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momo-minomo · 2 months ago

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Fic Fairy Friday: Batfamily Shenanigans

This week's fic rec post is dedicated to the Batfamily just BEING a family. The snark, the annoying nagging, the overprotectiveness, etc. I feel like we don't get to see the Batfamily together and friendly nearly enough. Some of these would fit in the comics, some are more Wayne Family Adventures coded, and some are full on AU. Enjoy!

The Fic Fairy Friday Masterpost

Code Bat by Listentothelittlebird

Summary:

Within Gotham, the Bats are a tight-knit group - family - that runs like clockwork. Outside of Gotham, none of their teammates know they’re related. This series explores the shenanigans that the Bats get up to, as well as how this distinction would affect canon.

Momo's Notes: This one is a series rather than a single fic and I love it so much. When Dick first decides he wants to break away from Batman's shadow Bruce agrees to keep their affiliation with each other secret, with one caveat. If either of them call a 'code bat' the other drops everything immediately and comes to help. As they add on to the family the secrets they're keeping from their non-Gotham friends and teammates piles up but it serves to keep the younger, less trained members of the family safe from the older heroes' enemies so they keep it going, each new family member agreeing to the Code Bat protocol when outside of Gotham, complete with entirely different hero names and costumes. It's interesting seeing a Justice League, Titans, Outsiders, Outlaws, and Young Justice that has no idea the Batfamily even a thing even as certain team members sometimes act super shifty when dealing with other teams or after getting a sudden, secret message.

I'm not a villain, I swear! by CoyoteFang1987

Summary:

Tim wakes up in a world in which Batman doesn't exist. And by consequence, the Robins never became heroes. Dick is a Talon, Jason is Red Hood (a villain), and Damian is a League of Assassins assassin. And Tim apparently is a hero called Draken, who, frankly, sucks at being a hero. And in this weird alternate reality, something big is brewing and Batman isn't here to keep the Justice League from tearing itself apart. Tim is really really done with everything. Dick, Jason, and Damian aren't helping. Tim really really hates magic as well.

Momo's Notes: Tim, Dick, Jason, and Damian all wake up in a world where Batman doesn't exist, Bruce Wayne might be the new Lex Luthor, and 3/4 of the Batfam appear to be villains working for various organizations. There's a lot of fun shenanigans going on in this one and all four brothers have good relationships with each other so we get to see them being effortlessly badass together. The Dick/Wally in this is also adorable.

You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514

Summary:

Bruce doesn’t know what’s wrong with his child, but he’s pretty sure kids aren’t meant to work like this. From the day he had looked up into the tops of the circus tent and saw a frightened mirror image of a boy who had just experienced the worst day of his life, Bruce had instantly gone into emergency mode. The Gotham PD had wanted to pass the boy off into the care of the circus. The circus had mumbled underneath their breaths about superstitions, about not having a boy like that with them, about not being able to handle something like Dick. So GCPD, not knowing what to do, had started talking about one of the handful of overburdened boy homes that handles a majority of Gotham’s unlucky orphans. All the while, the camera lights flash bright and loud, wanting to know everything. Bruce couldn’t let that happen. Not then, not ever again.

Momo's Notes: This is one of the most unique cryptid AUs I think I've ever read. Bruce's only human child in this is Damian and the variety of magical creature the older 3 batbros are is really neat. The way their abilities and nature interact with each other is also really sweet. For anyone who's a sucker for good dad Bruce, this one is sure to make you happy.

Keep Losing Sleep by incogneat_oh

Summary:

“When’d you last sleep?” Jay asks, curious. “Eleven years ago,” Tim says, at the same time as Dick says, “Tuesday.”

Momo's Notes: In a family as traumatized as this, it makes sense that more than one of them would have trouble sleeping. This is super short but a lovely little glance into the family just being there for each other when sleep won't come.

Brightly Colored Adhesive Papers by LuminaStarCrest

Summary:

Tim liked to show people that he loves them by leaving around sticky notes. Or, 5 times Tim left sticky notes for others to find, and 1 time he found sticky notes that he didn’t write

Momo's Notes: Another one that's short but sweet! My favorite part in this is probably the pure sass between Tim and Jason but Tim doing his emotional support Robin thing and making Bruce get some damn sleep is a close second lol

Cannonball by SunnyBlue

Summary:

Why is it always Tim that disappears? If it was any of the rest of them, it would be a lot less concerning. It’s not like Tim can’t hold his own in a fight — he’s a Bat, after all — but the kid has a tendency to form the craziest plans out of all of them, which often ends up putting him in the craziest situations. When Tim goes missing, it usually means he’s in some deep shit, and Tim in deep shit means Jason scrambling every time. Without fail. This fucking kid. Tim is missing and his brothers track him down and bring him home. Also everybody loves each other and isn't so incredibly emotionally constipated because I just want them to be happy and because I'm the author and I said so.

Momo's Notes: I kinda love Jason's pov in friendly Batfam fics. This one is Jason and Dick terrified and furious as they rush to Tim's rescue with bonus points for the quick bit of Tim and Damian bonding the author added.

Loading and Aspect Ratio by JUBE514

Summary:

So, it didn’t start out like this. Alfred would scoff at the statement, about how Bruce was trying to justify the whole situation to himself. It had started out as a simple design, black everything with black outlines and black hood. It got a little more intense as the world went on, got wind of his ghost on the streets, and became scared of The Bat . So Bruce got a little more creative with it, Alfred and him had a good laugh over the name, the scare, and Alfred had a vicious streak of humor that he had passed onto his ward- So now the suit had a visible bat-theme, an insignia to drape in the shadows and to paint across the streets of Gotham. It only took a year into the whole charade of heroism for Bruce to overhear a conversation between some goons- some low level thug hired by the Riddler this week- about nothing at all pertaining to what the hell the Riddler was doing in the sewers but instead: “ The Batman can fly, you know, I’ve seen his wings.” -- A world where nobody has wings, but people think they do, and that changes everything.

Momo's Notes: This is another fun AU with lots of Batfamily bonding and badassery. Bruce makes his cape wing shaped to further scare the hell out of Gotham criminals but it's little baby Dickie, freshly adopted and traumatized, who convinces him to make them actual capable of flight. The Batfam never claimed to be metas but the rest of the world, especially the Justice League, decided that's what they were anyway. It came in clutch tho. The main pairing in this is SuperBat and they are freaking adorable.

The Waynes, Damsels in Distress by hitthedeck

Summary:

Roses are red, violets are blue, Bruce Wayne and his kids get kidnapped every other week. Some things are just universal, undeniable facts of life.Or, in which Bruce Wayne is still Batman and his kids are still Robins, but they keep letting themselves get kidnapped because they think it's funny.

Momo's Notes: People forget that Bruce Wayne raised Dick Grayson to be how he is and the two of them share the same warped sense of humor that let them shout puns while beating up criminals and put "Bat" in front of freaking EVERYTHING with a straight face. This fic is just the Batfam fucking with the JLA for their own sick amusement. I love them.

Here's a Reminder (That You Haven't Fallen Through the Cracks) by popsunner

Summary:

If it’s a salesperson, he’ll shove them a hundred dollar tip and tell them to go away, if it’s some religious do gooder, he’ll direct them to Metropolis. If it’s a Rogue, he’ll tell them he’s busy and to please get in the fucking line. If it’s one of his siblings-- “Hey, Tim!” Dick says brightly, forearm braced against the doorframe. Dammit.

Momo's Notes: Finally a fic that gives Cass and Duke some love! This is a short one where Tim's siblings drive him up the wall out of love and concern for their workaholic weirdo brother. The snark and sass is flowing freely and the JLA's best detective/spies are being about as subtle as a brick to the head lol.

To Rescue a Bat by Blueseabird2

Summary:

Batman gets into a situation during an alien invasion and could use a rescue. Unfortunately, Dick and Jason don't think the Justice League is up for the task. At all. So Dick lets the League know that he will be handling the situation and to expect Batman back by the end of the night. He even promises that he won't be going alone. No one should stand in the way of a Batfamily rescue, even if the Justice League doesn't know there's a Batfamily at all.

Momo's Notes: I love the closeness Dick and Jason share in this one. Jason and Dick are two older brothers who both struggle with the towering rage simmering just below the surface at all times and in this fic they've come to lean on each other for support. When most of the JLA's leadership is captured and the ransom video shows Bruce to be on borrowed time Dick decides it's time to let that anger loose a little and Jason is ready to back him up (with attitude of course, but still). With their fellow Batfamily members (both official and honorary) right beside them they decide it's the perfect time to reveal their affiliation with Batman to save their dad. Bruce is SO fucking proud.

Monolith by CharlesWaterloo

Summary:

Diana realised with a jolt that none of them had actually asked him how he knew Batman. And she was just as curious as the rest of them about the “we”. It implied Batman worked with more people. ‘How did you come to know Batman? Does he have any other friends?’ His mouth fell open, and he snorted, which evolved into full-out laughter. ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god - friends?’ Diana felt a little hurt on Batman’s behalf. ‘Are you not his friend?' He shook his head. ‘Did B really not say anything? I’m hurt. No, I’m not his friend. I’m his son.’ (An AU where the Justice League haven't met any of Bruce's kids.)

Momo's Notes: The Justice League isn't aware of Batman's identity or that he's a father. When Dick needs to sub in for Bruce at a JL meeting, though, and he realizes this? Cue the sibling shenanigans! Bonus points for Duke, Cass, and Steph getting some attention and praise in this one!

Batman/men? by Bumpkin

Summary:

Batman wasn’t a founding member of the Justice League, and isn’t known for playing well with other heroes. But he does end up joining, and he does try to get along while still keeping his secrets close. It’s a delicate balancing act. Then comes a mission that requires Batman to be the lynchpin for their success. Except there’s a problem with the execution of the plan, Batman would have to be in several places at once. He’s confident he can do it. The Justice League, for lack of any alternatives, can only go along and in the process learn more about their reclusive teammate.

Momo's Notes: Another fic that's short but fun where the Justice League isn't aware of the Batfam's existence and it's entirely in non-Batfam povs over the course of an important mission where Batman seemingly needs to be in several places at once and… succeeds? Easily?

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ddiidi · 8 months ago

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bf!Bangchan x gn!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

When he calls you clingy, so you distance yourself

Previous Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Next Pt. 3

!Warnings: angst, swearing, fun at the end bc reader needs fun in life (lmk if i missed anything)

Important!Side-Note!: Should I do a happy ending for them?

It has been 3 days since that incident. 3 days and still not a single message from Chan, not even an apology for yelling at you, nothing. You've been texting him every now and then, to ask if he's okay, eats and sleeps. He never replied to any of them, nor has he seen them, so you spend most of the time packing your stuff and working from home. You were glad you had a job you also could work from home for. Every now and then, you went over to the building, to check a few things, walking extra detours, to make sure, you won't bump into Chan.

A few of the other members texted you the past days, asking if everything is okay and why the haven't seen you around for a while, to which you just replied with "Busy with work and private stuff, dww:)". It made you happy they actually care that much about you, just because they haven't seen you in a few days, but also anxious and sad, since they care, but chan hasn't even shown any intress in you the past days. You weren't even able to tell him that you're moving.

More days pass, and a few days, turn into a week of no textes from Chan. At this point, you wondered if he even knew that you still exist.

So here you were, in your old apartment, stuffed with boxes, not being able to get your mind off chan and his well-being, even though, you're still deeply hurt from what he said, you couldn't just not not care about him....He pointed out two of your insecurities, just like that as if it was nothing and he doesn't even care...not about you not your feelings.

You let out a deep sigh. You should be getting ready for a day with your friends. Not think about some man, who happened to be the love of your life, who calls you his partner, but doesn't even know how to cherish you.

You let out another, heavy, sigh as you drop to the floor to put on your shoes, Let's just focus on having a great time today, you thought to yourself and left the apartment.

Well, maybe it was not the best decision to go out today...

Chan for his part, had to listen to a lectur from Felix, after you ran out, crying. "Chris..you really shouldn't have said all that to her. I understand that you were annoyed or whatever, but that was no reason to yell at her" "Really now? They were just being a fucking, clingy and annoying crybaby that couldn't take no for an answer, for whatever reason." chan sighed out, at the younger member. "That crybaby...was really uncalled for chris. They're your partner, not some random person on the street you can yell at. I wouldn't wonder if they took that "Leave me alone" to heart and actually leave you after that action." "But I-" chan starts, "I'm just saying chris. You better fix this before it's too late. After what you pulled, partners are faster gone than you could blink" with that, Felix leaves the room, leaving Chan alone, again.

Since that talk, Chan locked himself in his studio, thinking about the best way to apologize for what he said. But he couldn't find one. No matter how long he thought, days, a whole week, there was nothing but regret. He just had to apologize in person and beg for forgivness, hoping that you'd actually forgive him.

