#Yay I wrote! :)

[sadcoms]

until i recently read posts on here about how there is an inherent queerness to the doctor and rose's relationship in how it's unspoken and filled with yearning that i'd never really considered that element, despite knowing for ages that RTD is gay but. man. it's just reframed a lot of the series for me, like the idea that you have this lonely man who's just watched his people die and is self-destructive and misanthropic and traumatised and he can love again and he wants to but it has so many risks.

but especially S3 and how it adds even more weight to the doctor's grieving widower status. how he tells martha that he and rose were together but martha refers to rose as a friend to tallulah; the fact that he can only say they were together once she is gone; how the only other person that both can feel how he feels but also understands the depth of his feelings is jack, a queer man himself. and I've been thinking to myself lately oh, it's ok, the doctor and rose probably accidentally got married on at least one planet or something but also the point is that there was no official title that could convey to people the extent that they meant to each other, that the doctor can really only tell donna that rose was his friend even though it is so wholly inadequate and she comes to see that by the end of the episode (and martha too of course). how people who saw the doctor and rose together assumed they were a couple, like on krop tor, but once there's no more physical evidence of the relationship it becomes more vague (and simultaneously clearer).

anyway something about how christopher eccleston said he based his portrayal of nine on RTD and something about RTD saying that his husband is "in every good man i write now" and how the doctor and ruby seeing each other in the club mimics his first meeting with his husband aka the one moment he would use a time machine to go back to hmmm

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[bluewolfangel01]

Man, there's so much that I want! But most of all, I wanna hear you say "Happy birthday." C'mon, I'm waitin'. Whenever you're ready. -Mammon's birthday notification

Context: Mammon and Mc are in Mc's room watching a movie Mammon picked, while he lays his head in their lap while on their bed

Mc:"Hey Mammon..."

Mammon:"Yeah?" He says while looking up towards Mc's face

Mc: leans down close to his head with a soft smile on their face "Happy Birthday" then kisses Mammon on his forehead

Mammon: silent for a moment but afterwards gently guides Mc so he can cuddle and be the big spoon

Mammon: "y-yeah yeah, just watch the movie."

...

Mammon: "thanks"

Mammon then holds Mc even closer, kisses their shoulder, and the pair continue to watch the movie till they fall asleep.

Happy semi-late B-day Mams🎉

Credit to @sister-lucifer for divider

[lucabyte]

If you wouldn't mind, could you explain to me in detail how your sifloop works? Would there ever be a romantic relationship between the two (and how do you think they would get to that stage) or do you just think they'll be stuck in this weird messed up obsession and loathing loop forever? Anyway your takes on sifloop are my favourite if you couldn't tell

Oh, I've been depicting it as romantic the whole time (remembers I'm asexual and aromantic and thus my depictions of such are alien at best) Er, though you'd be forgiven for not noticing.

I know I don't draw them being particularly traditionally cute (kissing, cuddling, etc) (even though I do envision that any time it's not literally extremely inconvenient that they are entangled like a pair of magnetised squiddles) particularly often.*

(Though, I do have some hints at that kind of behaviour: (x) (x) (x)) But this is where, hm, my particular readings of these characters' self-assessment comes in.

I believe that I (an aroace tumblr user who has been immersed in nuianced language about such things since i was an early teen) and Siffrin/Loop (a guy approaching their thirties who seems to have escaped social pressures primarily via isolation from their peers) will have some different views on things. Hell, Sif/Loop don't even have words for Asexuality and Aromanticism even if they seem to be able to point toward the feeling with roundabout language.

I think that their relationship, in the way that it would manifest, would first and foremost be Physical. Some real Maslow's hierarchy shit. Both of them are viciously touch starved and given the whole shared-ownership-of-body thing I keep alluding to (x) (x) I think they are prone to being a tangled pile of limbs both clothed and unclothed.

Now I (enlightened modern day asexual) do not think that physical/sexual/romantic are in any way synonyms unless you want them to be. I believe that literally all associated behaviours of these can be platonic if that's how you feel about it. Howeverrrrrrr. I really cannot envision "black-and-white-thinking-world-champion siffrin and/or loop" being able to disentangle that so easily. I think they would have trouble squaring the circle of certain actions not being reserved for romance, at least not until after several years of continued unpacking and philosophical discussion with Mirabelle and Odile.

And then there's the part where Siffrin/Loop (and also Isabeau!) have some absolutely insane Jealous streaks. Not even on the downlow, they just do. I think that combination of jealousy and posessiveness when paired with unevenly splitting time between A Guy You're Established To Be (at the very least on his side, romantically) In Love With, and Your Weird Fucking Clone Who You Keep Being Intimate And Intensely Emotional With, is going to cause some problems when it comes to labelling things.

