collar.

“Come on baby, lets take a shower, get all cleaned up.”

He kept a hand tight around your bicep as he unlocked you. It’s not really necessary, there’s no way you’d attempt anything. You couldn’t beat him in a fight. And even if you were fast enough to slip away from him you wouldn’t survive long outside, naked in the freezing temperatures. And that’s without the added complication of also managing to slip past Tommy. But Joel refuses to take any risks with you after all the progress he’s made so his grip remains tight and bruising.

Guiding you into the bathroom he sits you down on the toilet, closing and locking the door behind him before turning on the shower head and waiting for the water to heat up. Once it was warm enough he guides you under the stream before climbing in after you.

You relax in the heat of the water, enjoying the comforting patter of it on your skin as Joel hastily washes himself behind you. Before long you feel his big soapy hands on you, making sure he captures every inch of skin on your back half before pulling you back into his chest to reach around you and repeat the process over your front. His hands linger on your breasts, squeezing and massaging softly before tweaking the nipples. You moan at his ministrations, pangs of arousal shooting to your core, so pleasurable despite your poor, abused pussy aching with every pulse and throb. You feel Joel harden behind you as his hands drop lower. He pushes your top half against the wall, bending you slightly at the waist and takes the shower head from the bracket to rinse off your seam. This is typically the point of your shower that whichever brother has the job of washing you would fuck you hard against the tiles. You brace yourself for it but instead Joel replaces the shower head and kneels behind you, planting a kiss on each ass cheek before spreading them to inspect your pussy.

“She’s all red and swollen baby. She sore?”

You sniffle out a quiet “yes,” hoping he’ll take pity on you. And he does in a way.

“Don’ worry baby, Daddy’s goin’ to kiss this all better.”

Before you can even question what he means he starts placing soft little kisses on your pussy. You startle at the contact, a shocked little cry escaping you.

“Daddy what are you doing?!” you gasp, unable to fathom why he would want to put his mouth on you there.

“Mmm baby, Daddy needs a taste of you,” he mumbles into your folds, continuing to leave kisses around your entrance and over your lips.

“Daddy it’s dirty!”

“Ain’t dirty baby, bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet. It’ll feel good baby I promise, just trust Daddy k?”

He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly easing his fat tongue inside you, swirling it around before retreating and pressing in again. You can’t deny it feels incredible but you can’t help but feel uneasy at this new form of debauchery you’re being introduced to. Your head spins, the pleasure and the anxiety at war within you.

“I was right baby, you are fuckin’ delicious,” he babbles before pushing into you again.  

He slowly tongue fucks you for a few minutes and in the recesses of your brain you register how tender he’s being, how careful he is not to worsen the ache caused by his cock. He’s being kind to you. That thought alone has your heartrate soaring.

He withdraws his tongue from inside you and kisses his way down to your clit. You moan at the sensation of his tongue gently laving over it, swirling around it in ever decreasing circles before starting the maddening circuit again.

When he feels your clit start to throb under his tongue he starts alternating his little licks with softly sucking the swollen nub between his lips. It doesn’t take long for the pressure to build within you. He can see your poor little pussy clenching around nothing and with a shudder and a cry you come for him. His tongue abandons your little bundle of nerves when he sees your arousal starting to leak out of you. He gently circuits your entrance before easing the hot, wet muscle back inside of you, careful not to waste a drop of your sweetness.

With a groan and a final kiss to your clit Joel detaches himself from your pussy. Standing he turns you to face him and pushes you to your knees. Gripping his angry, leaking cock in his massive hand and stroking it with urgency.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out baby.”

You hesitate for a beat before following his instruction. He growls at the sight of you on your knees for him, mouth ready and waiting. He can’t wait for the day he can sink into the wet heat of it. But he’d promised Tommy. Promised that Tommy’s cock would be the first in your mouth. This would have to be enough for now.

With a moan his balls tighten and ropes of his hot seed spurt over your face and tongue. You try to flinch away but Joel catches you with his free hand keeping you in place

“Keep that tongue out baby, be a good girl, stay right there.”

With a grunt he finishes emptying his balls on your tongue.

“Ya look so pretty all painted baby,” he tells you as he gently rubs his thumb over your cheekbone, smearing his cum over your skin.

“Now, swallow.”

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Please let me know if you’d like to be removed from the tag list.

@aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @oldloganslittleslut @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @axshadows @justajoelsreader @ahintofkiwistrawberry @guelyury @rosebuds-and-moonlight @koshkaj-blog @shivispunk @ivoryandflame @tammythr @magpiepills @megjohnston23 @ad23900

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Sky fall"

ok yall I did get a little inspired! Lmk how it is! I know its not what some of yall wanted but this is how I wrote it! Everything is coming together now! Sorry if its confusing <3

Tiffany’s footsteps echoed through the abandoned warehouse, each one measured, confident, as she strode deeper into the dimly lit space. The walls, once intimidating in their desolation, now felt like a stage set for her triumph. She was certain of herself, this was it. She had manipulated them all, pulled the strings, and now, with the Batfamily’s most sensitive intel in hand, she was untouchable. They would never see it coming. She had convinced herself that the web she had carefully spun was impenetrable.

But tonight, Tiffany was walking straight into a trap.