So there he was, with a giant bouquet of flowers, fresh clothes and hope.

He had the code to your apartment, so he opened the door, ready to be greeted by the warm, wide open hallway, but was greeted with the cold gray of bunch of boxes instead and the first thing he felt, was panic."Y/n? Y/n are you there?" he yelled, as he ran through your whole apartment, but as he saw that even all your date polaroid pictures where gone, he couldn't help but panic even more.

He let's the flowers fall on the floor, running to your room and nearly collapsed when he found..nothing. Where were you? Did you actually go? Did you actually leave him? All these questions consumed his head and that's when he broke, crying to the point he couldn't breath. He took out his phone and called the first number he saw in his recent calls. It peeped a few times, before someone took the call.

"Hey Chris everything alr-" "They're gone! Felix they're gone, they're not here i don't know what to do! I've never meant it I was just-" chan cried and gasped out at felix on the other line. "Woah there calm down, try to breath I don't understand a word. Relax, I'll be there okay? You know there is an explination for everything, that's what you always say, so try to relax it's okay" Felix tried to soothen the older man, while grabbing his keys and running out to his car. Chan didn't reply anything to that and continued soobing.

I have your location, I'll be there in 5." that's the last thing chan heared from felix, before he collapsed on the floor in your apartment.

And you? You were drinking coffee with your friends, while your bestie told you guys a story how she saw a horse that nearly drowned.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧✧༺🖤༻✧☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

@finnbbl @wolfs-howling

#stray kids #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #christopher bang #bang chan stray kids #lee felix #bang chan angst

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clovers-housetree · 9 months ago

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Activities for Regressors Without Caregivers! (or just fun regression activties!)

(Although you're always welcome here if you'd like any form of comfort anyway! ^w^)

This one's kind of a long one, after the few tips I list, I've mentioned an app I use called Finch, which will be talked about below the cut.

Since that's the case, I'll put my little ending message here instead:

Knowing how to take care of yourself can take a lot of work and practice, but I believe it's worth the effort, because then you'll be a happier and healthier you! Especially if you can find ways to make it fun!

I'm more than happy to be here for you and offer my support in any way I can, anyhow! I'm proud of you for doing what you can, I know it can be very hard.

I myself don't have a caregiver for when I regress, so most of the time I end up taking care of myself! Here are some fun activities and things I do when I regress to keep myself calm and happy! ^w^

Paci mentions/pics not long after the first section for those of you who'd rather not see 'em.

♥ Arts and crafts! I absolutely LOVE coloring and making bracelets with beads, something not too complicated for little hands, but also something fun!

With coloring, you can buy coloring books, or draw something of your own to color in- even printing out a page you find online, coloring digitally, or tracing over something to color in could work! I prefer coloring more than drawing personally because I don't draw all the time, but I bet I could learn a little thing or two from the artists around here!

For bracelets (and other jewelry), strings can be hard to knot with little hands (at least they aren't those small, slippery clasps!!), but the beads shouldn't be too hard to handle if you're careful! Even just planning out patterns is fun!

Here are some My Little Pony bracelets I made, and the decorations I did for my pacis!

♥ Making playlists! Dancing is fun, and a good way to get the zoomies out, but you can just make playlists for any occasion! I have playlists that help me pet-regress, songs with sounds I like, adventure playlists... (Well- a lot of these are still in progress, but- you get the point!)

I also love those playlist videos on YouTube! Animal Crossing, Super Mario Galaxy, Minecraft and music box music are typically my go-to to help me settle or just make for comfy background music! Here's one of my favorites, shadowatnoon has lovely Nintendo music mixes!

♥ Playing with your plushies! You can take them on adventures, or make your own!

Like Toby, climbing The Great Pillow Mountain!

(This is Toby by the way, he's one of my best friends and a VERY good hugger!)

You can play games with them, too! Toby's REALLY good at hide and seek... Maybe you can find him for me? :0

♥ Finding shows to watch! I really like Paw Patrol and Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at the moment. Plus, you can look at agere content and fics from shows you like! People make really cool stimboards and moodboards, for example, and I like reading through all the fun stories people write!

Here's a silly picture of Rocky I found! :3

Finch

Finch is a self-care app where you take care of your very own little bird friend by taking care of yourself!

You can set daily goals, or for each day (or more specific ones as well I think.). By completing these goals, you give your bird energy to go on adventures! They usually come back with a funny little story or silly questions, because they're learning, too!

Through completing these goals (or daily, at least), you can get Rainbow Stones, which you can use to buy clothes for your bird, make them different colors, or give them furniture for their house!

They're also LGBTQ+ and disability-friendly!! :3

This is my little bird, Honeydew! You're welcome to friend me as well if you'd like, my code is: Z3E2T7VRK6

It's helped me learn a lot about taking care of myself and keeping track of my goals, and I get little rewards for it! I've used the app for several months now, and it's helped me out a lot!

"Fluttershy protects this blog! SFW interaction only, please and thank you! ^w^"

"Wouldn't show a kid? Doesn't belong here!"

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lostinlovingrevery · 2 months ago

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BLURB REQUEST Van I beg!!!

sending oldman!logan nudes/sexting whichever you are okay with writing etc and him being flustered etc plus his beef with technology (🚫 microwaves) OR taking polaroids pics for him to keep in his wallet or whatever while he passes time (withers away) in the limo 🤪🤪🤪

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

OMG I actually have an earlier request with old man Logan attempting to use technology, I can't wait to start on that bc it's so cute

Seriously, all my requests are so fun and unique and I JUST WISH I could devote my time writing you all honestly <3 (one day...one day..I'm crawling there)

ALSO I LOVE how you included my headcanon that he hates microwaves in there. I'm literally so hellbent on this idea and I'm glad others are agreeing LMAO

This is gonna be sweet and funny, nsfw below!!

"For fucks sake..." He mumbles under his breath, as he attempts to type in the the security code for the hundredth goddamn time. He's not sure if his fingers are too big, if he's typing it in wrong, or the fact no matter what, technology just seemed to hate his cranky elderly ass.

This time he managed to succeed, his phone allowed him to come through, and he can finally reach the messages you sent him. It filled him with worry at first- it was late, you should be in bed.

Then he opened the chat and was greeted with something much more.

He let out a small breath of surprise, lips slightly parted as he squinted at the screen, holding his phone away from his face as he made out what looked to be your sweet ass in that nice lacey pair of panties he bought you last weekend.

He wanted to see the perfect details of your naughty photo- so he begrudgingly pulled out his readers, sticking them on, allowing him to admire the curve of your ass, the sweet bulge of your cunt just barely visible. He let out a deep breath, as he scrolled down to find more dirty photos and your words.

"Miss you <3"

He grinned to himself, as he moved to text you back, but now the keyboard won't cooperate with him. It keeps appearing and disappearing, not typing the letters he was actually typing.

"Fucking..." He grumbled, hitting a button and the app disappears. He tips his head back, and annoyed sigh as he felt the sharp points of his claws pricking at his skin as he felt the urge to stab the claws through his phone.

Wouldn't be the first time.

He reopened the app, instead focusing on the sweet, sweet photos you sent him to keep him company to calm himself down. You had posed yourself in several provocative positions, allowing him to admire all the ways the panties- the only thing you had on, fit you perfectly. He felt a twitch in his pants, his hand reaching down to cup his member and gently massage it as he stared at the photos, becoming enamored by your beauty.

It was becoming too much, and he needed to hear your voice. Hoping you're still awake (since opening his phone became an ordeal) he tapped the call button next to your name. He waited as he listened to it ring, still groping himself through the pants.

"Hi baby..." Your voice finally came up on the other end. "Enjoy the pictures?"

"damn right I did." He mumbled. "still wearing those?"

"Mhm. They'll be on when you get home."

A warm chuckle. "Good girl. You feeling lonely tonight?"

"Lil bit." You reply.

"I'll make up for it baby, but I gotta ask you for a favor?"

"Anything-" He hears your excitement, making him smirk.

"Remember that old poloroid camera in the closet?"

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #vans daydreams #vans blurbs #atomicmystery

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hyunjining · 5 months ago

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my thoughts on every song on hop, so that i don’t have to make a million different posts (in case you care)

walkin' on water - catchyyyy af. changbin's verse at the beginning is soooo perfectly old school hiphop. imitating record scratches vocally and through wordplay is so silly and so skz and i think this whole song is just fun

bounce back - I DON'T GIVE A SHIT MOVE IF YOU WANNA LIVE!!!! literally a masterpiece. perhaps not the epitome of my music taste, but the production, the flows, and the attitude are undeniably spectacular. the whistling in the intro is the best thing i've ever heard no joke. holy shit stray kids you are so fucking good at what you do please make music forever

u (ft. tablo) - the VOCALS!!!! everyone sounds so fucking good here wowee.... the instrumental in the chorus is so pretty and melancholy.

walkin' on water (hip ver.) - this is batshit insane lmao. i saw people saying this version should have been the tt but i like it as walkin on water’s unhinged secret twin

railway - obviously very sexy but also just so gorgeous production wise. it sounds so grand and a bit menacing. we have GOT to start praising bang chan’s vocals more. i love that this is his favorite genre of music because it suits him so well.

unfair - the lyrics are so felix in the best way; my heart is so warm thinking about him writing this with the message that everyone is deserving of love. his voice has so much range and i LOVE to hear him sing confidently.

hallucination - it sounds sooo crisp. jeongin’s tone is perfect for this song. all the little sounds in the background that you couldn't hear in the live version are so cool. the CASTANETS. in my expert opinion, this fits into the category of gay people music. maybe my favorite solo. hurry hurry hurry~

youth - show me whatchu wanna do!!!! this song makes me so fucking happy and i feel like i want to jump around the room. lee know has one of my favorite voices ever and i would genuinely listen to him sing anything but i love this upbeat style for him

so good - the INTRO. the instrumental is soooo cool. i’ll never forget hearing this for the first time through a shitty audio stream on twitter and immediately perking up. the "oh. my. GAWD." is so cunty hwang hyunjin i am obsessed with you. i can't believe he wrote this song as a joke lmfao it's well. so good.

ultra - a banger. i’m obsessed with the fact that the instrumental gets noisier as the song goes on, in alignment with changbin's explanation that he's meant to be building up and then releasing energy by the end. i don’t go to raves but if i did i would need to hear this song play at one. i just love it when changbin goes all out with the edm

hold my hand - so anime coded, because of course. this is a perfect combination of han's love of rock and rap. thinking of the layers of meaning to this song is so overwhelming and honestly i just hope that han jisung is happy forever and always makes music because this is absolutely what he was born to do.

as we are - i’m speechless. this song is STUNNING. it gives me so many warm and fuzzy feelings and i don’t even need to know the lyrics to feel emotional while listening to it. how am i supposed to get through his beautiful soft vocals in the first chorus without crying. i'm so fucking glad this man is a singer. half of the streams of this song are going to be me

#i love you stray kids and i love you stray kids music!!!!#skz #stray kids

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writingtraumaforever · 5 months ago

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Maria hugging Shadow every time he started to get upset or overwhelmed in Sonic X Shadow Generations is just a testament that physical touch and affection is one of his love languages and a comfort. But he’s so dang deprived of it because he doesn’t quite know how to initiate it and people are intimidated by him.

So here’s some Sonadow Headcanons based around this fact (bonus if you’re an Uncontrolled Chaos reader and imagine this in the form of Alternate Sonadow):

• The first time Shadow asks Sonic for a hug, he literally has no idea what to do with himself. But as soon as it hits him that this is something Shadow is more than okay with and even YEARNS for?? Sonic is all over it. Hugs and kisses all the time. Never stops. Touchy touchy, yes.

• Sonic isn’t a cuddler. Well. He is, but he moves too much in his sleep to stay cuddled. So to compromise this, he holds Shadow’s hand under the covers in their sleep, so they each know the other is there.

• Fun Fact: Tight embraces can help relieve panic attacks because they trigger the release of oxytocin, or the “love hormone”, while simultaneously lowering stress hormones and activating the parasympathetic nervous system responsible for relaxation. Tails tells Sonic this once. When Shadow gets overstimulated, Sonic makes it a point to comfort him by pulling him somewhere more quiet and dark and secluded so that his senses aren’t being overwhelmed and will hug him so tight that it’s all Shadow can think about until he’s calm again.

• They cuddle on the couch like. Every night. Shadow particularly likes it when his head is in Sonic’s lap and Sonic can absentmindedly rub through his quills and behind his ears. Sonic’s favorite is when he’s straddling Shadow’s lap, chest to chest, and his chin is resting on Shadow’s shoulder while Shadow rubs under his back quills.

• Shadow will seek comfort when in uncomfortable situations by hugging Sonic from behind or leaning against him while Sonic just continues doing whatever he’s doing. Sonic usually just reaches a hand up and scratches Shadow’s cheek or ear like it’s second nature to him. Their friends have learned to just ignore this.