I do not think Sif/Loop are stupid, but man do they ever lack emotional intelligence in a lot of areas (a thing the whole game hammers home). I do not think that they would be level-headed enough to independently invent the idea of "QPR, but the kind where you do basically fuck sometimes". I think they would just (agonise over cheating, first of all.) call it a romantic pairing and be done with it.

And then Isabeau is also there I guess. I gesture at him and at my aforementioned Iseabeau Torment Nexus thoughts (x)(x). I believe this polycule can work and even be healthy but hahahaha oh man they are gonna have some weirrrrrrd fuckin tension beforehand lolllll.

as for how i think they'd get to that stage? lol, lmao. I think of things with a lens of 'what would be the most narratively intense' a lot of the time, so my answer there is:

They basically act like one right out of the gate, at least to the average onlooker**. This makes the fights feel worse. This makes them both paranoid in different ways about how this affects Siffrin's relationship to Isabeau. This makes it more difficult for the party to go "hey so, your friend, we're all being very accepting of their sharp edges because they're clearly someone who's struggling, but why are they suuuuch an asshole?". They fret about this and it causes more push and pull as either side feels guilty about this relationship they're not 'supposed' to have. Even if their relationship woes could easily be squared away by either categorising it as a QPR or talking to Isa (who is vaugardian and probably thus lax about polyamory) neither of them are going to do that right out of the gate because they lack the language, are prone to being wracked by guilt, often assume the worst will happen should they talk about difficult topics, and straight up maybe just see intimacy/sexuality/romance as a package deal due to lacking the social expertise... You see what I mean.

I don't Know if what I envision is... The literal platonic ideal of "A Romantic Relationship". I don't know that if Cupid came on down and inspected my brain that they'd agree that this is romantic and not just like, something really fucking weird, man. I don't even know if I would call it romantic, necessarily. BUT. I Do Think. That These Two. Would Maybe Label It That Way. Because it would make it easier for them to understand and come to peace with that way. Which is what matters. Labels are Descriptive, not Prescriptive.

What I DO think i envision however is something so fucking aroace brained that i can point to sif/loop's canon labels, point to MY labels, and then give you a big thumbs up hoping that you won't get on my ass for implying several sentences upstream that "they probably basically fuck, or something, idk, does star-sucking count as sex? i'm not a doctor nor medical professional of any kind. you probably shouldn't drink whatever comes out of it though"

Implicit question 2: "Jesus Christ you make them seem to hate each other, is that not contradictory? Is that all supposed to be during them being romantically involved?" Yup! Sorry for the subtle undercurrent I haven't previously explicitly and overtly established literally at all but a good chunk of that percieved hatred is a byproduct of Loop keeping their identity secret. That's the space wherein I set most of my fanart. (x) Once that cat is out of the bag I think the heat cools off significantly because then they aren't both talking around each other trying not to actually say what they're fighting about. They can actually bond about shared experiences out in the open rather than keeping their traps shut in case the party overhears. They still fight and have problems thereafter, but it's not made worse by being unable to directly discuss the core issue (+ the party can actually contribute/try to shut things down rather than being unclear on what exactly the issue is)

The above ALSO not helping when it comes to jealousy/feelings of infidelity re: Isabeau. (When specifically in the context of Romantic Frustration here, since that jealousy extends to the whole party when generalised) So that adds another thing to, not necessarily fight about, but be bitter over.

As for hatred being contradictory. Mmm. Nah.

The opposite of Love is not Hate. It is Indifference. (A theme ISAT notably gets at). Hate is distinctly something you do if you care. Often if you care Way Too Much.

I try not to write them hating each other, so much as feeling extremely intensely about each other. (x)

Feeling intensely Thankful, Understood, Sorry, Trapped, Devoted, Jealous, Protective, Pitying, Indebted...

^ Scary ! Complicated ! Hard to deal with ! Even the positive ones can be overwhelming! It's gonna make things weird!

So uh, Yeah. There's your answer? I suppose tl;dr: I view relationships as nebulous and only defined by those in it. (This is something I have previously yapped about at length in essays about my OCs lol) And generally view that there's no "true" label for any relationship except the one that doesn't cause undue distress. (which. i mean it does here. but it probably works out in the end with enough talking)

Asking me to define if something is romantic is like asking me to pin down the true form of the Human Soul. Like dawg i dont know how to do that i dont even know if that shit is real. there are merely actions and their constructed societal categories. If i tell you I think they kiss sometimes does that clear it up? (It shouldn't, obviously, but you get what I mean)

But yeah. Gestures broadly. Shipping an ace (and maybe even aroace based on some shit that little fella says) character like this means it comes with an essay. Because it necessarily interfaces with their nonstandard mode of interaction in that arena. The part where its weirdo fucking ♠ ♥ ♦ ♣ selfcest merely adds a layer.***

... Anyway I'll leave you with this. The mirasifloop qpr "so what is.... romance?" discussion sessions are probably downright dialectical aren't they. Feelings Buddies discuss the phrase "Self-Love" 23467324235 dead 3 injured

*i do have like . 2 wips. that would. include this kind of behaviour explicitly. but i simply have not gotten around to them yet. and also don't worry neither of them are purely fluff both of them still have an air of worrying fuckedupedness about them. yay !