She paused at the center of the room, eyes scanning the surroundings with a practiced ease. The flicker of lights overhead seemed almost theatrical, as if signaling the grand performance she was about to claim as her own. Her fingers tightened around the sleek metallic briefcase she held—inside it, the false intel she believed would seal her victory. She had rehearsed every step, anticipated every move. But there was one thing she hadn't accounted for: the Batfamily’s silence.

They were everywhere, but they weren't moving. Not yet. They were waiting.

From his position in the shadows, Tim watched through the Batcave’s live feeds, his eyes cold and calculating as he traced Tiffany’s every move. The family had worked tirelessly to set this up—baiting her with fake intel, feeding her just the right amount of information to guarantee she'd take the bait. She had, without fail, walked right into their hands.

Tim’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Every signal, every encrypted line of data, it had all led to this moment. His chest tightened with the weight of his resolve. This ends now.

He didn't need to say it aloud. They all knew what was at stake. This wasn’t just about protecting Gotham, or the family’s secrets. It was about you. It was about taking back what Tiffany had stolen from you. Your life. Your identity. Your place in this family. Every single person in that room understood that this wasn’t just about a spy. This was personal.

“Now we finish this,” Tim’s voice rang through the comms, calm but with the sharp edge of finality.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick as smoke. Bruce, standing silently with his arms crossed, stared intently at the screen, his jaw set like stone. Dick, ever the optimist, now had no room for jokes. His usual playful nature was gone, replaced by a grim focus. Jason, less patient, was practically vibrating with anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His gaze flickered between the screens and the door, his body coiled like a spring, ready to explode.

Damian was the quietest of them all, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched with fierce intent. His mind was only focused on one thing: her.

The trap was set, and now it was time for the family to act.

Suddenly, from the corner of the room, a figure emerged, cloaked in darkness, stepping forward as silently as a shadow. It was Dick, moving with fluid precision as he approached Tiffany from behind. His voice came out low, dangerous. “Thought you had us all fooled, didn’t you, Tiffybear?”

Tiffany froze, her body tensing as she spun toward the sound of the voice. The briefcase slipped from her grip, clattering against the concrete floor as her eyes met Dick’s.

"Dick! Hey! What are you doing here? I thought I said I wanted to be alone." Tiffany asked, her tone clipped and annoyed.

Dick’s voice was almost mocking, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “You never had a chance. You just didn’t know it yet.”

From all sides, the rest of the Batfamily moved into position, emerging from the shadows, closing in.

Tim’s voice cut through the silence again. “You thought you could replace her, Tiffany. Thought you could take what was hers and make it your own. But you were wrong.”

Tiffany’s eyes darted between them, confusion creeping in as the weight of the situation began to sink in. Her lips curled into a sneer. “What is this? You can’t—”

“We already know,” Jason interrupted, stepping forward, his presence like a storm rolling in. “You’ve been feeding information to our enemies. Stealing. Lying to us. Pretending to be someone you're not. And all for what? To replace her? To become her?” His voice trembled with rage, each word fueled by the months of anger, the betrayal, and the crushing realization that someone he had trusted had been working against him all along.

Tiffany’s composure faltered, her eyes flashing with defiance. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve always been here, helping, supporting—”

“You’re a liar,” Tim spat, stepping forward. His gaze was unwavering, every ounce of anger and frustration channeled into his words. “You stole everything from her. Her identity, her life, her place in this family. And now, you're trying to replace her. No more games.”

Bruce’s voice, low and steady, cut through the tension. “We gave you a chance. We treated you like family. And this is how you repay us?”

Tiffany’s eyes widened as the gravity of the situation hit her all at once. She took a step back, her breathing growing erratic. For the first time since she’d entered the room, doubt crept into her expression. The confidence, the arrogance that had once defined her shattered before their very eyes.

“This ends now,” Bruce said again, his words as cold as steel. He motioned to Dick, who moved to secure Tiffany’s exit, blocking her every attempt to escape.

Damian’s voice, soft but filled with a dangerous edge, broke through the noise. “You think you can erase her? You think you can take her place? You think you can get away with this? Jail will be the least of your problems soon” He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with intense focus.

Tiffany recoiled, as if he had struck her, her eyes flickering between the Batfamily members who had surrounded her. This wasn’t the victory she had imagined. This wasn’t the moment where she was crowned the perfect replacement. This was the moment where her lies crumbled, and she realized how deeply she had miscalculated.

Her hand shot out to grab the briefcase, but before she could move, Jason was already there. His grip was iron-tight as he snatched the case from her. “I think you’ve lost your audience, sweetheart.”

With the briefcase secured, and no escape left, Tiffany turned to face them all, her mask of composure slipping as panic began to seep in. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” she spat, her voice trembling. “I’ve been working with people who can destroy you all. You’ll regret this. You’ll never get away with it.”

“We already have,” Dick said softly. “You’re done.”

The family, united, stood in the silence that followed, their collective presence so overwhelming that Tiffany felt smaller than she ever had. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The Batfamily has finally seen through her. The game was over.

And in that moment, Tiffany realized that she was never in control.

She had never been in control.

They were.

As the family closed in, ready to bring her to justice for the harm she had done, Tim’s fingers hovered over the keyboard one last time. The Batcave’s monitors flashed again, but this time, it wasn’t encrypted files or hidden surveillance. It was a signal, one that would send Tiffany straight to the authorities, where she would finally face the consequences of her actions.

This was the end of Tiffany’s game.

And the beginning of the Batfamily reclaiming what was rightfully theirs.

Tiffany had underestimated them. She had underestimated the family.

Now, it was time to make her pay.