• Shadow often finds words hard. Especially when they’re particularly more emotional and honest. So in moments of privacy where they can be more intimate, Shadow will take the point of his claw and ever so lightly trace the words he wishes he could say onto Sonic’s palm while they lay in bed together or lounge on the couch. Wherever they may be. Sonic finds this painfully endearing and also kinda fun to figure out what Shadow is spelling. It took him five times before he realized Shadow was spelling out ‘I love you’. This was, in fact, his first time expressing this, and Sonic just kissed his ear and pretended he had no idea while smiling like a big ole doofus.

• Shadow loves when Sonic brushes his quills. Or grooms him in general. He likes having Sonic lick his fur to get him all cleaned up and tidy and neat as hedgehogs do. And he, in turn, treasures when Sonic is still long enough to let Shadow pick the flowers and grass from his quills and lick his fur all clean too. Grooming is one of his favorite forms of intimacy and expressions of partnership.

• They have those bracelets that when you tap it, the other one’s vibrates to let them know they’re thinking about the other. It was Sonic’s idea when he saw an ad for them, figuring it would help in those times where they have to be apart for missions and stuff. Shadow literally was so starstruck over it and loved it from the get-go. He tapped his quite literally every ten minutes when he first got it just to let Sonic know he was constantly thinking of him. He had to stop this, though, when they had to change the batteries way too many times to count.. he’s now more controlled with how many times he taps it, and he will often send messages in Morse code. Sonic has no idea how to translate Morse code, but he Googles it every time and sends messages back if he can figure it out. This often leads to silly mistakes like ‘I miss yub.’ or ‘What are you weaking?’ but Shadow just finds that even more endearing that if they were correct, so it works out.

Bonus Platonic Headcanon:

• Rouge and Shadow holds hands. Like a lot. It’s rare they don’t hold hands in public settings. A lot of times, Shadow is holding Rouge’s hand more than Sonic’s even since Sonic tends to get a bit overstimulated by hand holding sometimes (makes him feel like he’s on a leash) and Rouge doesn’t mind at all.

#Sonadow #my headcanons #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #my posts #my post #my writing #uncontrolled chaos #UC series #rouge the bat #shadow is autistic #Sonic is autistic #Sonic has adhd

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ramons-elevator · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck it. Appreciation Post for the amazing QSMP admins.

Heres a list of just a small bit of the amazing shit that they did on/for the QSMP and its players:

Made a huge prison/event for Pac e Mike which later turned into a job for Fit for his lore

Helping Foolish out with his Titan by raising it up, lighting it up, and even making sure the brightness of the light blocks where okay for him

Listening to Fit and Phil the day the task was "Make a grappling squawk" and made it interesting with Walter Bob delivering the news

Making Gegg a reality and letting him run for president

Every event is so cool no matter how big or small. The dungeons the The Jaidens did was so fun and interesting. Every new players event is always chaos but very detailed. Even making stuff for French Independence day and the 4th of July so people could experience each other's cultures.

The amazing wedding cake and rings for Cellbit and Roier's wedding

Helping Tazercraft with the Hide and Seek Arena and making the code so they can actually play hide and seek easier

Giving Charlie, Roier, and Max (idk if theres more) key binds so they easily switch their skins and their names in game

The little jokes/ nods to stuff that happens on the server. Like the day after Missa came back and failed a water bucket clutch, they made one of the tasks "Have a water bucket competition".

Them elaborating on stuff that happens on the server. For instance, Bad putting up mini bulletin board at spawn so they keep everyone updated. So the admins started putting the newspaper there so people could see and be updated.

Philza found an insane mob that basically soft locked your game and Phil messaged the admins telling them that information, to which they immediately disabled the mob.

The side NPCs that everyone fall in love with them. From Walter Bob, a random admin who they let the players create a story and love for, to the Capybaras, which are basically the admins having fun but turned into them having their own lore.

The insane enigmas they make for Cellbit and the story it tells. They make the puzzles very detailed and sometimes can hint to other stories.

Fucking making Felps a new member

Making a button so people like Cellbit who frequently switch between Portuguese and English dont have to constant fiddle with the settings and can just switch easily

The fucking insane shit they do with Max and his story is so cool. From what Ive seen, they give him so much room and freedom to make what he wants. Im always so impressed by whatever Max does and the things he does with this server.

They make sure everyone's lore/story is seen/heard and also try to connect the lore together. From what I have seen, nothing is half assed. Cellbit finding books about a powerful weapon? It is used to trap Pac and Etoiles had to go through the nether to get the shield to counter the sword.

Lastly, just listening to the members and hearing their concerns while also letting them having fun. They joke with the members/audience, but also hearing them out when they think something is unjustified.

The admins care so much for this server and put so much work and love for it. I hope they know it never goes unappreciated or looked over.

#qsmp

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imaginesig · 11 months ago

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“Could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived”

pt2: "Ditch the clowns, get the crown / baby I'm the one to beat"

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

SMAU

The reader is a singer-songwriter who just broke up with long term fiancé Lewis Hamilton. Of course she wrote a gut wrenching album to cope.

This is gonna be a lot of shitting on Lewis— absolutely no hate! I just love a good heartbreak and the Tortured Poets Department

Also dates aren’t accurate bc I don’t have time to worry abt all that and I totally stole all of this from real life- not an ounce of originality

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, mercadesamgf1, user28, and 928,928 others

yn_ln: pinky promise to always by your side 🏎️

Tagged: lewishamilton

lewishamilton pinky promise to always be by YOUR side

yn_ln ♥️

mercadesamgf1 always a pleasure to host our pop princess!

yn_ln always a pleasure to be hosted!!

user1 looks always kill in the paddock

user2 ugh to be in the F1 paddock watching my driver fiancee on weekends I'n not touring

user3 stunning!!

user4 the pinky promise makes me physically ill😭

user5 fr WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

carmenmmundt gorgeous! Always a good time with you 🫶

yn_ln dinner soon?

carmenmmundt yes please!!

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lewishamilton

Liked by yn_ln, user2, mercadesamgf1, and 810,298 others

lewishamilton: could’ve been better but back to work for next week

Tagged: yn_ln

user1 being a Hamilton fan used to be fun, I used to be happy

user2 the second photo is so fanfic coded I can't

user3 omg yes!!

user4 maybe Ferrari will be championship #8

user5 hottest couple in the paddock

mercadesamgf1 watch out Australia 👊💥

yn_ln

Liked by lewishamilton, sabrinacarpender, user92, and 929,290 others

yn_ln: Argentina I’m so glad we were able to dance my best dress with you! Until next time 🫶🎇

tagged: no one

user1 BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE

user2 babe wake up a dancing Taylor post just dropped

sabrinacarpender such an electric crowd!!

yn_ln thank you for your hype work

lewishamilton: wonderful show once again!!

user3 best night ever

user4 AHHH STUNNING

user5 manifesting tickets so hard rn

lewishamilton posted a story

Caption: Help me hold on to you ♥️

ynupdates

Liked by user1, user5, user9, and 819,109 others

ynupdates: Superstar Y/n L/n and boyfriend Lewis Hamilton after her show in Argentina!!

tagged: lewishamilton, yn_ln

user1 LMAO the update account rlly said she's everything and he's just Ken

user2 the wine was iconic!!

user3 omg that's my photo!!

user4 we thank you for your service

user5 you know she was jumping with joy bc of those boots

user6 omg irl! I can't imagine how her feet feel after heels all show

user7 they are so sweet

user8 get yourself a man who takes you out after work

user9 my fav couple fr fr

Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by sabrinacarpender, carmenmmundt, user9, and 928,029 others

ln_yn: Round of applause for Brazil for their incredible rain show!!

tagged no one

user1 the first pic 😳

user2 chills, literal chills

user3 the entire vibes of the whole show was wow

user4 I agree and I was watching through a fuzzy live stream

user5 anybody else need illicit affairs (angry verson) on Spotify now

user6 me me me!!

user7 Y/n make it happen

user8 it kinda felt personal ngl

user9 best night ever!! I went as fearless in a gold dress and to say I danced in a storm in my “best dress” with Y/n was incredible!!

user10 omg that’s so lucky!!

yn_ln

liked by user92, sabrinacarpender, girlsinred, and 928,929 others

yn_ln: Thank you South America for welcoming me with open arms for this leg of the tour!! I will miss you all dearly over break but rest and relaxation is important for an awesome European leg!!

tagged: no one

user1 I’m gonna miss the fuzzy live streams 😭

user2 gets some rest Queen!!

user3 I can’t wait for the second leg!! Let’s go Europe🫶🫶

user4 it’s go time to get my Eras outfit

user8 I need ideas!!

user4 me and my boyfriend are going as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

user9 I’m dressing in a white dress with a small veil that says “fucked in the head” and messed up makeup bc champagne problems is one of my favs

user10 I love it!!

user5 anybody else sad Lewis wasn’t at these last few shows, nor was she at any races or seen near mercades home base

user6 they’ve been together for 6 years, I’m not worried abt them spending some time focused on their jobs without each other

user7 yea and they’re really private so I’m sure they’ll catch up plenty during her break

lewishamilton

liked by mercadesamgf1, user1, user8, and 928,292 others

lewishamilton: not the results we needed but that’s what growing is all about

tagged: no one

comments have been disabled

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussel, mercadesamgf1, user83, and 718,292 others

lewishamilton: that’s P2💪

tagged: no one

mercadesamgf1 that's our driver!!🏆

georgerussell congrats man! bloody good driving today

lewishamilton double point weekend

comments have been limited

Twitter—

yn_ln

liked by user4, user9, ynhq, and 918,918 others

yn_ln: All’s fair in love and poetry, April 4th

tagged: no one

comments have been limited

Twitter pre-album release—

Twitter post-album release—

yn_ln

liked by: user433, user94, user93, and 282,209 others

yn_ln: surprise!! "The Tortured Poets Department: Eros" out now!! This edition includes two new songs, "So High School" and "The Alchemy"

tagged: no one

comments have been disabled

#f1 #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 smau #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #smau #the tortured poets department #formula 1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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timkontheunsure · 10 months ago

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Part 1 Blitz & BPD coding

Ok quick bit first before getting into the nitty-gritty. So to have BPD you need to have 5 of these 9 traits:-

(putting as by proxy with him cus damage your image is harmful to your psyche).

Poor bugger looks to have 9 of 9

Alot of BPD patterns and strategies comes from childhood trauma, and Blitz has this in spades.

Scapegoat and attachment style

Cash is clearly a narcissistic Dad, see the kids as tools.

Cash uses Blitz's love and Strong attachment to his Mum to force Blitz to be useful to him, and do what he wants.

This sends the very strong message that love is conditional. That it is bought through what he can do for another. And that without being useful love and affection will be withdrawn, because he doesn't really deserve it.

We see wee tinny Blitzo struggles with making balloon animals, is a little clumsy, has a sense of humour that not a crowd pleaser. This puts him at the bottom of the pecking order.

This position is the scapegoat. Blamed for anything that goes wrong (fire), to keep the others in line (Fizz told done on purpose), given the most dangerous jobs (rob a Goetia), and given the lest love and affection.

Narcissist see people as tools or a burden. All love from Cash is conditional/transactional.

How Blitz gets love is to be used or to be useful. This the rule.

Affection freely given can't be trusted. It is a lie. This why any Stolas shows has to be either ignored, or change to a kink of "getting plowed by people you look down on". Making himself used.

But Stolas breaks this when he says Blitz "no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me, you are... you are free of me." He panics that he's being abandoned; "I can be better", "I'm I not fucking you good enough" are his immediate responses. Trying to get back to the safety of what he knows.

If they're no 'obligation' then there can't be affection and he wants to Stay with Stolas. And if there's no 'obligation' Stolas telling him he cares must be a lie.

He's slowly coming to see that this isn't always the case in apology tour; when his "earning" his way through sex is rebuffed again.

(It may not be Stolas' kink; but being fucked by an all powerful prince who degraded his a little might be Blitz's 🤭).

After the accident this rule gets a second fun extra playmate that anyone who loves him will be hurt. So Blitz must push them way, to keep them safe from him. These 2 rules give Blitz the disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment style. (Woo go him, give him a cookie. Or you know all the nope, but still give him a cookie).

Disorganised fearful-avoidant attachment comes with a push-pull of wanting to be close but close relationships are scary. (Like running away from Voroskia for loving him).

He is getting better by refusing to be dismissed by Stolas, and coming back the next morning. And even talking to him at the party.

But mostly this bit: "Oh, sorry, this entire time I assumed the worst because I was convinced a prince could never love someone like me, and I've let my self hatred stop me from apologizing to anyone I could ever care about!" Blitz in a nutshell everybody.

His self hatred makes him to self sabotage any romantic relationship before it gets to deep. To protect the people he likes and makes sure they can't love him. Because he doesn't deserve it. Thems the rules after all.