** inkeeping with my "geared for maximal conflict" mind, this can be flavoured with some "technically nobody can say it's not canon, I guess?" during-the-game Sifloop. By handing them the 'started leaning on each other for comfort more blatantly toward the end of a4' thing, since, well, I think exploring the "Loop expected at least one of them to be dead by the end of this/Loop never expected this to end, and thus began filling in that 'Lover' role as comfort/pity/selfishness/mercy given their knowledge that Isabeau is forever out of reach for both of/at least one of them" angle is... Well it's certainly fuckin' compelling that's for sure. Like oops, you let the timeloop malaise get to you and maybe started a trist because you thought you'd be dead before there'd be any lasting consequences. Here's those consequences, motherfucker !! But you won't catch me putting that explicitly in my comics because I don't want to change anything about the raw text of canon when I'm exploring its consequences. However, nothing I do is Incompatible with this read. And I enjoy making things more tortured so. Shrugs and hands this to you. Be free. (....x)

*** those of you that know what i mean by this just had all of it click just now didnt you. lol.

[transformers-spike]

Knockout x Reader x Breakdown nsfw. Come on, I know you wanna

I will never recover from the predator/prey fic so here have something wholesome for once

“Fuck,” you hiss under your breath, barely taking in Breakdown’s spike. From sheer size alone, it feels like marching into a sex shop and demanding the giant dildo they use to attract tourists. Knock Out, cunty as ever, already has his far-too-soft-for-metal lips against your collarbone. If you were a sensible person, you would have shot down the mere mention of a threesome. Alas, the notion of trying this new thing called “mass displacement” called to you like a kid at a candy store. If you didn’t have the audacity to say yes, you would have missed the suppleness of Knock Out’s tongue and the unexpected gentleness of Breakdown’s fingers working you up. You love these guys enough to put up with their strange antiques and deal with their unusually-high-for-their-kind sex drive (or interface drive as Breakdown kindly pointed out before Knock Out immediately adopted the human lingo). They must have watched human porn, there’s just no way they haven’t – not with the way they stroke your body like frat boys finally getting their groove on after years of studying up on the sex. If you had the energy, you would be currently exploring the seams in their anatomy and dragging your fingers dangerously close to the openings in their frames, but there’s very little you can do when you’re busy getting plowed by two giant alien lifeforms. Knock Out, after having given you the most mind-blowing orgasm with his tongue alone, has fucked you so thoroughly you were practically on your own intergalactic voyage through space as Breakdown held you against his frame, having taken the brunt of his partner’s sexual frustration before they even dared to involve your squishy human insides. Dripping with two kinds of transfluids (the valve and the spike kind) you were gazing at them all blearily, looking unsexy as hell like you just got out of a car crash (minus the blood and with more alien cum). The warmth in their optics felt surreal and welcoming. You were small and fleshy against two titans who have witnessed more beauty than you ever will in your entire human life, but it was as though you were the center of their universe. If you hadn’t been crying from getting the best orgasms of your life, you would have teared up. Now, passed over to Knock Out – whose chassis you’ve grown accustomed to enough to relegate any sadness caused by watching his shiny plating be smudged by your natural oils to the back of your mind – you whimper and steer as his far too competent tongue drags across your neck, servos holding your ass still while Breakdown continues at a steady pace. “Holy shit-” you mumble, words cut short as the holder of the biggest dick you’ve ever had cups your cheek and kisses the side of your mouth. For all his eagerness, he’s softer than Knock Out, especially for a bot as big as him who looks like he crushes cars between his servos (which may actually be true considering the hammers he can summon to for melee). Another climax rolls through you, harder than the last one, inciting a pathetic high pitched anime girl mewl from your part. Breakdown grunts against your ear, metal whirring underneath his frame and against your back as your walls clamp down on him hard enough to drag out his long-overdue overload. His noises only serve to excite Knock Out who captures your lips with his and grinds his still-pressurized spike against the sensitive cluster of nerves between your legs. You come out of your trance having experienced your own death and resurrection, eyes misty and perpetually confused as you wake on the doctor’s slightly softer than steel berth with him hovering over you like a predator. It doesn’t take long for you to notice Breakdown’s fingers stroking your cheek, and once he knows he has your attention, he slips one of his massive digits between your thighs to begin rubbing against the long abused and overused sweet spot. Looking down at Knock Out’s gorgeous spike, you whisper a prayer to Primus Himself as you’re once again assailed by inhumane pleasure.