The jet’s wheels hit the tarmac with a soft hum, the quiet after the hum of engines almost disorienting. You stretched in your seat, flexing your fingers, aware of the long flight that had left your body restless, but you could already feel the change in the air. The tension. The suffocating weight of everything happening around you.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t get attached again, that you wouldn’t let your walls down. But there was something about Alfred’s letters that made it impossible to resist, something about the quiet, steady affection in his words that still clung to your memories of the Manor. You’d gone through all the motions, pretending like you weren’t angry, pretending like you didn’t resent the family for abandoning you, for believing the lies.

Yet here you were. Looking for closure and chasing love.

As the cabin doors opened a gust of cool Gotham air rushed in. It wasn't refreshing, it was as if the air held something dark and heavy that clung to you. The world outside was still dark, the city a blur of towering lights and shadows stretching across the skyline.

The car ride to the manor was a blur, it was as if your body was on autopilot the whole way. Alfred had sent a car to get you, thankfully the driver didn't insist on small talk.

Your stomach was filled with dread and you thought of asking the driver to take you back to the airport, Ariel and her family wouldn't mind if you came two days earlier than expected. You knew that, but your feet wouldn’t let you. The pull of the manor, even after everything, was undeniable.

The long drive up the winding gravel path to the front gates felt like an eternity. It always had, but this time it felt different. Almost like time was pushing you forward, faster than you were ready to go.

When the doors of the manor finally loomed in front of you, all lit up like a beacon in the night, a deep breath caught in your throat.

It wasn’t the same. Not anymore.

The family wasn’t here, at least, not all of them. It was strange, like stepping into a house full of ghosts and memories. You couldn't shake the feeling that things had shifted in ways you couldn’t yet see. But you were about to find out, weren't you?

Alfred was the first to greet you, of course. His warm smile, the familiar twinkle in his eyes, felt like home. He wasn’t perfect, he had his flaws and he also brushed you off for the imposter, but there was no one else who had ever been as constant, as unshakeable in your life.

“It's wonderful to see you. I trust your ride was pleasant?” Alfred asked gently, as he took your luggage from you and wrapped you into a gentle and warm hug. His voice, though calm, held something you couldn’t quite place. It was the way he always spoke when there was trouble brewing underneath the surface.

You bit back the rush of emotion threatening to spill out. The hurt you felt after he just allowed Bruce to exile you. You could feel the eyes of the manor on you, too many memories to process, too many ghosts to acknowledge. "It’s good to see you, Alfred," you said, and even though the words were kind, your stomach twisted with an unfamiliar unease.

Alfred never made you feel this way before, what changed?

He nodded, glancing briefly at the front door. "Master Bruce has been expecting you," he said, and though it sounded almost casual, there was something in the way he said it, something cautious, like a warning wrapped in politeness. "If you'd like, I’ll have your things brought up to your room."

Your heart dropped, Bruce was expecting you? Since when did he stay up late to wait for your arrival? Did Tiffany say something? Did he find you finsta? Your tik tok??

You shook your head, masking your unease and licking your suddenly dry lips. "No, it’s fine. I’ll head straight to the study, it must be important and it won't take long hopefully." You said almost reassuring yourself.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. It was clear he knew better than to ask more. He simply offered a silent nod, stepping aside to let you enter the familiar grand hall.

Every step echoed as you walked through the long corridor, your shoes clicking on the polished checkered marble floors. The place looked untouched, the same lavish decor, nothing changed so why did it feel different? It felt like a time capsule, but you felt distorted, twisted in ways you didn’t quite understand yet.

And then, when you reached the study, the door was open an invitation, though not warm. Your heart picked up pace as you crossed the threshold.

Bruce sat at the large desk, his posture tense, the shadows of the room stretching long against his features. His eyes lifted from the documents in front of him when you entered, but there was no immediate anger in his eyes or anything hostile; so what did he want if not to scold you?

“You’ve made it. I hope your trip was pleasant.” There was a bite to his words, something you couldn’t place, but his eyes never wavered from yours. You realized then that something had shifted in him too. Something had changed.

"It was good. How've you been? Busy? Your phone fixed yet?" you asked coolly, crossing your arms, eyes narrowing slightly. A jab at him for never answering your calls and texts.

Alfred had mentioned that Bruce was expecting you, but he hadn’t said why.

“You could say that," Bruce responded, leaning back in his chair, his steely gaze never leaving yours. "But now that you’re here, I think we need to have a conversation."

Your false confidence was shaking and you were reduced to a scared child standing in front of her all-powerful father. You couldn't handle being blamed for anything or pushed aside for Tiffany anymore.

You faltered, the tension between you both palpable. "About what exactly? I haven't done anything wrong."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached for the large monitor beside him, flicking a few buttons. The screen lit up with files, encrypted footage, and images you didn’t recognize at first glance.

You could already feel your pulse racing. This was about to get interesting.

"About Tiffany," Bruce said, and the very mention of her name made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t explain. His eyes never left you as he clicked the first file open. “I think it’s time you knew the truth.”

You felt a sick satisfaction knowing you were right all along, that you figured out what The Batman couldn't.

As you watched the first videos, you couldn't stop yourself from scoffing, this wasn't anything new. You knew Tiffany was a spy, but as the videos continued, your skin began to crawl.

Tiffany walking into your room at night and coming out with arms full of things you thought you lost.

Tiffany following you into the library and reading all the books you read. Imitating everything you did.