Cash and the accident has taught Blitz to hate himself.

It's also likely why Blitz thinks apologies are for pussys, and that no one deserves one anyway. Those sound like words put in his mouth for daring to ask his dad to say sorry.

He doesn't think he's worth it.

(Added the cuddles pic cus I like the cuddles). And Blitz still doesn't trust that he deserved to be forgiven by Fizz.

This self hatred is why he can't picture anyone loving him, let alone Stolas

"This whole thing we had going... I'm- I mean you're a fucking prince. How could you ever actually care for an imp... Me? How could anybody?" "Stolas, you are better off without me. 'Kay? You deserve so much... I don't even".

No one is allowed to want him.

End of part 1

I'll stick the link to the next part when I get done it, but might be a bit.

Next time some such fun shenanigans as:

Difficulty regulating emotions

Being a burden & how to be useful to IMP

Spitting

Massive fear of abandonment

Emotional loops

The Deal

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Self hatred & the Belief others Must hate him

(his cookie)

As normal is absolutely fine if you don't agree. This is just something I like to do.

#helluva boss #blitz helluva boss #bpd coded #I'm knackered and this is probably less than a third of this #Honestly I'm being trying to get this right for months now #I'm very slow at writing analysis

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crosshairlovebot · 6 months ago

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bewitching mr. batchbury / crosshair x f!reader

pairing: crosshair x f!reader

description: ever since you met him and he ignored you, mr. batchbury has completely infuriated you. but as you spend time with the batchbury's as their sister's companion for the social season, your feelings for him become confusing and you cannot get the handsome silver-haired man out of your head.

REGENCY AU

word count: 8,649

warnings: none. kissing (making out, neck kisses). secret crushes. hate to love. misunderstandings. crosshair being annoying.

after writing regency hunter i knew i had to write regency crosshair too :') this exists in the same universe as hunter's piece so there are allusions to his romance :) this was so fun to write! crosshair has always been mr darcy coded to me so there's definitely an influence from p&p! i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

PART ONE

Mr. Carlisle ‘Crosshair’ Batchbury was completely and utterly infuriating. It did not matter that he was cripplingly handsome, uniquely distinguished by his strange grey hair, tall and lean stature, and a smattering of a port wine birthmark over his right eye – his personality was maddening.

And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Acting as a companion to his little sister, Meg Batchbury, for London’s social season, you had spent many hours in the presence of the infamous Batchbury Brothers.

After returning from the war where they had started as lowly soldiers trained under a Commodore of the Royal Navy, they had made their fortune by collecting a wealth of prize money with an unbroken streak of successful battles. The band of brothers had been the talk of the ton, their rise from rags to riches captivating every gentleman and woman – but it was the mamas and their daughters who found themselves completely taken by them. When they’d ascertained the brothers had only enlisted to secure a future for their sister, their hearts were all of a flutter – for handsome, brave soldiers who were family men made perfect husbands.

The eldest Batchbury – Hunter – was already married, much to their dismay. But that still left three viable brothers for them to sink their lacey fans and dance cards into. When they’d heard the Batchbury’s would be attending this year’s social season, cries of delight were heard across the ton.

As a favour to your friend – the eldest Batchbury Brother’s wife, you’d promised you would accompany Meg to various balls and act as her companion and confidant for the season. Meg had expressed her desire to attend this year, now that her brothers had returned home. She’d been regaled with tales of fancy parties, endless food and dancing, and wanted to experience it for herself.

“It’s…a little more than that, Meg,” you’d told her carefully, cautious of her ideas that had seemed to be formed naively. “The point of these balls and parties is for matchmaking.”

Meg had waved her hand, dismissing your words. “Oh, I am aware. But I’m not interested in such things at present.”

You’d frowned. “But attending the social season does send the message that you are interested.”

Meg just grinned ruefully and shrugged. “Then I’ll just do my best to avoid it.”

You had shaken your head, smiling along with her. You’d sighed with some relief, knowing you’d not have to try and steer her from unsuitable matches or chaperone strolls in Hyde Park and could just simply enjoy time spent at extravagant balls and luncheons.

You were past the age of eligibility and the thought of simply attending a London social season to enjoy it was simultaneously scary and exciting. To know there were no expectations on you from your own family or on Meg, it was freeing.

You had joined the Batchbury’s at their London residence, and from the very moment you set foot inside the newly acquired townhouse, your eyes were drawn to the youngest Batchbury brother, Crosshair.

You’d been welcomed enthusiastically by Meg, who had petitioned her brothers to attend the London social season, much to their behest. But they had been kind and amiable when you were first introduced. You hadn’t been sure what to expect, but you had been surprised at how large they all were, and their history as soldiers was clear with their injuries and the weathered look of their faces. You already knew Hunter, who’d just returned from his honeymoon and itching to return to the country to his wife, but Wrecker and Tech had all been a picture of politeness upon introductions, meeting you with manners that were clearly practised. But Crosshair had stood behind, arms crossed, a scowl etched into his brow with no sign of it disappearing. He’d immediately met you with hard eyes the colour of coffee that were so scrutinising you had flinched.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Batchbury,” you’d said as you curtseyed, trying not to be bothered by his gaze.

Mr. Batchbury had looked you up and down, brow remaining creased as he seemingly evaluated you before his eyes met yours for a moment before looking away from you without greeting. You’d been puzzled by his lack of manners, and then hurt by his rejection and then angry, for who was he to be judging you? He did not even know you. And from that moment, Mr. Crosshair Batchbury was a rude annoyance you endured only for his siblings, despite his handsomeness – which only added to your irritation.

How cruel, for such beauty to be wasted on someone so dreadful.

He held that same hard gaze now, watching you from the other side of the Kenobi’s ballroom. The room was filled with people, and a string quartet played a cotillion that had those on the dance floor that separated you from Mr. Batchbury bouncing lively to the music.

It was the final ball of the season, and at the request of Meg, she wanted all the brothers in attendance tonight and they were completely powerless to say no.

Being in such close quarters with the four brothers for the season meant you not only saw their brash, loud, clever and cunning natures, but also the immense love they had for their sister. Each brother was different, but it was obvious what connected them all was their strong sense of family and loyalty. You had observed it all.

Wrecker’s love was boisterous and loud and coupled with fierce hugs and booming laughter. Tech’s affection was more subtle, but you’d find it in the way he consumed knowledge with the intent to share, to provide answers to questions his family asked; prepared for any situation. Hunter’s care was gentle and warm yet with a firmness that was steadfast and immovable. Crosshair, despite your feelings towards the other less amiable parts of his personality, showed love quietly, often through gesture or merely listening. He would grumble at Wrecker’s affection, but never push it away. He would listen to Tech’s ramblings even when everyone had vacated the room. And when Hunter’s strength managed to wane, Crosshair would swoop right in, ready to support in however he could.

Seeing this kind of love juxtaposed with the other parts of his caustic, sharp and, quite frankly, snarky personality was what vexed you the most; knowing he had the capacity for such softness and kindness but chose not to use it.

And actively chose not to use it with you.

You sipped your champagne, meeting his gaze from across the dance floor, ignoring the warmth that ignited your rest at his gaze. He mirrored your movements with his own glass of brandy, and you couldn’t help but drop your gaze to his lips that lay gently on the rim of the glass and think back to that moment in the greenhouse at the Across the Stars Ball where they were anything but gentle on your own.

Prince Anakin Skywalker and his wife, Queen Padme Amidala held their annual ‘Across the Stars’ ball at their London palace and it was the event of the social season. Everyone who was everyone in the ton was invited, and that now included the Batchbury family – much to Meg’s delight and her brother’s chagrin.

Meg had been ecstatic upon receiving the invitation and begged for her brothers to accept so that she could attend. As the first ball of the season, it was the first time all the brothers would be seen by the eyes of the ton, and you watched on from your place in the drawing room as they argued about etiquette and dancing, of which they had little experience.

“If we go, we will be expected to dance and socialise,” Hunter told his brothers.

“Sounds like a marvellous time!” Wrecker grinned, rising to his feet from where he sat on the settee that he practically dwarfed.

“You don’t know how to dance, Wrecker,” Tech pointed out from the armchair, raising an eyebrow as he looked up from his book, a wooden cane he used to aid his walking lent against the side table. He pushed his spectacles up his nose. “None of us do except for Hunter, who had clandestine lessons in a garden maze with his now wife.”

The eldest Batchbury blushed, port wine stain darkening as both Meg and Wrecker giggled. You smiled too, a book open on your lap.

Mr. Crosshair Batchbury remained silent from his seat on the writing desk, where he was penning something diligently in a notebook with his non-wooden hand.

Perhaps one of the most admirable traits about Mr. Batchbury was that he taught himself how to write with his left hand after losing his right in the war. Meg told you that he had spent weeks holed up in his room alone, practising his script until it was perfect and unsmudged. It was quite remarkable, to be so determined.

Now, he observed his siblings with his steely gaze as he casually dipped the end of the quill in ink, raising and lowering the feathered tool gently in the pot, sparing it no glance.

You always wondered what he was writing in that notebook. He never seemed to be without it. It lived in the back pocket of his trousers, and you’d often found him in different places throughout the townhouse, writing in it.

Once, early in your stay, you’d seen him lounging in a bay window that overlooked the streets of London, one leg outstretched and the notebook leaning on the other he’d pulled up as he wrote in careful hand. You’d almost walked past him, but your footsteps had stopped on their own accord. The sun was hitting him just right, bathing him in a golden glow that made the silver strands of his hair glitter and the warmth of his brown skin radiate through the small alcove. He had on a cream-coloured shirt, sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms, the collar of it wide and its ties undone, scandalously revealing the dip in his lean chest. His left side was closest to you, and his hand was poised so the side of it didn’t drag over the graphite words he'd just penned. You could see his wooden hand rest on the book to keep it steady.

He barely fit in the small space, one foot of his long legs pressed flat against the wall opposite him and half bent at the knee. He didn’t look comfortable, but he never really did anywhere in the house. He always looked like he was trying to slot himself into the new life they’d acquired but could never really find the right position for it to work.

When you thought back to that tableau, you were sure that was the moment you realised just how handsome he truly was, and the moment your thoughts and feelings for the standoffish and biting Mr. Batchbury became all muddled.

Sensing your eyes on him, you watched him flick his gaze to yours. “What?”

You flinched as his hard brown-eyed gaze landed on yours with a piercing fierceness. “Nothing. My apologies.”

Mr. Batchbury looked at you, his eyes trailing over you before moving back to your face, studying it before he returned his gaze to his writing, pencil moving once again.

You swallowed as you watched his movements, and the words fell out of you before you could stop them. “What are you writing?”

Mr. Batchbury froze, and he looked at you with a scrutinising regard. “Why?”

“I’m just curious. You never send any letters, and whenever I see you, you’re always penning something.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and continued on, suddenly trying to bridge this distance between you that both puzzled and annoyed you. “It must be something you love.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“What you’re writing.” Your face burned, but maybe if you found a connection; a common ground, then maybe this strange dynamic between you would end. “If you return to it every day, you must love it.”

Mr. Batchbury stared at you before slamming his notebook closed and standing up. You watched him as he sent you a scathing look, eyes hard and port wine stain a deep red. He brushed past you without another word before stalking away. You were shocked and completely and utterly confused. What had you said? What had you done? But your befuddlement just returned to the anger and disdain you’d already held, but now multiplied.

Mr. Batchbury was rude and unapproachable, nothing you did would change that. So, you were done being amiable towards him. No matter how attractive he was.

Coming back from your memory to the drawing room, you shut your book and stood, making your way across the room, nearing the writing desk.

“Perhaps I could give you all some lessons? So you can dance once or twice to keep up appearances. I would suspect that the quadrille would be easily mastered by former soldiers.”

Wrecker and Meg’s eyes lit up and they spoke simultaneously. “Would you?”

You smiled at them and nodded. “I would be happy to. Dancing is the best way to spend a party.”

“And build affection between partners,” Meg smiled, reciting something you’d told her.

“Well, yes, that too,” you smiled, and you saw something grey move in the corner of your eyes as Meg jumped up darted towards you to through her arms around you. “How wonderful! We can start lessons this afternoon, so we are ready for the ball on Saturday.”

“Whatever you want, Meg,” you gently untangled her from you and clasped her hands.

She grinned, squeezing your hands before turning to her brothers, of whom Wrecker and Hunter seemed genuinely happy for her. “Isn’t this exciting? A real ball!”

“Yes. It is most thrilling,” Tech kept his eyes on his book, his voice unenthused despite its sincerity, but it made you smile. You looked towards the writing desk and saw Mr. Batchbury’s scowl had only deepened, the quill in his hand unmoving and dripping ink on the page.