[calmbigdipper]

What you mean to me

[mcondance]

peter who tells you to just breathe

peter’s big, in multiple senses of the word. you both know this. he’s tall, and he’s buff, and, you know, he’s hung. . so it’s a process when you want him and he wants you, even if it hasn’t been that long.

kissing on the couch ends up with you bent over said couch, cause why walk stumble to the bedroom between kisses and touches and grabs when peter’s mumbling between one kiss and tug of clothes and another “couch, darlin’, right here’s good, anywhere’s good” and you oblige, kissing him again before you turn around and arch your back pretty how he likes it, jolting a little when you feel his hands ghost up the backs of your thighs

and yeah, foreplay helps— one, two, three of his fingers sliding slow and smooth inside you while he reaches under you to tease your clit— but he’s still big, and you can only take so much foreplay before you’re pushing back on him and throwing all caution to the wind. “just put it in,” you’re begging, and quill knows it’s gonna take a while to actually do what you said but at this point, fuck it.

he wastes no time, wraps his hand around his cock and taps his fat tip against your wet cunt, and pushes in just a little. you tense up, and he’s rubbing up and down your back and kneading your sides, humming “you got it, darlin’, you always do.”

and you know you do, but fuck, he’s big.

but he encourages you, whispers “just breathe, baby, le’me in.”

with deep breaths and peter’s hand snaking under you to play gently with your clit, he sliiidess in just a little more, praising you— "look at you, my perfect girl, takin' me so good."

he keeps praising you with every slide of his cock deeper inside you, his sweet tongue never growing short of words to help you. "almost there, pretty, you almost got it" and "you got it, star, know how good you can take it."

and when you close the gap yourself, push back onto him until your ass meets his hips, he's groaning softly as he watches your cunt swallow him up.

"'m all the way in," he tells you. "looked so pretty lettin' me stretch you open."

it takes a minute for you to tell him "move, baby, please", but it's not long until he's pulling out to slide right back in and you're moving back on him, listening to his slurred praises mix with your pretty moans and whines.

[starch1ldz]

Spencer Reid who falls in love with a dancer. He sees you with your friends at a club, dancing in the middle of the dance floor. He's fascinated by you, your movements are so much more smooth than your friends even though he can tell you aren't taking it seriously. Morgan incourages Spencer to talk to you, pushing him towards where you've split off from your friends to get water. He ends up with your number after you give it to him with a smile and a laugh at his awkwardness. He does eventually get to see you actually dance, and it's all he imagined and then some, he already thought you were beautiful before, but he knows there's no getting out of this now.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

to smile. to rejoice. to celebrate

[ranticore]

a common theme I like to explore is the unlikable guy - unlikable in a mundane way, he's not a serial killer and isn't trying to take over the world, you don't get that degree of separation from him, this is someone you can and probably have met irl. pushy annoying inconsiderate weak bigoted toxic etc. this is who we're reading about today. and he's not necessarily going to improve either. i find that people react to "evil" and "just kinda shitty" characters very differently, usually hating the latter more - a vampire who kills people is whatever but some guy cheating on his gf provokes a stronger disapproving response. i think it's interesting how the closer to home you hit, the smaller the bad act is on the scale of badness. anyway it's really obvious why this is and I am partially just retreading very well trodden ground but it's this sort of kneejerk negative response to mundane shittiness I like to explore more than I do "he did commit the atrocities and I love him for it" style stories

[idyllcy]

and baby, if you knew

word count: 2.1k || pt2 of saying we're just friends

warnings: mentions of the night before (?), morning after, hickies (?)

summary: oh the horrors of getting caught the morning after

You stare at yourself in the mirror, blinking incredulously. (Partially out of pure shock, partially because sleeping with your contacts on was NOT a smart decision on your end)

Holy fuck, Tim got mouthy with you.

You tilt your neck to brush your fingers over the hickeys, gawking at the way it trails down your neck and collar to your chest, the purple popping on your skin. Sure, you weren't half as pale as Tim was, but hello? You didn't even bring concealer. You weren't expecting him to take you to the Wayne Manor. 

"Tim." You swallow, grimacing.

Tim raises a brow, shirt pulled halfway over his head.

"How many hickeys did you give me? Do you have a whisk? Do you have ice? Are you secretly a vampire???"