What really made bile rise to your throat was the last video, there Tiffany was, in the laundry room sniffing and wearing your dirty clothes.

You stood in front of Bruce, frozen and naesous, waiting for him to speak.

" You knew Tiffany was a spy, you told me of how she treated you, and I brushed you off and called you a liar; for that you have my never ending apology and regret. However, there are things about her that even you didn't know." Said Bruce standing and walking toward you, his eyes were different from how they usually looked. Usually cold and unforgiving, they now held remorse and regret, and if you didn't know better, love.

He gently grabbed your hands and turned you toward him, "I'm sorry. For everything. I am the world's biggest fool for how i've treated you these years."

That was all you wanted to hear for years, those sentences healed the cracks in your heart but your eyes burned with tears and you quickly took a step back; snatching your hands from his calloused ones, "Sorry changes nothing." You bit back, suddenly feeling a rush of anger and hurt that gave you confidence.

Your father sighed and took a step back, "I know." He said looking at you with longing.

You turned your head, acrylics burning and digging into your crossed arms. You couldn't bare to look at him, he looked pathetic when he pulled that face. He looked like you. He looked at you in the same way you looked at him all these years, longing and desperate for love.

"Is that all you wanted to say?" you asked faking nonchalance when in reality you couldn't wait to get in your bed and cry.

Bruce sighed again, "No. I need to explain why we all reacted that way to her and we need to talk about your own special.....abilities."

For the next hour, you sat with Bruce in his study, closer than you've ever been, as he explained who Tiffany truly was and why she was able to fool everyone. Your mind was running a million miles per minute as he spoke, it all made sense now.

Why Tiffany had that effect of the family, why she was so popular at school, why she was there that fateful night when you were bit.

Tiffany was working with an unknown organization, PATIENCE. She was planted into your school years ago to observe you and figure out how to infiltrate the Family. She was able to deceive everyone because she was also bitten by the snake but her body couldn't take the full transformation so her abilities were weaker than yours and mutated. She was able to release pheremones that intoxicated the mind, you weren't affected because you were immune.

She was there that night because she was also on a mission, a mission to kill the snake but it ended up escaping and biting you.

PATIENCE was working with the Joker on a one time partnership, they would give the Joker intel on Batman's plans in exchange for him allowing them to bring drugs through Gothams ports.

The situation was handled now, of course, but it was a miracle you survived the bite.

By the end of the conversation you were exhausted, but had never felt that relieved. Everything made sense now. You looked at Bruce only to find her already staring at you and your eyes watered once again. He had a reason for the Tiffany situation, but what about all those other years?

As you both got up, you to go to your room and sleep, and him to go to the Batcave, Bruce gently pulled you back.

In the middle of the hallway, he brought you into tight hug. He towered over you and buried his face into your hair, muttering apologies almost deleriously; and as you felt hot tears fall onto you, you wrapped your arms around his waist and began to sob into his chest.

"I hate you." you said your voice muffled and cracked,

"I know." He replied, voice soft and tears still falling yet refusing to let you see him cry.

"I don't forgive you. This can't change the past." You said sobbing even more yet leaning into his hard, toned chest.

" I know." He replied again somberly and more composed now.

As you parted ways, you could feel his eyes on you, willing you to look back.

You didn't.

That night you slept like the dead, your chest felt lighter than it had in years. When you woke the next morning, you felt hope for the first time in years. Maybe Bruce could redeem himself, not anytime soon, but someday. He had to work for it first. Prove he changed, buy you a birkin in every color and a house in every country and then you would think about letting go of the past.

As you walked down for breakfast in your linen pants and your ex-boyfriends NYU sweatshirt, all hope you had faded. You were so caught up in Bruce's apology that you forgot about the rest of them. And there at the table in the grand dining room sat Bruce at the head of the table with everyone of your siblings surrounding him, all chatting in hushed whispers and immediately going quiet as you walked into the room and sat in the only unoccupied seat right in the middle.

Bitterness filled your heart as you realized they were probably talking about you.

You were seated next to Damian and Tim with Duke and Jason across from you. As soon as you sat Alfred brought out the food, Cinnamon roll pancakes, your favorite along with all your favorite sides. All the tension left your body as you beamed and dug into the food, eyes rolling back as you tasted heaven.

No one spoke, but Jason smirked fondly, Damian rolled his eyes and Dick beamed, Bruce looked interested and Tim just stared creepily from next to you.

You blushed as you noticed everyones eyes on you, and suddenly your mood was ruined again as Duke caught your eye and chuckled "Some things never change huh? You loved these, remember that time-"

You pushed your plate away from you, grabbing a piece of french and cut him off coldly "No, no I don't." Your feelings were still hurt from his betrayal and he thought you could go back to normal? To before Tiffany?

His face fell and he opened his mouth closed it, simply looking away sadly.

"He hasn't even said anything! Why don't you let him tell the story, we all want to know!" Said Stephanie enthusiaticaly from next to Jason.

Who does she think she is? Why does she assume she's entitled to your happy memories? After everything she's said and done? After everything they all said and did?

Blood rushed to your head, your teeth burned and sharpened and and you couldn't stop the scoff escaping you. "Literally who was talking to you? Mind your own fucking business, I really don't give a shit about what you want. Or any of you really." You say standing up angrily and almost throwing the plate in her face.