“Are you not excited too, Mr. Batchbury?” you slid over to the desk, eyes drifting down to the inked parchment as subtlety as you could manage, but Mr. Batchbury swiftly closed the notebook with a soft thud, preventing you from reading anything.

“It’s rude to impose your eyes on personal writings,” Mr. Batchbury’s raspy voice hissed at you. It was like a coiled snake, and it lit up your insides in the most improper way, wrapping itself around your bones and staying there long after you left his presence. His eyes met yours in a blazing stained gaze. He was so alluring, his face all angles and silver hair kept close to his head. There was a ghastly-looking scar on the side of his head he sustained during the war. His brother Wrecker had one too. But it did not detract from his good looks, at least not to you.

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and instead slid him a look that showed your distaste. “My apologies. I had no idea of your writings being the personal kind. But you still haven’t answered my question Mr. Batchbury, and one might say that is rather rude too.”

Your back and forth with Mr. Batchbury no doubt tired everyone to no end, but no matter how hard you tried, you simply were incapable of ignoring his remarks. Something in you needed to put him in his place, but it only seemed to spur him on more, driving the wedge harder between you both. It no longer mattered how many times Meg had to step between you two, it did not do anything to change your behaviour towards each other. You could not stand Mr. Crosshair Batchbury, and he could not stand you.

He scoffed in response. “I won’t be attending dancing lessons. Nor will I be attending the ball.”

“But you must!” Meg pleaded to her brother, but his coffee-coloured eyes only remained on you.

“What a shame,” you said, no disappointment in your voice at all. “But perhaps it’s best. No one will want to dance with someone so impudent and rude as you are anyway.”

Mr. Batchbury’s lip curled in a snarl before he pushed his chair back roughly, wooden legs screeching on the floorboards, snatched his notebook and stalked out of the drawing room.

“Must you provoke him?” Meg sighed. You watched the room’s remaining brothers share a glance at each other that you could never decipher.

You dropped your shoulders, suddenly feeling bad that you’d upset Meg. She was so lovely, like a little sister. You looked at her sullen face, her blonde hair swept into a braid and tied with a red ribbon – the Batchbury’s had seemed to adopt it as their family colour. She was so full of light.

“I’m sorry, Meg,” you said sincerely before holding out your hand. “Shall we learn the quadrille?”

That afternoon was spent teaching Meg and Wrecker how to dance a slew of dances that would be performed at the Across the Stars Ball including the quadrille, the cotillion, the scotch reel, the Naboo country dance and the waltz. Tech played the piano, unable to dance due to his injuries, and you paired with Hunter, who made the perfect partner for your instruction since he knew the dances already. Wrecker and Meg laughed as they stepped on each other’s feet and spun around. Their laughter was infectious, and you and Hunter and Tech laughed along too until you were all laughing so hard that you were unable to dance, and Tech was unable to play.

You caught your breath, hand on your chest as it heaved inside the confines of your corset, smiling at Meg as she pantomimed how ridiculous Wrecker had looked only minutes ago when you thought you saw a flash of grey hair up in the balconied eaves of the townhouse’s small ballroom. You frowned. Surely you were imagining such things.

It seemed as if the entire population of London was in attendance at the Across the Stars Ball, their ballroom was full of gentlemen and women, debutantes as well as members of the aristocracy and even parliament. Everyone was dressed in their finest gowns and suits coloured in rich navies and purples, gold and silver embellishments, fitting into the celestial theme perfectly. You swore you saw the elusive Duchess Satine Kyrze who rarely ventured from her country estate in Mandalorshire and even laid eyes upon Prince Reginald from the far-off Kingdom of Kamino, or Rex as he preferred to be called – the ton’s gossip mill had come to the conclusion that he was a close friend of Prince Skywalker.

You watched along with Tech as the Batchbury siblings – minus the youngest brother – took to the floor. Hunter and Wrecker took turns dancing with Meg, much to her delight and the scrutiny of the ton, but the Batchbury’s cared little for impropriety and more for their sister’s happiness. After lessons this week, they had taken to the dances fairly quickly and you smiled as they performed the steps as if they’d been doing them all their lives.

Hunter switched out with Wrecker, needing to catch his breath. You smiled at him.

“Are you missing the wild seas yet, Hunter?” you joked.

Hunter returned your smile. “Not even the decks of the Marauder could’ve prepared me for this.”

You laughed before Hunter excused himself for a drink. You sipped your champagne, listening to the whispers from those around you as they discussed the Batchbury’s debut at the most anticipated ball of the season.

“They’re a little…odd.” The voice dripped with pretentiousness from behind you, her tone all nasally.

You watched Wrecker lift Meg up and spin her around in an improvised turn that was not part of the choreography, both laughing loudly with glee. They were having the time of their lives.

“Odd is putting it kindly.” This voice blubbered with pompousness. You gripped your champagne glass tightly.

“This is why I believe we need to stop just anyone from acquiring fortunes, because this happens. Common people have no place here.”

You just about broke your glass, and your shoulders raised as you were seconds away from turning around and dressing the pair of snobs down, but Tech put a hand on your arm to stop you.

“Pay it no mind,” he said evenly, his hands returning to the top of his cane in front of him.

“But they’re being so cruel,” you protested, shoulders sagging.

He shook his head before pushing his glasses up his nose. “It is nothing we are not used to. It no longer affects us. We know who we are, and that’s all we’ve ever cared about.”

You softened your smile at him. You knew how the Batchbury’s had grown up in destitution and had endured many hardships to get to where they were now. You had grown fond of them all since joining them as Meg’s companion, and it just wasn’t right that people thought they were undeserving of their fortune. Out of anyone, they deserved to be happy and live without worry. You wished all of the ton believed that too.

You placed your now empty glass on a passing tray before turning to Tech. “I’m taking some air.”

“Leaving so soon?”

You whipped your head to see Mr. Batchbury in all his handsome glory. Similarly to his brothers, he was dressed in a dark grey tailored suit embroidered with silver thread, unintentionally matching his hair. His front pocket held a red pocket square, like all his brothers as a representation of their family. He towered over you, his trousers accentuating his long legs as they tucked into his shiny black knee-high boots. You flushed as he looked at you, the corner of his mouth upturned in his infuriatingly attractive smirk.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you stammered out. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

“As am I,” Tech blinked behind his spectacles. “You have expressed your distaste for these events, Crosshair.”

Crosshair scowled out at the dance floor, his eyes finding Meg and Wrecker. Hunter was held up somewhere, no doubt the bar was filled with people of the ton wanting to make his acquaintance, much to his discomfort.

“Yes, well, I don’t like being left behind,” Crosshair spoke bitterly, grabbing a glass of champagne from a tray. He sipped it, grimacing at the taste. You knew he hated champagne. “Is there nothing stronger?” he complained.

“There’s a bowl of punch on the other side of the room that has been spiked with a liquor that tastes like an oil lamp, if that is more to your taste,” you said dryly.

“Funny,” Mr. Batchbury drawled before downing the rest of the champagne. The string quartet finished the music, and everyone gave a gentle applause. People moved on and off the dancefloor in a sea of bodies as they prepared for the next dance of the evening.

“Care to dance?” Mr. Batchbury held out his left hand towards you. You looked up at him in shock, mouth agape.

“I’m sorry?” Had you heard him right?

Mr. Batchbury rolled his eyes and emphasised his outstretched palm. “A dance. Would you like one?”

You looked at him incredulously. He wanted to dance with you? The man who did not hide how much he disliked you and your presence in his household with his family. The man who did not acknowledge you at all and when he did, did so with such disdain that it was tangible. And yet he held out his gloved un-wooden hand towards you.

You looked at Tech who watched the interaction with interest, a look on his face you couldn’t decipher. You crossed your arms at Mr. Batchbury. “Is this a trick?”

“Would you give me an answer,” he hissed, growing impatient and agitated.

You studied him for a moment, trying to find any mischief or dishonesty in his gaze, but found none of it. Was he truly asking you in earnest? You couldn’t fathom it. It crossed your mind to reject him, to say no and humiliate him in front of everyone but something tugged in your chest. He’d come here of all places, even though he vehemently expressed his dislike for balls and intention not to attend. Even though he never seemed to feel comfortable in this new life he had and to dance with you in front of everyone was making a spectacle of himself.

And Mr. Batchbury, you had learned, did not do anything he did not want to do, and it seemed as though he did indeed wish to dance with you, but you could not place why. No one had asked you to dance in such a long time, and you doubt Mr. Batchbury made a habit of asking anyone to do anything at all, much less dance with him. It simply seemed…cruel to reject his offer – and you could not deny the part of you that actually wanted to dance with him; to be close to him in a way that wasn’t through argument.

Your inconvenient crush on the youngest Batchbury brother should not be encouraged…but it would be nice to dance.

Cautiously, you placed your gloved hand into his, his fingers wrapped around yours securely, but not tightly. His palm felt firm and strangely comforting against yours as he led you onto the dance floor and you watched the side of his face in fascination. He looked at you when you reached your position on the floor and dropped your hand. You looked up at him, his hands behind his back, and he stared down wordlessly at you, his eyes studying you intensely. You averted your gaze, landing on Wrecker and Meg in the next row, who were watching you both with curious expressions.

Your eyes slid back to him when the music began, and you met his bow with a curtsey. His eyes never left yours as he took your hands gently in his and performed the first step, moving towards each other and passing by the shoulders. He was poised and effortless in his movement, which surprised you.

“I thought you did not know how to dance,” you whispered, not sure why your voice decided to lower so.

Mr. Batchbury didn’t answer, the corner of his mouth twitching like it was about to smile. You frowned as you came together again.

“You didn’t attend my lessons with your family,” you whispered again a little louder.

You almost tripped over your own feet when you saw Mr. Batchbury’s mouth lift into a small, amused smile. Your frown deepened which only seemed to make him more delighted. What could he possibly be smiling about? You held his hands as you spun in a slow circle, his thumbs gently resting on your knuckles, brushing yours. You watched him, the way his whole face seemed to change just at the lift in his expression. The way the crease in his brow went away, the smile lines on his face deepening and his eyes filled with mirth. It was breathtaking.

Your mind then went back to the flash of grey hair you saw up in the balconied eaves of the Batchbury’s ballroom and it all became clear.

“You watched, didn’t you?” you asked, though you knew you were right. “From the eaves.”

Mr. Batchbury was silent for a moment, his smile falling back into that pensive line, as if he was annoyed you’d seen him and caught on to his little game.

“And if I did?” he countered, passing by your shoulder again. He hardly ever answered a question directly and it drove you to such frustration. You rolled your eyes.

“Why would you not come down and learn properly? Are you embarrassed, or do you simply hate me that much?” you held hands again, moving down the line on the dancefloor.

Mr. Batchbury scoffed, a light puff of air from his nose. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me, sir,” you snapped back, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

The dance continued, and you moved towards him and turned so your back was to his front, and one of his hands found your waist and the other held your hand. You lay your hands on his as you both moved in a circle with some other couples. Your chest tightened as you felt his hands on your body as he pulled you close to him. You felt his hand rest in the dip of your waist, and you were so aware of the way his fingers flexed against your palm. His touch ignited your body in ways you never believed was possible and you tried to control the heat that rushed to your cheeks and up the back of your neck. How could he illicit this response from you when you were constantly at odds? It was nonsensical.

You were hoping he couldn’t tell your fluster when you felt him bend down to your ear, breath tickling you there.

“I do not hate you.” His voice was like gravel, and you felt the vibrations of his low voice move down into your bones. It flared through you, goosebumps prickling across your skin, and you fought off a shiver that threatened to travel down your spine. You spun away from him, returning to face him once more.

Mr. Batchbury looked at you with that same pensive, almost emotionless expression, and you felt the irritation in you rising as you passed by his shoulder again, circling him.

“You always ignore me when I am in the room, and if by some miracle you do acknowledge my existence, you reject any civil conversation with me with caustic barbs and scowls. You all but yelled at me when I innocently inquired about what you write in your notebook. So, please explain to me why I should believe you don’t hate me when it’s clear that you do.”

Mr. Batchbury’s expression remained impassive despite your blunt claims, fanning the flames of your ire until they were ablaze with fury. You wished he was not so handsome, that his touch and proximity did not affect you so – it made this all the more difficult and confusing. You returned to your place and watched as he passed by your shoulder, circling you. You waited for his response, waiting to see how he came to his own defence, but it did not come.

He had nothing to say, and that hurt even more. For it meant he truly did hate you.

You laughed humorlessly, shaking your head, feeling tears begin to prick your eyes and you tried to hide your hurt as the music came to a close, thankful your dance was over.

You curtseyed as he bowed, chastising yourself for getting upset at how he treated you. He did not deserve to mould your feelings in this way. You shook your head again, face aflame and tears threatening to spill down your cheeks in front of everyone – in front of the person you loathed the most yet whose eyes haunted your dreams. You quickly walked off the dance floor without another word. You ignored the calls of your name from Meg and instead made your way towards the doors that led to the gardens.