"One question at a time, lovely." he mumbles. "Seven. There's a whisk and ice downstairs. I am not secretly a vampire, although I can see why you'd guess that."

You blink at him. "Do you have a collared shirt?"

"Just settle for one of my shirts for now." He pulls the shirt over his head, tossing you the other one in the bed. 

"Please tell me it's not sheer."

"It's not."

"Thank GOD you're rich." You mumble. "It's a blessing to have non-sheer white shirts."

"Yeah, I get that." He mumbles. "Come on. Alfred called us for breakfast a little ago."

"Which one of your siblings are here?"

"We'll see." Tim hums, shutting the door to his room. (All of them are downstairs, likely. They were probably having a post-valentine debriefing like they usually do. Bruce was not spared from it.)

You duck behind Tim when you notice everyone having breakfast.

"You said we'll see! Are none of them staying with the people they were out with last night?!"

"It happens every year." Tim hums, holding his hand out for you. "Come on. Don't do the walk of shame."

"Seriously. I run a stan account for you and live in my dorm. I'm practically a hermit." You deadpan. "I am NOT cut out to be meeting your family this early in the morning."

"Master Tim, young miss. Are you ready for breakfast? We are having pancakes."

"Just kidding I would kill for pancakes right now." You mumble, following behind Tim as he sits you next to him.

All eyes are on you as you adjust the collar of your shirt, the tag scratching against your skin, the hickeys on your neck visible. You thank Alfred as he places a plate before you, and you start at the chocolate chip pancakes. Holy shit, fuck the eyes on you, this was heaven.

"Alfred, do you have a recipe book?" You blink at him, eyes wide in admiration. 

"Which recipe would you like, young miss?"

"Oh, all of them if possible. I'd love to be able to cook half as well as you can." You hum, taking another bite of your food. "Do you have a digital copy?"

"Unfortunately, all of it is on paper or in here." He smiles, tapping his brain. "But I am more than willing to provide you with any recipes you may like."

"Mm!" You shove the last piece of the pancake into your mouth, swallowing as you get up. "Tim, do you have a laptop? I want to type a couple recipes down and transcribe what's on paper—"

"Pull open the drawer to your left." He hums.

You pull it open, blinking at him.

"There's a false bottom in it. One of my spare laptops is in it. The password is a combination of letters." He hums.

"With significance?"

"Yes."

"Oh, then I know an approximation, then." You hum, working your finger into the side as you prop it open, pulling his laptop out. "Is it our birthdays?"

"Wait, how did she–" Dick's cut off when you manage to open it on your first try.

"Alright. I'm gonna go! I'll be with Alfred if you need anything." You smile.

"She just?" Duke blinks incredulously. "Did she just hack open your laptop on her first try? Is she in compsci like you?"

"English." Tim grabs a couple pancakes, cutting off a piece of butter. "Creative writing, technically."

"Oh, is she making her own major?"

"Yes." Tim hums. "I don't actually know how she guessed that it would be our birthdays since I only changed it a little while ago. It'd be easier to open if it was just our birthdays combined. Maybe she was stalking me."

"Or, maybe all the years of running a Robin Twitter account finally paid off." Jason shrugs. "She's quite a big writer on the internet too, you know?"

"Yeah." Tim hums. "She's quite the character. Have you read her works?"

"I have." Damian speaks up. "Her writing resembles poetry, pulling on the strings of your heart and snapping them at moments you least expect."

"You've read her works?!" Tim raises a brow at Damian. "That's surprising."

"She resembles the poets."

"She'd love to hear that come out of your mouth for sure." Tim mumbles. "Anything else I should know?"

"She covered me for change once while I went to buy cup noodles." Cass mumbles.

"I'm mutuals with her on Twitter?" Steph points.

"Okay, that's not the point. Timmy." Dick deadpans. "Did you sleep with her last night?"

"Sex or just plain sleeping? Because we did both—"

"I DIDN'T GET TO GIVE YOU THE SHOVEL TALK!" Dick cries. "Okay, when a man and a—"

"Dick, I'm well over into the ages of a legal adult." Tim sighs. "Besides, I'm like seventy percent sure that you gave me the shovel talk when you first found out I was dating Ari in high school. Also, I got one from my dad and Bruce, so I think I'm good."

"Oh, right." Dick mumbles. "But still."

Steph pauses. "Does she want a whisk?"

"She was asking for one earlier." Tim hums.

"We'll go help." Cass mumbles, getting out of the seat, dragging Steph.

"Okay, Tim. Is she the one who was making you all red and blushy during Christmas?" Dick slides closer to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

"Yes." Tim sighs, batting Dick's hand away. "She was."

"How'd you ask her out?"