The hall went silent as everyone stared at your standing, hostile form. Jason looked entertained, Cassandra was shocked for once, Dick looked frantic and concerned, Barbra's mouth was opening and closing in a fish like manner, Steph looked like you stabbed her, even Tim looked taken aback, and Bruce simply stared at you.

It was Damian that really set you off, he pulled your elbow attempting to sit you back down, "There's no fighting or cursing allowed at the table. Stop whining and sit down and finish your pancakes. This display is pathetic." He said arrogantly rolling his eyes at you in his fancy pajamas and messy hair.

You hadn't help that anger in years. HE was lecturing you about whining and fighting? him? That's rich. You don't know what came over you but you don't regret a thing.

You harshly pulled your elbow out his grip and decked him.

Straight.

In.

The.

Face.

You'd show him what fighting at the table really was. Your punch knocked him out of his chair and you heard something crack and heard everyone gasp, rushing out their chairs while you hissed and grabbed your favorite pancakes and shoved them in his stupid, similar looking, arrogant face. You punched him again for good measure and for fun. You were reaching for the syrup to pour on him when Tim tried to pull you away so you decked his scrawny ass too.

Honestly, the moments after were a blur but somehow you ended up in your room with Jason standing in your doorway hours later with chicken nuggets and a smirk.

taglist:

[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.”

[lustlovehart]

Ok so i just read a ask with a similar idea of my last one.

The difference would be like… more like a sudden swap, rather than a ‘they were always there’ like the one i just saw.

In case it wasn’t understood what i meant, i meant it like this:

MH!reader is in their world with monster!twst boys. M!reader is in their world with MH!twst boys. For some reason, the two are swapped from their respective places.

Cw: Monster Reader eats people while getting interviewed

I think in this case, MH!Reader is sightly relieved. This is great! The monsters you have to kill are gone and replaced with humans! Humans who you can reason with, and have a conversation with common sense. Though, you’re a little curious as to where they’ve went…

You… can’t help but feel a little unnerved the more time you spend with them… You think.., You’re starting to miss the monsters…

The biggest difference I think this would cause however, is your relationships with Jack and Rollo. Those two are humans you’ve lived and worked with for a long time… So why are they confused seeing you? This is what leads to the inner conflict if they were to suddenly swap; You would start to piece together your Rollo and Jack, aren’t the kind of people they told you they were.

Overall though, it starts great until it divulges into scary territory when they start asking you where your ‘monster features’. You leave their questions in silence, but once you finally get fed up with the, admitting it’s them who were the monsters and not you strikes a sudden interest…

You might change your occupation to be a baker instead at this point… There’s virtually no difference between their affection for you, only that they murder monsters now and aren’t crazy powerful. Though… murdering humans too seems like something they would do also… So you’re practically just seeing the same guys but as humans.

On the other end though, the sight of you not as a monster, is certainly an interesting one.

M!Reader’s struggle isn’t nearly as grave. Now it’s just, “Aww man, now I have no food AND freakier men😞😞” (their craziness is still the same, they just got the ability to do monster stuff now).

You’re definitely just trying to eat a random guy you caught in the forest before one of them are interrupting you meal, gushing about how similar you look to their [Name]. They’ll go on and on about them, interests, favorites, they’re all the same as yours, except they don’t eat human you guess, or do ghastly beast stuff.

The unnerving monster stare doesn’t work on them, just like your guys… It’s disappointing. They’ll lean even closer into you watching each bite of the poor guy you take.

“You’re just like those humans…” it has them all quirk a brow but before they realize it, you’ve faded into shadows. They piece together what you meant when they enter NRF and find pictures of their human counterparts and their spoils, news articles talking about their feats, heads of different monsters, photos of their mortal selves actively hunting beasts like them, but, The most important one of all…

Is your monster variation printed as the top bounty rather than themselves.

Overall, whether it’s humans with monsters, monsters with monsters, or humans with humans, the fact is, you somehow never fail to attract their attention, unfortunately for you.

[i-got-zapped]

Ok, look I get it. As someone who works in the lab, who works with blood and blood products, and specifically the American Red Cross, I know the general population doesn’t know shit about what I do, and doesn’t give a shit about what I know. If there is only one thing anyone can take away from this post, it is this: DON’T FUCKING LIE ABOUT YOUR BIRTH SEX IF OR WHEN YOU DONATE BLOOD. There are different antibodies and antibody expressions depending on if you are male or female. If the ARC has to start scanning blood products to find rare antibodies, your blood could be improperly included and wasting resources, or improperly excluded and have life-saving blood products missed out on. If you have ever been pregnant, that can cause stronger reactions with other blood types and antigens than if you had been a man. Just don’t lie to medical professionals.

so i'm joining the stem cell registry and donating blood regularly now, because i like, should. and it's been a good process and they're very nice. but as i was signing up for things, it had the box for sex at birth. Which is kind of an insane question. not "what hormones does your body primarily run on". but just... sex at birth. something that is not remotely relevant for blood donation, and also extremely misleading??

they check your red blood cell count when you show up. if I told them my sex at birth was female they'd be fucking horrified by my count. testosterone does shit to the blood! It is so much more relevant to know that my body runs on testosterone! i keep seeing medical fields doing this.

i think that they assume it's nicer, somehow. they don't just ask sex anymore, they just go haha please tell us what you were called as a baby :) we're doctors so we need to know, it's important :)

except it's not. at all. it is more ethical for me to lie to the blood donation centre so that they don't see my blood and flag it, when it is perfectly good blood for people with more testosterone.

i have to go to a throat doctor next month. they specifically asked for my sex at birth. there was not an option to tell them what they should actually expect from my voice and body. when it asked me to list medications, it physically wouldn't allow me to list testosterone, and it flagged it.

it's nuts, because all these places have actually been really welcoming and cool about me being trans, but the actual system is horrific, it's just forcing me to out myself by having to reach out after to correct it. because answering honestly is medical misinformation.

anyway you can just fucking lie i guess

[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.