When you made it outside, the cool air prickled your skin, and you took a deep breath, closing your eyes. There were small droves of people outside among lanterns, their chatter an even din to your ears. But you needed to be further away. Stray tears falling, you went down the steps and into the gardens, away from the ball and the people.

The Queen and Prince’s staff had not placed the lanterns everywhere, and soon you left them behind as you walked through the well-kept gardens towards the glass building which could not be anything but the greenhouse, your feet crunching softly on the gravel pathways. You wrapped your arms around yourself and looked up at the sky as you walked, at the constellations that littered the blue night with glowing dots. You smiled tearfully at the reminder that you were only a small part of something much bigger, and nothing could truly matter so much when the stars existed. Even if it felt like the opposite.

When you reached the door, you pushed it open and closed it quietly behind you. The temperature was much warmer than it was outside, and you could feel the heat seep into your skin. You walked further in, marvelling at the various plants that grew and seemed to flourish in this environment, some of them you’d never seen before in your life. There were fruit trees and shrubs, flower bushes and others. The greenhouse was lit inside, giving the plant life an orange glow in the night. You walked around stone fountains and admired the stone statues, letting the ball and its people slip away.

You didn’t know why you were so hurt by Mr. Batchbury’s actions and lack of words. Something about him flared up a part of yourself you didn’t like. You hated meeting his barbs with cutting remarks, it was exhausting. You hated ruining your time spent with the Batchbury’s, so aware of their youngest brother and primed for any words that may be sent your way. You spent almost every waking thought fixated on Crosshair Batchbury and no matter what you did, nothing could sway your mind elsewhere. Always thinking about his stupid words that fell from his pretty lips and his even more stupidly handsome face with those searing brown eyes that spread fire through you when you looked into them.

You kicked the edge of the fountain with a frustrated sound coming from your throat and then sat on the edge and put your head in your hands. You felt more tears fall down your cheeks and you sniffled, wishing you had a handkerchief.

You could not deny it to yourself any longer.

You were completely enamoured by Mr. Crosshair Batchbury, and the hurt you felt was because you wanted him to like you. You kept fighting with him because it was the only way he would look at you with those pretty eyes of his. Ever since that first introduction, you wished his attention to be filled with the love, care and kindness you knew he possessed. But his handsome angled face would only ever send you daggers. So, with nothing else to do, with no explanations to why he did not like you, you just kept arguing with him, over and over again. But nothing ever changed. Whatever you did, whatever you said would never win him over, and you were exhausted.

You deserved better than that.

You heard footsteps running inside and you quickly straightened, eyes wide. You wiped your face and hoped your eyes weren’t so red. The footsteps stopped and you turned to your right and scoffed when you saw the source of all your hurt, confusion and desire standing there in all his glory.

“What do you want, Mr. Batchbury?” you asked, but did not want an answer. He looked at you, beautiful brown eyes trained on your face, and you watched them search your features for something. You laughed humorlessly and kept talking.

“Wanted to see if I finally cracked? If your words, or lack thereof I should say, finally landed their blow? Well, they did, sir. They did. You win. I’m not playing this game with you any longer, I am tired of it.”

“What game?” he croaked out, standing there all tall and handsome with a crease in his brow you wanted to press away with your thumb. Oh, how you wished he’d just been nice to you. It would’ve been so much easier.

You stood up and smoothed your gown. “Our arguments. I don’t want to have them anymore.”

He looked at you, incredulous. “The ones you started?”

“I did not start anything!” You hissed at him, balling your fists. “You did!”

Mr. Batchbury took a step closer to you, his voice deepening with disdain. “Please enlighten me, because I distinctly remember you disliking me from the moment we met, and nothing could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes before narrowing them at him. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. Batchbury, seeing as though you were the one who decided I was not up to your standards upon our introduction.”

Mr. Batchbury reeled back. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you spat, taking a step towards him. “You looked me up and down and decided that was it, you’d seen enough of me. And now I simply plague you by existing. Shall I reiterate my words from the ballroom?”

“I know perfectly well what you said.”

He was so close to you now and you had to crane your neck to meet his eyes. When you were this close, you could see the uneven outline of his port wine stain across his eye, the deep red a contrast to his brown skin. You watched the way the colour flared with his emotions, and you wanted to place your fingertips over it, feel if it was as hot as his anger. He scowled down at you, his shoulders broad despite his lean frame. He was intimidating to most, and he knew it – but he never scared you. This attention that he gave you in these moments only solidified your wish for him to look at you in other ways. For those burning eyes of his to look upon you with love and not disdain. You drew yourself up as tall as you could, meeting him in every way except the way you wanted to, hoping your voice didn’t tremble.

“So, you do not deny it? That you took one look at me and decided I was not worthy of your company.”

Mr. Batchbury’s face softened ever so slightly. If you had blinked, you would’ve missed it. “That’s not what happened.”

You smiled only to hide the immense hurt that only seemed to cut deeper with every moment he continued to look at you like that. “Oh, please, spare me.”

Mr. Batchbury’s eyes searched your face. What did you look like to him right now? You must look unkempt with the mess of your emotions. You were not good at hiding any of them, all the anger and hurt seemed to show up in the creases of your face and across your skin. Did he feel bad about the mess he had made you? Did he feel anything which was not frustration and vexation towards you? You could not imagine it. His face had softened marginally since the beginning of this spar, but the only thing it could be is pity; pity that you believed such things, pity that you couldn’t take the arguments anymore.

Pity that you felt for him in ways he could never fulfil.

You felt your eyes brim with tears, and you took a step back, putting distance between you. Being so close to him was not helping in any such way. This had to stop.

“You know, sir, just because you are rich, tall, and a handsome war hero does not mean you can treat people like they no longer matter. You and your family are wonderful people. The love you have for each other is truly remarkable and if I ever had a family, I would hope they are as close as yours is. I love your brothers and sister dearly, but it does not take away from the fact you have continued to provoke and anger me, and I will no longer allow it.”

Something shifts in Mr. Batchbury; he straightens and his once steady feet falter as he looks at you, like he’d just been knocked off balance. You stare at each other, his eyes wide and yours full of hurt and surrender. He blinks, processing your words, and you realise what you’ve just let slip from your tongue.

Handsome. Handsome. Handsome.

Wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful.

The words linger in the air between you both, and you feel yourself stiffening as your mouth opens slightly, before closing again. You could not take the words back. Your secret was out; he knew what you really thought of him.

Despite all the insults and affronts towards him, you did think he was wonderful and handsome, and the love he showed his family made a different kind of warmth seep through you. Not the warmth of anger, but the warmth of admiration and love.

Mr. Batchbury seemed to recover from the weight of your words, shifting on his feet, but his eyes never left you. You watched his face soften, harden then soften again, the creases around his eyes and mouth betraying his usual stoic face. You watched as he took a tentative step closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“You won’t, will you?”

You felt the breath of his words tickle your face and you looked up at him, heart beating so fast you were sure he could hear it in this quiet, empty corner of the greenhouse. You swallowed. What was he doing? His words sounded like a challenge, but his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it; softer than it had ever been towards you.

But you’d been burned by him before, and you stood your ground, on guard for the insult that would surely follow. Your voice was low with your response, mustering up as much challenge as you would with his eyes looking down on you.

“No, I won’t.”

You were unprepared for his next words, delivered in that same softness as before but not coated in an uncertainty that puzzled you and caught you off guard. “What will you allow then?”

You blinked up at him, eyes moving between his. Were they even softer than before? Your eyes trailed down his face and watched the way his lips pressed together. You quickly met his gaze once more, your reply coming out strained. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Mr. Batchbury voice was unnervingly gentle as he said, “Will you allow this?”

He silently lifted his gloved hand and put the end of it between his teeth. You watched the movement, eyes trained on his mouth as he pulled it off and let it drop from his mouth to the floor. Then he took your hand in his bare one softly, and his wooden one cradled your elbow. Your breath hitched at the touch. His eyes left yours only for a moment as he pinched the seam of the tip of your silk glove, just above your middle finger. Then his gaze returned as he tugged, slowly pulling your glove from your arm until it was bare. Your chest began to rise and fall rapidly as you moved your eyes between his and his movements in quick darts.

“What are you doing?” Your voice rushed and breathless.

His voice was calm, if not slightly bored as he dropped the glove to the ground. “Seeing what you will allow.”

Mr. Batchbury began to do the same with your other glove, repeating the movements carefully. You blinked up at him, your heart racing and your stomach flipping over itself once you felt his hand move across the bare skin of your arms and hands. His palm was not rough, but it was not quite smooth, either. It was dry, warm, and large and completely engulfed your own hand, and you imagined his other hand would’ve felt the same if it had not been lost. His hand was a working one; a hand that had held rifles and pulled on ropes; a hand you knew held his sister’s when she was little; a hand that learnt how to write when he lost his other; a hand that carried around his leather-bound book tightly; a hand that had held you close to him when you had danced; a hand that removed your gloves so artfully you felt the sensations move through your entire body.

A hand that was, in fact, gentle with you in ways his words had never been.

You stared at him, and he looked at you as he held your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that seemed almost instinctual. He’d done that during the dance too, you realised. You thought it had been done absently, but what if…it was intentional? You searched his face and saw a vulnerability you had never once seen grace his features. It made him look boyish, and something in your chest bloomed before you realised what you were doing.

You were holding hands with Mr. Batchbury in a greenhouse, and his skin was warm against yours.

You shook your head, face aflame. “This isn’t proper,” you choked out.

His voice was soft once more. “Do you want to stop?”

You looked at him. You had lamented only moments ago of how you wished he would show you the kindness he showed his family, and now here he was, holding your hand. How did he move from throwing barbs towards you, to such gentle gestures? How had the hostility between you shifted so quickly into softness? Your surrender to this game between you, your secret feelings towards him that had finally revealed itself after hiding them behind venom-soaked words. Something in that had changed the way he looked at you, how he spoke and how he held you.

What did it all mean?

But as he looked at you, finally looking at you with something other than hate, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.

“No,” you whispered.

His eyes softened once more, and it was an expression you’d grown very fond of in the past minutes, and you found yourself getting lost in the tourmaline of his eyes. They were the colour of a fireplace, of cinnamon sticks in hot cider – and maybe that was Mr. Batchbury to his core. Sweetness on the edges of the tart acidic warmth that permeated you as you consumed it.

You wanted to reach up and touch his face, see if the stubble that lined his jaw was rough against your fingers, you wanted to trace the line of his port wine stain, and see if his eyes closed with the touch, or if they stayed trained on you.

You felt your cheeks heating as he continued to look at you. What did he see now when he looked at you? Still the mess of anger and hurt? Or the unhidden feelings of enamour you had hidden for so long?

You felt his hand on yours squeeze before he swallowed, and slowly moved his face closer to yours. It was a cautious kind of movement that left room for you to push him away, but you couldn’t – or wouldn’t. And instead, the thump of your heart filled your ears as his lips inched closer to yours, both your gazes dropping to each other’s lips. He paused and you felt the breath of your name over the lips.

“Yes,” you breathed back.

“I have never once hated you,” Mr. Batchbury whispered before he pressed his lips to yours.

You had never kissed anyone in your life, and all your knowledge came from novels or chatters overheard from servants. But this kiss wasn’t like anything you have ever heard or read. It started off sweet, tentative a little unsure as you both tried to figure out what to do and what felt good. He pulled you closer, so you were pressed up against his chest, and his arms went to your hips whilst yours draped themselves over his shoulders. He lifted you so your feet were on top of his, and you pressed your tip toes into the tops of his boots as the kiss deepened, both of you finding your footing as you grew used to the ministrations. He smelled like the fireplace his eyes matched, and you breathed him in as Mr. Batchbury’s lips claimed yours. Your body was on fire as felt his tongue at the seam of your lips and you couldn’t hold back a moan as you tasted him. He tasted of the champagne he’d downed earlier, and you could feel the hardness of his frame against you, like nothing was close enough.

“Enchanting,” you thought you’d heard him say between kisses.

The kisses you’d heard about had never detailed the kind of passion and want this kiss held. The greenhouse’s heat coupled with the heat of this embrace was making you hot all over, your body tingled with the need for more. And as the kiss went on, you both became more frantic, gasping between each kiss. His hands moved up and down your back, holding you securely against him and your bare hands grasped at the short strands of his silver hair that lay at the nape of his neck. He groaned as you tugged at them and kissed you harder, his hot mouth slanting over yours as he pulled you in deeper, bodies pressed together like nothing was close enough.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed as his lips left yours to move down your jawline to your neck. You pressed your hand against his cheek and felt the stubble, confirming the roughness of it you had imagined. God, you wanted him everywhere – improper be damned. How could something that felt so good be so improper? Why were people denying themselves this for the sake of propriety? You feared you could never get enough of this, of him.