"Told her if she had nothing to do on Valentine's, then she could stick with me and I could plan a date." Tim reaches for another pancake.

"And she agreed?" Jason snorts. "Wow. She's way out of your league."

"Yeah, but at least I got B's absolutely insane ability to pull." He mumbles. "Pulled way out of my league, for sure."

"If you fumble her I fear the things that will happen to you, Drake." Damian clicks his tongue.

"Do I... know her?"

"Duke," Damian sighs. "You're smarter than this."

"He's messing with you right now." Jason pours himself another cup of coffee. 

"What's your relationship with her." Tim deadpans.

"She used to peer review my poems." He hums. "It didn't click until Damian showed me her information this morning, though."

"You just let them go through my girlfriend's personal information?!" Tim finally looks at Bruce, who only gives him a shrug.

"No harm in knowing a little more about your girlfriend."

"I swear, if you bring her in on the vigilantism—"

"That's not happening. I can promise that." Bruce glances at his almost empty mug. "Does she know?"

"She called me out for being Red Robin last night in the car." Tim sighs. "Besides, it'd be strange if she didn't notice immediately how similar Red Robin and I's voices are."

"She's been running your account for how long... now?" Bruce motions for Jason to pass him the coffee.

"Since middle school, so like..." Tim pauses. "Give or take seven years."

"That's a long time." Dick mumbles. "My longest-running fanpage is only six-ish years." 

"If you count the Gotham Gazette, then I've been running for the longest." Bruce snorts. "Is she the one?"

"I think she is." Tim smiles. "And if she's not..."

"Then I will personally see the end of your life, Drake." Damian grumbles. "I shall have mother adopt her and have her write poetry for me in exchange for a living space and food. She shall be the equivalent of a court poet except to mother and I."

"I honestly think she wouldn't turn that down." Tim grimaces. 

"Is she that desperate?"

"She's joked about sleeping with a millionaire to make some money." Tim grimaces. "Something something desperate situations call for desperate measures."

"She would love it in mother's mansion, then." Damian hums, sipping on his tea. "I shall have her write a poem for your death. It shall be my last mercy."

Tim grimaces. "What if she breaks up with me?"

"Then you're in the fault, obviously." Jason mumbles, looking at his phone. 

"So it's my fault regardless of what happens?"

"Listen, her tweets are unhinged. You can't say you like crazy girls and then get annoyed when you date one and she acts insane." Jason grumbles.

"He's got a point, Timmers." Dick hums. "I hope it works out for the best, regardless of the ending."

"Twenty bucks they are endgame." Damian mumbles.

"Alfred bet ten that Tim would pop the ring."

"Ugh, come on. You know no one out-bets Alfred." Dick groans. "Did he set up the jar?"

"He did. This morning." Duke hums. "I put my bet in too."

"Come on–"

"You can't say shit when you bet on all of our relationships and pretty much came out unscathed in all of them." Jason glares. "Shut it."

Tim rolls his eyes, surrendering himself to the idea that his relationship would get bet on. 

"Tim, can I marry your sisters?" You come out of the kitchen, eyes sparkling.

"We're dating." He sighs. "Pretty bird—"

"EWWWWWWW" A mixture of faked hurls and gags are heard in unison as Tim rolls his eyes. 

"Ignore them. Why do you want my sisters?"

"The hickeys are all," You pull your shirt down too to show your cleavage, the hickeys no longer visible, "gone! Your sisters are really good at this."

"Yeah..." Tim sighs, reaching to pull your shirt back up. "Steph isn't my sister, by the way."

"Oh, yes, I know." You smile. "After all, if she was, it'd be strange that you've dated her before." 

Tim chokes on the air at your statement.

"Besides, she's my mutual." You hum. "I also got Alfred's recipes, by the way." You hum, smile on your face. "I also got his chocolate chip cookie recipe, though I need to figure out what the secret ingredient is."

"A dash of vanilla extract." Tim lowers his voice. "Don't tell the rest of the family."

"Got it." You give him a thumbs up. 

"Do you cook?" Damian speaks up.

"I do! Mainly ethnic foods, since there isn't much of that here in Gotham." You mumble. "Got any good Chinese places?"

"Oh, there's this place on Seventh Ave and Jester." Bruce speaks up. "I used to get dim sum there. It's only open from eight to twelve, and you need to get in via reservation. Feel free to borrow my name whenever. Just make sure to invite me."

"Uncle Dan's, right?" You beam. "I went there a while back with another friend, but I miss like... the dim sum that's messy and chaotic in the morning."

"Oh, then try the one on Lightbeam." Dick pauses. "Ah, what was the other street?"

"Oh, that one's good." Duke agrees. "Sam Woo's Dim Sum and BBQ."