[yorshie]

sees your requests open and slides in like a penguin on ice 🧊

possibly showing off a new swimsuit in front of the turtles in hopes it gets Raph's attention because every other hint you've dropped has gone wayyyy over his head (...or so you assume) 👀

showers you in love and sparkles!!! ✨️💕🫂

Kkkkkeeeeeiiiiisssshhhhhhaaaaaaa. *clings to you like a wet noodle*

I scrolled all the way down to the bottom of my requests and gasped when I saw your name. >:3. I gladly shower in the love and sparkles, and hope you forgive me for the amount of silent pining I’m about to shove down everyone’s throat. lol.

Bay Raph x fem reader (I think the only gendered terms are two pieces bathing suit but idk does that count in 2025? Question mark? Idk I’m tired)

SFW

Ok. Breathe. You can do this.

The mid-morning sun cut through the lacy curtains and across the tiny vanity surrounding the sink. The bathroom you were holed up in was better suited for the sixties, with the chair rail topped with faded, flowered wallpaper and the worn floor that couldn’t quite hide the handmade nails driven in to hold the boards in place. You knew plans had been made and then discarded over and over concerning updating it, but no one could quite agree on how to update it, and hardly anyone came up to use the little bathroom cooped up at the end of the hallway to be reminded about it.

Which was precisely why you were holed up in it now. Even though the door hadn’t locked for years, it was the safest place to hype yourself up.

You were failing miserably.

“You got this,” You told your reflection for what felt like the hundredth time, gaze flicking down below your chin before resolutely jerking back up to your face.

A second ruled by your thundering heartbeat, before you gave in. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

It’s just a bathing suit. You reasoned with yourself. Just a bathing suit, modest even for two piece standards if you were being honest but…

God, it….. it was so red.

The exact same shade of red as Raph’s bandana.

You’d hunted for that exact shade of color, of course. You practically had it tattooed to the back of your eyelids, had lost countless hours imagining what the feel of that bandana would be like under your fingers if you were only brave enough to reach out.

You’d contemplated it, once, when leaning against the back of the couch while bantering with Raphael. Had thought about just… reaching out, twirling the nearest loop of fabric about your fingers and wrist like it was something commonplace, something you were allowed to do-

But your bravery had deserted you the moment Raph had looked over his shoulder at you, eyes crinkled soft in silent laughter, relaxed and carefree in the conversation. Something you had thought impossible when you had first met him.

You couldn’t have handled it if that soft look had disappeared, if the armored walls he had slowly lowered during the time you’d known him snapped back into place.

You stared at the red bathing suit again, tugging on it gently in the hopes it might cover up more perceived flaws, like it might answer your unspoken questions, like it might give insight on whether or not this would work.

None of the other things you’d chanced to show Raph how you’d felt had worked, after all.

You wanted… You just wanted to show him…

You let out a pained, warbling curse, head dropping to rest in your hands as you contemplated sneaking back to the room you were sharing with April and pretending you were too sick to go downstairs.

A heavy knock sounded on the door, a muffled voice quickly to follow. “Hey, princess, ready to go?”

You startled, badly, tripping on the worn, warm rug laid out in front of the claw footed tub and having to catch yourself to keep from going completely ass over tea kettle into the cold porcelain.

It hurt, no matter what, slipping on the rim and sliding into the hollow, swim suit bottom riding up painfully on the descent.

Raph called your name out in question while you internally panicked, staring at the door while dread coiled oily and dark beneath your sternum.

”I’m- fine!” You called back, wincing internally when your voice cracked in a lie between the two words.

Evidently Raph heard the tell as well. “uh, huh. Yeah, sure. Try that again, peaches. You good?” There came a testing rattle of the doorknob, and your heart leapt. “You didn’t fall, right?”

“Don’t-“ you struggled to get back on your feet, hands and hip slipping on the tub with a loud squeak when your skin stuck to the cold surface. “Don’t open the door!”

The testing jiggle of the doorknob stopped, and you could feel the stare Raph was leveling at the door through his pointed silence. “You did fall.”

Accusing. You flinched at the sound, stumbling towards the door and leaning both hands against it like that might succeed in keeping him out if he decided otherwise.

“I promise I’m fine!” You hurriedly looked around for your T-shirt, anything, a towel for god’s sake, to wrap yourself in. A helpful thought flitted through your mind that you had left your clothes on your borrowed bed to avoid the exact scenario of trying to hide the bathing suit, and your head thunked against the door in internal shame.

Raph shifted on the other side, feet scuffing slightly. You could hear the sound of stiff fabric rubbing against scales, and realized he must have been on his way out to the pond when he came to check on you, the stiff sound of swim shorts unmistakable.

“Ok…. Well, I got a towel for ya, if you want it, so you don’t have to sit on the grass when we’re done swimming. You ready to go?” It was a lot, you knew, for him to give up the line of questioning. It made the answer you were about to give him sour all the more.