“Crosshair,” he insisted, just like his lips as they pressed into your skin, nipping at your exposed collarbones.

“Crosshair,” you repeated before he swallowed your breath with his lips once more.

He let out a groan that you felt vibrate into your lips and chest and something about that sound, the deepness and loudness of it in the bubble you both had made, brought you back to yourself, and you remembered where you were and realised what you were doing.

You pulled away, chest rising and falling, eyes wide and cheeks burning. Your face was so close to his, and you took him in. His eyes were blown, brown irises bright, and his mouth parted with swollen lips. His port wine birthmark was a deep red as his skin flushed. You felt his chest press into yours as he breathed hard, and he blinked at you.

In his face, you saw a man who’s kissed you senseless, who held you to him, who’d touched your bare hands, and had been so gentle, all you had ever wanted him to be with you and yet, you felt yourself freeze.

Was this real? Or another cruel game at the expense of your feelings? One where he told you he never hated you, kissed you until your knees buckled then spat cruelties later on? Was he lulling you into complacency so his acid tongue would burn you when you weren’t expecting it?

The thought hit you like a twelve-horse carriage and the guard you’d foolishly let down flew back up. You’d lost your mind; taken by your fantasies. Mr. Batchbury was never gentle with you, no matter how much you wished it – why would he start now?

You couldn’t be sure. But you were not going to be hurt by Mr. Batchbury again – your heart couldn’t take it.

He rasped out your name, your kisses still lying in his throat and you felt yourself jolt before wrenching yourself out of his embrace.

“I have to go,” you strained out, already feeling your eyes burn with tears.

You watched his expression change into one of shock and then indignation. “What?”

“This shouldn’t have happened,” you choked before turning away from him and running back through the greenhouse the way you came, leaving Mr. Batchbury behind.

i hope you enjoyed this FIRST installment!! bc ofc! what is a regency romance without a steamy encounter!! ANYWAY stay tuned!!

(i am travelling for a bit so part 2 will be posted sometime in december! thank you for your patience!)

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727 @rebel-ezra @lulalovez

if you weren’t tagged it’s bc it wouldn’t let me/your blog didn’t exist

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader fic #regency au #crosshair bad batch fic #the bad batch crosshair fic #regency au fic #the bad batch fic #bad batch fluff #tbb crosshair #crosshair bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch fic au

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thesirencult · 2 months ago

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Messages For The Divine Feminine 222

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

Dear Divine Feminines,

I've never felt called before to share this kind of message as I was always skeptical abaout collective messages and saw them as nonsense. This evening though, while doing a personal tarot reading I felt the energy of two important Divine Feminine archetypes: Aphrodite and Cleopatra.

As I was wrapping up my reading I felt called to share some messages with fellow Divine Feminines on their journey to ascension and spiritual fulfillment.

Think about tomorrow as the first day of a new life. If you want to welcome the new you have to let go of old stories and negative beliefs who are holding you back from reaching your true potential. New perspectives are opening up and the truth is available for you to uncover.

You've strayed away from your path and got carried away by attaching yourself to your current situation. You forgot that your goal should be manifesting your heart's desires and not getting stuck on emotional rollercoasters. You hold the reigns. Detaching from the situation doesn't mean letting go of a beautiful vision of the finale, it means not paying attention to the immediate responses of your environment. Also have this in mind when it comes to your relationship with your destined Divine Masculine.

You are choosing yourself now. You are choosing your own vision of a better future. You're crafting the grand finale! Remember, you are currently living in the energy you seeded yesterday, so if you want a better tomorrow start with "good seeds" now. Congratulations, you have cut the cord and cracked the code of what manifestation and alignment means. Don't destroy tomorrows dreams by analyzing them from the viewpoint of yestarday's broken thoughts. You are more powerful than that.

Hoarding won't bring you results. On the contrary, sharing yourself and your gifts with others and being generous with your time and energy will yield better results. This will help your energy flourish. Growing means being generous with the fruits of wisdom. Stop trying to "save yourself" from the future because it scares you, the future is much better than you think and you're just self-sabotazing. You are safe. This tower moment was needed because it is better to build on solid foundation. Goddess wants you to know that your Divine Masculine is also undergoing the same process. No, when I'm saying Divine Masculine I'm not talking about the dusty next door, but about your true pure soul connection, the one that demands growth and love from you, not hate, frustration and games. These are low vibrational connections. Games won't work when it comes to soulful connections. Drop the mask and share yourself bare... Step into the mindset of abundance. You're enough, you are safe and you have enough love to be vulnerable with it.

When it comes to your love life, you're currently learning to believe in love. You are in the energy of manifestation, mid-manifesting. You next connection will be a soul connection. You're NEW to this, cut yourself some slack. Focus on how you can grow and prepare for them. Your person will love the fact you're both learning how to love eachother properly, they won't make fun of your eager nature or you trying to do better, they ar eon the same boat.

Think about what YOU want, feel it and give it a shape. Create the mold and the Goddess will fill it in. Do not try to fit the clay in the mold. Even if you are in a relationship with your true soul connection know that he is and he becomes the product of your manifestation. Create the mold. Create the mold and they will follow. The situation holds lots of potential to grow into something beautiful-if you let it unfold. Roses bloom when the time is right, the moon holds different shapes each night, time runs in circles and cycles, cosmic timing...

Trust. Time, faith and belief are the solutions to your problems. How can the seed of love grow inside you? How are you going to water it? Are you even watering it my gorgeous Divine Feminine? Work your way up and let yourself grow into the ideal state of love. Let your vision of love adapt and change.

In a pure soul connection each one builds on the work of the other. A sacred entaglement of two equals with a common goal. Both alternate between leading and being lead. Swaying in the dance of mutually beneficial promises. If you want your love life to heal, seek to be helpful, seak to lead spiritually. Together you will bring to life something much greater than what you would create alone.

My Divine Feminine, let go of your doubts, accept yourself as a whole, mind-body and soul and water your potential.

#level up journey #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot #pick a picture #pick a photo #astrology #tarot reading #soulmate #divine feminine #divine guidance #collective message #feminine energy #the sacred feminine #siren #cleopatra #aphrodite

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heavensenteden · 3 months ago

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✎ submit.exe | nsfw fic 🔞

☆彡

hello to the 10 SeekL fans out there, i bestow a gift upon you… odxny esex fanfic!

someone shoot me please dear god.

anyways, i have some new works upcoming i promise! i’m working on another crowe, sol, and a 14dwy piece ;P so stick around for those <3

much love to those who read! you guys have been so sweet on my other works!!

okok, now you guys can read, mwah

also make sure you guys listen to swim by chase atlantic while reading this or sum sexy, idk. set the mood for yourself

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62761168

word count: 3856

pls minors dni and dnr ⭐️

cw: e-sex (lol), fingering, stalking-ish, degrading, mututal masturbation

💻˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

It has only been a couple of days since you, or well, Thrim, landed yourself in a server full of skilled hackers, all looking to complete their… passion projects.

If you can even call them that.

In all honesty, it has been fun, learning new coding skills, getting made fun of, and, most of all, being able to talk to him. Odxny. The mystery man who wears a mask every time you call and talks about disappearing once it’s all over.

Today is no different. The server buzzes with activity as you scroll through endless lines of code, occasionally stopping to reply to a message from one of the other members.

You have already been working for hours prior to this, on your own little project, and of course, your mind is beginning to wander. Thankfully, your saving grace, Odxny, sends you a text.

odxny: busy right now?

thrim: for you? never <3

odxny: haha, could I call you then?

thrim: ofc ofc!

You shift at your desk, setting up your camera and smoothing your hair down so it doesn’t appear so messy. Then, the ring of a call comes through your headset, and as you put your earbuds in, you simultaneously click ‘accept.’

His face appears on the screen of your monitor. He is seated back in his chair, calm and unreadable as always, that mask of his only adding to the mystery as he grins at you. The soft glow of his server rack flickers in the background, the glow of his monitor bathing his covered face in a soft blue hue.

Despite calling him every single night since the day you joined the server, he looks just as pretty as the first time you saw him.

“Hey,” he says, his voice smooth and cool, as if he’s just casually checking in.

“Hey,” you reply, a bit too eagerly. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” he answers, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long. “Thought I’d see how you’re doing. Are you still helping Pep with codes, or are you taking a break?”

You lean back in your chair, trying to shake off the slight bit of heat just his stare alone causes. “Just the usual, I was helping him earlier, now I’m working on my own stuff. It’s been a long day though.”

“Mmm, I can tell.” His tone is almost too knowing. “You’ve been quiet within the server lately. Anything on your mind?” He leans forward slightly, his eyes focused on the screen in that way that makes you feel like he’s watching your every minor move.

You laugh nervously, not sure what to make of his sudden interest. “Just, uh, the usual. Lots of work, you know?”

He tilts his head, as if considering your words for a moment. “Mm, yeah. Sounds pretty boring. I figured you’d have something more exciting going on than that.” There’s a playful edge to his voice now, and you can’t help but feel your pulse quicken.

You try to keep it casual, teasing him back. “What, you want me to do something exciting for you?”

There’s a pause, and you watch as he takes a breath, as if he is considering his next words carefully. “Well, it depends. What are you into? I’m sure we could find something… fun to talk about.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden shift in his tone, and you feel your cheeks heat up.

You swallow, trying to ignore the way his words seem to linger in the air. “Uh, what kind of… fun are we talking about?” you ask, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

He grins behind that mask, leaning back in his chair. “Well, you know… I’m just curious what kind of ‘exciting’ things you’re into. I’ve known you for a couple of days and barely know anything… personal about you. Everyone’s got their little… preferences, right?” His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his tone smooth and casual.

You shift in your seat, suddenly aware of how close he seems to feel, even through the screen. “Preferences?” you parrot back, forcing a casual laugh, though your voice betrays you with a slight tremor.

“Mhm,” Odxny hums, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on his desk, the rhythm slow and steady. “Do you enjoy being in control of people, or… would you rather someone take the lead?” He says it so casually, as if it’s just a simple question, but the weight of his words makes your stomach flip.

Your breath catches in your throat, unsure if you should answer his rather direct question or just change the subject. But you can’t help it, there’s something about him that pulls you deeper into the conversation. “I… I don’t know. I guess I like both,” you admit, your voice betraying you once again as it hitches slightly.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Both, huh? Interesting… but which one do you think you’d really enjoy more?” There’s some curiosity in his tone, and an almost playful lilt that sends shivers down your spine.

You can feel your cheeks burning now, and you know your voice will give you away if you try to brush it off. “I don’t… I don’t know what you mean,” you stammer, though you really do know the answer, you just don’t want to admit it to him.

His smile widens, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Sure you don’t. It’s okay to admit things, you know. I won’t bite… unless you ask me to.” He leans in a little closer, and suddenly, his presence, despite being on a video call, feels overwhelming.

“So, tell me… when it comes down to it, do you like it rough? Or are you more of a… slow and passionate kind of person?”

Your body freezes. The question hangs in the air like a dare.

Your heart hammers in your chest, and it feels like your entire body is on fire.

You clear your throat, trying to force yourself to focus and answer the damn question, but it’s hard when Odxny’s calm demeanor makes everything feel like a simple game, and you’re not sure if you want to keep playing… or if you want him to take control.

"I… I’m not sure," you stammer, your voice shaky. “I guess… both, depending on the mood.”

His eyes narrow slightly through his little fox mask as he watches you struggle to find the right words.

"Mm, interesting."

He leans even closer to the screen, his eyes scanning you up and down in an almost predatory way.

"You know, I’ve been wondering… do you ever think about what it would feel like? To let someone really take control? I mean, you let us push you around sometimes, making you help us with hacks, and Incri likes to poke fun at you when they can…"

Odxny pauses, a grin growing on his face.

"I’d even be so confident to say maybe you like it—the way we push you around and make fun at times."

Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch him.

He’s not wrong.

But you’d die before admitting that.

"Y-Yeah, as if…"

His voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I’d be fine if you’re into that. But can you imagine how it would feel? Giving yourself up to someone, trusting them to make you feel… good. But you’d have to trust that someone completely, don’t you think?"

You blink, caught off guard by how serious he’s gotten.

"Trust?" you echo, trying to deflect.

Did you trust Odxny? You’d only known him a few days but he had been somewhat welcoming, and a bit of a delight to talk to at night, so much so that you found yourself actually looking forward to your nightly calls.

He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah. Because without trust, there’s no real connection. No... control.” His words hang in the air.

Your pulse quickens, your heart racing. “I guess I could trust... the right person.”

“The right person, huh?” He pauses, letting his words stretch out. “Tell me, do you think you could trust me?”

Your breath catches, and it’s as if the whole world tilts on its very axis. You want to look away, but you can’t. Something about the way he’s looking at you, so sure, so confident, pulls at you. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply before speaking again.