"I've had that too!" You smile. "They're good, just quite a while from the university."

"If you really want something good," Cass speaks up from behind you, "try Jin."

"Jin?"

"It's smaller, but it's family-run, and it's been doing business in Gotham for three generations already." Cass hums. "They're called Jin, but the Chinese character for gold. They're right by Gotham U too. On the corner by Circle K."

"The sketchy looking alley??" You blink.

"Yes, but their dumplings are to die for." She pauses. "And they sell in bulk if you want to boil any in your dorm."

"Tim, I want your sister."

"Pretty bird, we just started going out." He clicks his tongue. 

"Tim, if you break her heart, I will date her." Cass blinks.

"You can visit her when she stays in mother's mansion."

"Hm?" You turn to blink at Damian.

"Ignore him—"

"Should you and Drake break up, I have already arranged your living arrangements, should you agree to it."

"And what might they be?" You hand the laptop to Tim, pointing at the document you shared with yourself.

"With my mother. Your only job shall be to write poems and short stories to entertain her."

"Living and writing for the Talia Al Ghul? Count me in." You sigh dreamily. 

"Alright." Tim shuts the laptop after changing the password. "We're going to get going before her roommate calls the cops on her."

"Oh, right!" You mumble. "It was a pleasure meeting you all! I hope to see you again sometime?"

"Tim, send her number in the chat later!" Dick calls as Tim pulls you out.

"Sorry, they're quite embarrassing." Tim mumbles.

"They're warm." You smile. "I like it."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." 

Tim sighs in relief at the look of fondness on your face. Right.

You'll be fine.

[tumble-witch]

TW light suggestion of body horror. No descriptions though!

Creatomachia

Bunnix shows up in Marinette's bedroom when it's already dark outside.

Marinette knows what the older heroine is about to ask the second she hears the burrow open. When Bunnix greets her, Marinette is hyperventilating. Instead of exchanging pleasantries, she asks:

- Is it... him again?

Bunnix has a grim expression on her face, yet shakes her head. Marinette exhales. She has another question.

- Is it something I did?

- No. I'm sorry I'm asking this from you again. I'm sorry there will be no answers yet.

- It's okay. I am ready.

At first Ladybug thinks she is on another planet. Another dimension, even. There are cloud fractals in the sky. There is a street light growing out of another one, growing out of another one, growing out of another one... Trees are huge and have so many leaves they are almost a solid green mass. Some buildings are so tall they go way past the clouds in a curvy line. It reminds her of the Jack and the Beanstalk fairytale her mom used to read her before bed.

The roads branch out like blood vessels, getting smaller with each separation, ending in dead ends near the buildings or growing vertically on top of the walls.

The whole city almost looks like it could move at any second. It almost looks alive.

As Ladybug progresses through the streets (if she can even call them that), she finally realizes where the people are.

At least, what's left of them.

Infinite growth apparently works on humans, too. She never thought she'd be so thankful to see somebody not move.

The silence makes her ears ring. Everything is quiet, except for some mechanical sounds the structures make, not really meant to support their own weight in this new form.

Then, she hears laughter.

A girl with hair so long she's not sure where it ends is frantically pacing around the roof, her body movements jittery and odd. As the camera of the heroine's yo-yo focuses on the akuma, helping seek out where the cursed butterfly is hiding, Ladybug realizes the dress this girl is wearing is not grey.

It's is covered in trillions of colourful tiny dots of different shapes and sizes. They seem jittery too, as if trying to move, but some force is making them stay together. This feels like standing up after lying down for too long. Looking at the pattern for too long makes her head hurt

Ladybug continues hiding. She takes her time looking for clues. At this point she's not really sure if the girl is actually laughing or this is a weird hysterical cry. Sometimes the akuma starts muttering under her nose, too quiet to make out most of the words. Ladybug is pretty sure she heard the girl say "I can fix this" a few times though. She shifts to hear the words better.

The akuma turns around

This is the hardest she's ever fought. Chat Blanc feels like child's play now.

While the villain almost looks out of breath, long hair going everywhere, Ladybug is still barely able to keep up.

The air is too dense with oxygen.

The girl has a yo-yo as a weapon, in a cruel twist of irony. And she's damn good with it. Yet, she clearly hesitates in using the thing, saving it as a last resort to escape.

Ladybug tries to reason with the akumatized victim.

- Wait! Please, let me help you!

- You don't understand, - the girl looks around frantically, - I have to fix this! I need to fix this!

Villain's grey yo-yo starts to glow white and she throws it at a fire hydrant, making it grow another one on top.

The akuma was inside the earring. Ladybug was hit by the yo-yo. She doesn't have the time to think as she casts Miraculous cure, just before her brain registered the pain fully.