You gripped the door knob tight, your other hand clenching tight enough to drive your nails into your skin as you waffled. “I- I don’t think I can.”

A pointed silence. Then: “What? Why?”

It was your turn to shift, weighing each word. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Raph turned that over for a moment in silence, before you heard another rustle of cloth. “Here- open up.”

You gripped the doorknob tighter, parroting him in words and tone without meaning to. “What? Why?”

“S’ my shirt,” The door opened despite you clinging to it, just a smidge, just enough for him to wedge the article of clothing through the crack. “You can cover up with it, so you can still have fun.”

You took the shirt automatically, staring at it like it was a foreign thing while Raph shut the door once more with a soft click.

It was worn, likely years old, the seams frayed and a number of small holes dotting along the neckline. It would likely swallow you whole, take several rubber bands to hold to your frame, but…

It was red. A more muted color than your bathing suit, but-

You swallowed, hard, setting the shirt on the sink and laying a hand on it for comfort, before steeling your spine.

You heard Raph take a preemptive step when you turned the knob, backing up out of the way, but your eyes were fixed somewhere on his midriff as you stepped out into the hallway next to him.

”You…” His words trailed off, sounding a bit higher pitched than you were used to, and you chanced a look up at his face.

Green eyed wide, he stared at you, gaze tracking down over your torso before he seemed to remember himself and his eyes snapped back to your face. The finer scales around his beak and cheeks mottled, turning a more muted color, as blood rushed to his face. “You -ah, s’… nice-”

He snapped a hand up to his face like that might stop the train crash of words leaving his mouth, and you felt the first warm ember creep alive in your chest, that oily feeling lessening.

Silence, for a long moment, as you both considered each other. Sunlight streamed through the far window across the opened space beyond the bannister, backlighting the side of Raph’s shell and his face a golden color. Somewhere below, you could hear Donnie humming a song.

“I… liked the color.” You told him softly, finally, wrapping one arm around yourself and leaning against the door jam, breaking the stand off.

Raph made a low noise, muffled, behind the meat of his hand, and your gaze dropped in time to see his other fist clench tight before tracking back up the scutes covering his chest.

”You good?” You asked him with that same, quiet voice, feeling that beat of self consciousness grow the longer he stayed silent. Chancing another glance up at him, you found a deep look settling over his face, thoughts flashing like rapid fire hits as microexpressions twisted the features around his fist with an alarming rate.

’Yeah,” he finally breathed, hand dropping to clench at his side with the other. “Yea, m’fine. You uh- you ready, then?”

He still had that slightly hunted look, barely stepping to the side as you nodded slowly and moved past. Your elbow grazed the hard plating of his plastron as you stepped past him, and you heard him suck in a sharp breath at the sensation.

Goosebumps erupted down your spine as you felt him move to shadow your steps down the hall, but when you turned to look over your shoulder his gaze wasn’t on you, that still rather thoughtful scrunch between his eyes. “Your shirt?” You reminded him, gesturing back down the hall.

Narrowed green gaze considered you for a moment, not looking back towards the still lit bathroom. They tracked down your form for a moment, and you felt that kernel of warmth once more.

”Leave it… unless you need it?” The second part was intoned like a revelation, half turning like he’d go back for it.

Your hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks. ‘No,” You squeezed, and felt the muscle ripple in response. ‘I don’t.”

[senpai-in-the-streets]

I have had a motherfucking leak in my shower wall since September of last year, and it's still on-going. My building and several others are owned collectively through an organization, which elects a board. I immediately email them, with video evidence, and hear nothing.

I call my insurance company, and they tell me to get a plumber to investigate and make an estimate of the damage and cost. He comes, says it's a burst pipe, but that he's not going to look inside the wall because it's a 250,000 crown job to open a bathroom wall. I said I was told to ask him for a damage report, and he said "they know damn well that's not my job." And bills me almost three thousand bucks for the horrible ordeal of driving 15 minutes.

Then I get our oafish janitor to come look. He says it's not good, but he can't open the wall. It's been over a week, and I'm scared of rot and mold. He says he will ask the building insurance company to send a damage assessor. He arrives while I'm out, uses a moisture measuring device on the outside of the wall and says "I'm sure it's fine. No moisture here. If you've only SEEN the water shoot out (it was shooting like piss, not dripping) once, it's fine. I'm sure water has leaked into your wall because of poor craftmanship. Then it leaks out. Perfectly fine, and not our problem. See what happens." Janitor says it's not fair for a collective ownership to pay for repairs that might just be necessary for me.

My lawyer finds out who redid the bathroom for the previous owner. The plumbers are ok but the tile work was done by a company that disappeared and no one heard of. At this point my doorframe has swollen from the water leak and I can't close the door. To the bathroom. I'm told it's my responsibility to keep the door dry. I haven't used my shower more than four times in two months. My lawyer says it's illegal to have non-waterproof materials in such a small bathroom. The plumber who was there says the pipes must be fine, but that he will try to get hold of the guy who did the tiles. Does not respond to promptings for answers.

Well, I call that company and they repeat what they said. I email the board again and the leader calls me. He had read the first email but forgotten about it. It's now late november, I think. He offers to come look. He looks and says it's not fine. He tells me everyone else is a dickhead and a liar. He says he's going to call some guys he knows. This is the last I hear of him. He's arrogant and condescending, but also scary, so I don't say anything except thanks.