She'll remember the way it looked when she closes her eyes though.

The streets go back to normal. Her body is normal. Ladybug turns around and meets the eyes of

herself

Marinette sits on the ground, horrified. But before Ladybug can talk to her Bunnix appears and she has to go.

Bunnix doesn't say anything as they walk through the burrow, but she's pretty sure the older heroine is holding her shoulder softer than ever before.

They didn't change anything. They didn't fix anything after they came back, no scoldings, no erasing her name from anywhere, nothing. Marinette is growing more paranoid at every turn, expecting to get akumatized. Her conflict avoidance is at all times high. She's withdrawing from her friends.

Nobody is near when Hawkmoth himself shows up in the middle of the night and she has to transform. He senses her distress immediately.

This is just too easy.

The butterfly lands in her earring just as she started to call for a last effort Lucky Charm.

"Creatomachia, this is Hawkmoth. You are overwhelmed with every problem creating a million smaller ones. Things seem to stack on top of each other and just never end. I'll give you the power to fix everything. In return, you will give me your and Chat Noir's miraculous."

For a split second, everything is white.

[stvharrngton]

a lesson in romantics; a teacher!steve au

a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, angst (will be added as each part is posted)

lesson one

lesson two

lesson three

lesson four

lesson five

lesson six

lesson seven

lesson eight

lesson nine

lesson ten

lesson ten b (alternative ending)

[blackrosesandwhump]

#17 Poison

From this Gothic whump challenge.

CW: vampire whumper, poison, blood

The vampire ripped his fangs from his victim’s neck. Just a little more. But he knew, gripping the man’s limp form, that a little more always meant death.

Gently, he laid the human down.

“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping blood from his mouth. Just a little more. Please. “It’ll wear off after a while.” He glanced at the man’s body, then took off his own coat and spread it out over the cold ground. He placed the human on top. The man lay motionless, his breathing shallow, eyes wide and terrified.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire repeated. A useless refrain.

His fangs throbbed as he slipped into the night. Their venom burned at the corner of his mouth. The same venom that now coursed through his victim’s paralyzed body.

I’m sorry.

[crownedcloud]

I have a lot of thoughts on these three

I like to imagine them as a love triange starting out, especially since Laios clearly has strong feelings for Toshiro, and Kabru's transition from obsession to friendship with Laios reads very romantic to me. I believe that, post canon, Toshiro will eventually start to simmer out of his infatuation with Falin, and once he does I think he could potentially find some of the same qualities he liked in Falin, in Kabru; they both are great listeners who are acute to subtleties, Kabru has passion for people, which nicely parallels Falin's passion for life, and Kabru is obviously very attractive.

I also think there's great potential for them to realize feelings for each other, and even develop prior feelings to a true appreciation, since despite Laios thinking Toshiro is very cool and talented, I don't think he had a chance to truly know him. I think he'd find they have more alike than he'd expect, and the vice for Toshiro. Todbiro liked that Falin understood him with little difficulty, but I think Laios would encourage Toshiro to make room for himself, and that he could appreciate his tenderness that he has been guided away from in the past.

Toshiro's somewhat delicate nature, appreciating plants and life outside of fighting and espionage would appeal to Kabru, as it seems that's one of his driving interests in Laios, the lack of active greed and ruthlessness he finds rare among adventurers. I also think Kabru has near always had to fend for himself, outside of Milsiril who (bless her heart) didn't give him a say over her swaddling, and I think like Toshiro's protective nature. I think they could understand each other the way they want to be known, something Laios is capable of in a different degree.

Laios's development of feelings for Kabru is just expansion on his already existing feelings, I think the line between affection and friendship tends to get blurry for Laios once he starts seeing someone in a romantic light, and he just needs the opportunity to clarify these feelings to really understand he loves Kabru.

I'm running out of steam; I want to think Laios is the one who suggests dating each other, as a polycule, but I can't help but see Kabru as the initiator. They're all cute together and they'd help each other grow 👍

These are all just my thoughts, and if you don't agree that's cool, please be nicies

*edit Tumblr uploaded the older version of the picture for some reason 😔

[lukaherehelp]

A garland, quick, I’m dying! Weave it now, sing and moan and sing! For shadows my throat are clouding and again the January light comes in.

Trembling bushes and the air of stars lie between your love and mine, a dense mass of anemones picks up an entire year with a muffled moan.

Revel in the open country of my wound, break apart its reeds and delicate rivulets, drink from my thigh my pouring blood.

But be quick! And then, together entwined, with love-broken mouths and frayed souls time will find us utterly destroyed.

- Sonnet of the Garland of Roses, Sonnets of Dark Love, Federico Garcia Lorca