I see three more leaks, film them all, and report them to the board. I get two in one weekend. No response. I email the damage assessor and beg them to come. I've seen what happens, and it's more water. They say the insurance company has to request them to do so. My lawyer says someone has to find out what the cause, extent and cost of the damage is before she can get anyone to pay for it.

I feel like I'm going insane. Why am I doing all this shit when I pay into the insurance, same as everyone else? I don't even own the place. I own the right to live there. And I'm getting fucked sideways. And when I'm getting fucked, I would like to get kissed a lot.

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[081231]

Miss You | pro-hero Katsuki Bakugo x fem reader

·˚synopsis: Katsuki doesn’t do well when half of his heart is gone, he misses you dearly and you share the same feelings. Part of you is missing without him, and what’s the best way to keep him needy?

·˚wc: 1k

·˚tags: 18+ ONLY content + minors and empty blogs DNI + repost from my old blog + all characters are over the age of twenty-one + not beta read + male masturbation + female masturbation + pet names + sex toys + sexting

this is a repost, it's nonedited reflecting my old writing.

Three more days. That’s all he needs to wait to see you again, Katsuki thought to himself as he leaned back in his office chair looking at the clock, counting down the seconds until he gets to see you. 

It’s been over a week since you went to go visit family, and while he usually goes with you, his agency needed him back home so he had no choice but to say, but he was always sure to text and call. 

A part of him felt like it was missing when you weren’t with him, what started off as you being his side kick which surprised a lot of people, quickly blossomed into enemies who fell in love. 

Katsuki who you always called ‘an arrogant asshat.’ was able to sweep you off his feet, the mere thought of it made him crack a tiny smile as he pulled his phone out looking at your texts. 

Every morning you were sure to send him a selfie of your outfit attached with a cute good morning text, then throughout the day, you would send him pictures of the things you were doing. 

He tried to send a few of himself in the morning or while at work, sometimes you’d receive a picture of your favorite blanket with Katsuki wrapped up into it, and once after a lot of begging, he slid a pair of your lacy underwear on. 

His bulge strained against the flimsy fabric as he stood in front of the mirror with flushed cheeks taking a few pics, your favorite one was the one when he turned around giving you a perfect view of his ass. 

It became a nightly thing, especially after the second night when your side of the bed became too cold, Katsuki had no choice but to stretch his entire body over it or pile blankets next to him. 

His favorite was when you posed in front of the mirror letting him get glances of your pussy that barely peaked from your shorts, his cock strained in his boxers as he stared at it before going through the other photos. 

When he came home after a particularly hard day to an empty house, his first thought was to call you, thankfully you picked up on the second ring. 

“Katsuki, hi, baby. How are you?” You asked on the other side of the line as you settled into your bed. 

He kicked his shoes off and quickly stripped down to his boxers taking his uniform to the bathroom. “I missed your voice. I need you pumpkin." 

His nickname for you lit a fire in your chest, reminding you of the first day you met him, it was four years ago around Halloween and you had a little ceramic pumpkin on your desk that Katsuki teased you for. 

Now, it’s your nickname. "I miss you too, I’ll be home tomorrow night. How was your day? Anything interesting?" 

Katsuki went off on a mini rant while he started the washer before heading to the kitchen with a sigh. "I just went off. Tell me about your day." 

He listened to you as he made a quick dinner and ate it before heading to the bedroom with the phone shoved between his ear and shoulder, he pulled the blankets back and melted against the mattress. 

"I have one more thing to send you, ok? But I have to get off the phone and help my mom with dinner. I love you so much Suki, I’ll see you tomorrow." 

Once you hung up he looked through his texts waiting for the picture, but instead, it was a video. 

He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what it was, the thumbnail was dark so he had no idea, and you only send pictures, never videos. 

Clicking the video he was greeted by seeing you naked on your bed with a dildo, the one that was an exact mold of his dick. His eyes went wide and his cock throbbed in his boxers as he watched you lube it up with spit. 

You slid the toy in and out of your mouth watching your phone while you cupped your breast moaning his name. "Holy fuck.” He grunted watching you remove it with a wet pop. 

Quickly he grabbed the band of his boxers pulling it down freeing his aching cock, the head pink and leaking pre as he watched the video still as he yanked his drawer open on his nightstand grabbing his pocket pussy. 

He could see the fake cock slide inside you as you straddled it at first before laying on your back and spreading your legs, you moaned his name grabbing the fake balls and fucking yourself with the toy. 

“Katsuki! I-I need you!” You mewled going faster and arching your back, the sound of it came over his speaker and he could see himself in between your legs fucking you himself, your wet and warm pussy hugging him tightly. 

He spit on his palm that wasn’t holding his phone then lubed up the length of his cock making it wet enough to slide the fleshlight over him, he matched your pace as red eyes stayed trained on the video. 

“I want you to cum inside me so bad baby! I missed it! I want you so bad! Suki!” You whined grinding down on the toy. 

Katsuki grunted as he went faster squeezing himself. “I’ll fill you up nice-fuck-going to make you squirt all over.” He moaned to himself as he kept his eyes trained on his phone. 

You were going faster as well nearing your orgasm, it’s been too long since he’s felt your touch, and hearing you cry his name out was enough for him to spill his release into the toy, his cum dripped from the opening as he panted leaning his head back. 

It was a mess, but for now, he didn’t care. Katsuki sent you a text before cleaning up to get ready for bed. 

Katsuki: I think we should recreate that video you sent when you get home, be ready. I love you pumpkin.