“What if I told you,” Odxny continues, his voice lower now, “that I could give you what you’re craving... but you’d have to let go of all control. All of it. Let me show you exactly how I could make you feel...”

A wave of heat ripples through your body, your mind becoming a mix of confusion, excitement, and… lust. You open your mouth to speak, but the words get caught in your throat. It’s too much, and yet... somehow it’s exactly what you need.

After days of flirting back and forth in the admin chat it was only a matter of time before something like this would happen right? You just didn’t think it would occur so soon.

“I... I don’t know if I can...” Your voice is barely a whisper, but the admission is enough to make Odxny smile.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “Just listen to me... do as I say and I’ll make you feel good.” He’s almost whispering now.

You feel your breath quicken, the weight of his gaze making you feel exposed in ways you never expected. The line between teasing and something much, much more is blurring fast for you, so fast it’s making your head spin.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low, as though he’s savoring the effect his words are having on you. “Be a good girl for me and unzip that hoodie, yeah?”

Your body freezes for a split second, something in your mind wants to pull away, to regain some sense of control from this moment, but a rush of excitement zips through your entire body instead. The sheer idea of being completely at his mercy, even through a video call, sends a shiver through your spine.

Your hand trembles as you unzip the sweater you had on, the oversized piece of clothing falling off your shoulders to expose smooth, unblemished skin. Underneath you had only been wearing a simple black tank top and black shorts, but despite it being casual wear, you hear Odxny draw in a sharp breath.

Odxny’s grin widens, satisfaction evident in his eyes as he leans back, letting you undress for him. “Good,” he murmurs, “I want you to stop thinking for yourself, stop trying to control everything. Let go, and let me show you just how good it can feel when you just listen to me, okay?”

His words are smooth, calculated almost, you feel like he’s reading every twitch of your body as if you were an open book, you’re teetering on the edge, and you know there’s no turning back now.

His eyes trail down, pausing to linger on what little clothing you had on as you press your thighs together, and for a second, a knowing look crosses his face. “You can feel that, don’t you? You’re getting so hot for me, aren’t you?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but it sent a shiver through you. “I can see it in your eyes. You want this.”

You’re so caught up in the way his words have taken hold of you that you barely realize your hands are moving to push your shorts down, and off your body, the piece of fabric being tossed to some dark corner of the room as you sat in your chair, tank top on and underwear on, being watched by the hacker.

His eyes immediately flick back to your face after lingering for a moment too long on your underwear, his eyes were dark with desire, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. “That’s my girl,” he says, voice thick with approval. “You look fucking gorgeous. Now… show me how you touch yourself.”

The command sends a jolt straight through your core. You hesitate only for a moment, before your fingers instinctively twitch, the heat between your thighs growing unbearable under his intense gaze.

Odxny doesn’t rush you. He doesn’t need to. The way he watches, silent, patient, completely in control, has your breath hitching in anticipation. His voice comes through the headset, low and teasing. “Don’t be shy now. I’ve seen the way you react to my teasing. I know exactly what you want.”

Your fingers graze over the waistband of your underwear, you swallow hard, your body burning under his attention. He hums approvingly, his grin widening behind his mask. “That’s it… nice and slow. Let yourself feel it.”

You try to relax your body, spreading your thighs for him, your nimble fingers rubbing slow, lazy circles against yourself through the damp fabric. Your breaths come out in soft, shaky exhales, the warmth spreading through you becoming almost unbearable—made even worse by the way Odxny watches.

His breathing is slightly heavier now, just a fraction off his usual composed self. The flickering lights from his server rack cast a dim glow against his silhouette, making the blue of his screen reflect off the edges of his fox mask.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into something darker, deeper. “You’re so pretty like this. Completely at my mercy, yeah? Just listening, just following… you’re being such a good girl for me.”

The praise twists hot in your stomach, your fingers pressing harder, your body aching for more. You can’t stop the way your hips stutter, how your thighs tremble just from the sound of his voice.

“Take them off.”

You jerk, pleasure overtaking hesitation, sitting up just enough to push the remaining fabric off your body. The cool air kisses your skin as your underwear is discarded, leaving your lower half completely exposed for him, your fingers dipping back into your soaked pussy, rubbing circles gently, slowly.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then, you hear the faintest shift from his side of the call.

A sharp inhale.

A low, rough exhale, one he tries to control.

Your stomach tightens. Naughty boy.

“Such a quick learner,” he purrs, voice full of satisfaction. His eyes drag over your body, drinking in every inch of bared skin, every little tremor you make under his gaze. “I should’ve had you doing this nights ago.”

The way he says it has you spiraling, every teasing word winding that coil inside you tighter, tighter, until it’s nearly unbearable.

Then, your screen flickers.

It’s a brief static glitch. Quick. Barely noticeable.

But your mind, already hazy, already pliant under his control, almost doesn’t catch it.

Then his voice comes back, smooth, unbothered.

“You really do trust me, don’t you?”

Your breath catches.

Something about the way he says it… it feels wrong.

Another flicker. Just a second. But this time, you see it.

Something in your video feed, something behind him.

In the reflection of a mirror behind him.

It’s your own screen.

For a split second, the distorted pixels snap into clarity.

And staring back at you from behind Odxny’s shoulder is your own reflection, not from this call, but from another angle. An angle that shouldn’t exist.

Your bedroom.

Your desk.

The way you move in real time.

Your camera feed.

It’s not just this call.

He’s been watching you the whole time.

Your blood runs cold even as your body is still warm, still burning from the pleasure he’s drawn out of you. Your stomach tightens, the realization hitting you too late.

He’s seen everything.

Every moment. Every little touch. Every time you change. Every time you sat at your desk and talked to him like this was just harmless flirting.

And now, the look in his eyes, that fucking knowing look, tells you he’s reveling in your realization.

The call screen steadies again, your video going back to normal. Odxny doesn’t react to the glitch. He just exhales slowly, tilting his head like he’s studying you.

And then, the soft sound of fabric shifting. The movement of his arm.

Your breath catches.

Oh.

He’s touching himself too.

It’s subtle at first, like he’s still playing it cool, but now you know better. The rise and fall of his chest, the way his breaths have turned slow, measured, almost too controlled.

His hand is moving.

You can’t see exactly what he’s doing, but you know.

And he knows you know.

His voice is low when he speaks again, raspier, rougher.

“You’re so good for me,” he murmurs. “So fucking sweet. Letting me watch you like this.”

A pause.

And then, a smirk.

“…Letting me watch you for days.”

Your heart stops.

Before you can even process what that means, his voice drops lower, a teasing edge lacing every word.

“Come on, baby. Don’t stop now.”

His hand is still moving. Slow. Steady.

"You’re already mine."

You listen, of course. How could you not? His voice wraps around you like a vice, sinking deep into your bones, leaving no room for anything else. Your fingers slip back between your thighs, gliding effortlessly through the slickness pooling there, the wetness a humiliatingly clear sign of his hold on you.

And he sees it all. Every little reaction. Every twitch of your body.

Your fingers move, slow, shallow thrusts at first, easing yourself open under his gaze. You let out a quiet gasp, your thighs shaking.

Odxny’s chuckle hums through the headset. "Did you think I wouldn’t know?"

You pause for half a second, blinking at your webcam through the haze of pleasure.

"Did you think I wasn’t paying attention?" His voice dips into something lower, rougher. "Every time you touched yourself when I wasn’t around?"

Your breath hitches.

He laughs again, so smug, so infuriatingly pleased with himself, and it makes you squirm even more. "Oh, sweetheart. You think I don’t notice the way your breathing changes when we’re on call? The way your hands go out of frame sometimes? Or how about when you ‘need to go do some important stuff’ and you hang up on me just to go play with yourself.”

Your stomach tightens at his words.

Every single time you thought you were sneaky, every time you let yourself sink into filthy thoughts about him, he was watching.

"I know exactly what you do when you think I’m not paying attention, or when we’re not on call together," he purrs, eyes dark with amusement and something much filthier. "And look at you now, so obedient. You were always meant to be mine, weren’t you?"

His hand is still moving.

You can hear it now, so faint, but unmistakable. The shift of fabric, the slow, measured strokes.

He’s matching your pace. How romantic.

Your fingers pump deeper, curling inside of you, teasing that sensitive spot that has your body jerking just slightly, because you want to perform for him now. You want him to see how much you’ve fallen for him, how deep he’s dug his claws into you.

He exhales sharply through his nose, amused, ravenous. "That’s it, sweet girl. That’s exactly what I like."

The realization sinks deeper.

This was never just about control.

Odxny has been playing this game since the beginning.

Since that very first call. Since the first time you stumbled into his space, into his world.

A knowing smile tugs at his lips, his fingers tightening around himself, his movements just slightly rougher now. He’s close, too.

"Since that first call... I knew you’d be mine."

Your breath catches, fingers pumping faster as you whimper into your headset.

"You’re so perfect for me, baby," he continues, voice dipping into something possessive, intoxicating. "Just the way I like it. So sweet, so eager for me, so easy to break down."

His tempo speeds up, his breathing uneven through the mic.

"You’ll be mine, won’t you?" His voice is demanding now. "You’ll keep coming back for more, won’t you? I know you can’t resist. I can see it in your pretty little eyes how badly you want to be mine."

You don’t hesitate. You nod, desperate, lost in him. You want to be his.

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can even think.

"Yes... I’m yours."

It feels right. It feels inevitable.

Like it’s always been this way.

Like you were made for this.

His chuckle vibrates through the call, smug and victorious.

"Good girl."

His voice is so full of praise, of approval, but to you it’s more than that.

It’s his claim on you

"That’s what I wanted to hear. Now cum for me my sweet girl, show me how good I’m making you feel.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. Your fingers move faster, slick and needy, your breathing turning ragged as the pleasure coils so, so tightly inside you. You can hear everything, his breaths, low and uneven, the faint, sinful rhythm of him stroking his cock as he chases his own release.

"That’s it," he murmurs, watching you fall apart. "Just like that. You’re so fucking perfect for me."

His voice alone sends you tipping over the edge.

Pleasure bursts through you, hot and overwhelming, your body tensing for a few seconds before unraveling completely. A cry rips from your throat as your fingers stutter, your back arching against the chair slightly, your thighs trembling as the release crashes through you in waves.

Odxny groans, a deep, guttural sound that shoots straight through you.

You barely register the way his body tenses, the way his hand jerks rougher, faster, as if the sight of you completely undone has wrecked him too.

"Fuck—"

The sound of him coming apart is obscene. A harsh breath, a low, satisfied growl of your name. You don’t have to see it to feel it, how he must look right now, his body shuddering, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths, his hand covered in his own cum.

For a moment after, there was only silence, save for the shared sound of heavy, ragged breathing.

Your body is still buzzing, pulsing with the aftermath, your skin flushed, your heart pounding. You barely remember where you are. All you can think about is him.

Then a soft amused chuckle pulls you back.

"You’re such a good girl for me, you know that?"

The praise still makes your stomach twist, even now, when your body is already spent. You swallow, trying to even out your breathing, your mind clouded, hazy.

Then, his voice shifts, just slightly, a lower and more gentle tone.

"I meant what I said, baby."

You blink. Your heart skips.

"You’re mine now."

It’s not a question, but a declaration of sorts.

From the moment you joined the server, from the second you answered his first call, from the first time he looked at you like this.

You’ve always been his.

And now, you both knew it.

💻˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

#seekl #seekl odxny #odxny #odxny x reader

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sometimesoliloquy · 9 days ago

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The Handmaid's Tale 6x03 - "Devotion" (or "Hey, You Ok, Nick?")👀

Look, what can I say about this absolute fan fiction (ok, fanfic would have more fucking) wet DREAM of an osblaine episode that hasn't already been said. I don't know but I'll babble on about it for a while anyway. I know many of us have yearned in vain to see rebel(!) Nick and June on the run and I suppose we finally got a morsel of a consolation prize in what is essentially an entire epiosde of Nick x June spy rescue mission. While we're on that, listen up, Luke, because I think you could take a few notes here on the Do's and Don't’s of secret spy missions: 1) long-overdue softly spoken confessions of love and longing whilst waiting for enemy patrols to pass? Go for it!2) spending half the day whooping it up bowling and making a general ruckus on the keyboard like you're just out on a fun date night (while your date mostly sits there looking wildly uncomfortable)... yeah, maybe not.

Anyway, on to the ep!

At the Mayday ops base in No Man's Land, June's daydream of Hannah's baptism is rudely interrupted by Mark Tuello: "we've got to go." She's thinking of her loved ones in trouble: Moira, Luke, and still always most out of reach, Hannah. Mark briefs June on the mission Luke and Moira were on (to pick up info on the militant commander targets), and June in turn scolds Mark for putting her family in danger. He reassures her that Nick will come (for her) and she can't suppress her satisfied giddy smile at the thought of going to meet her boyfriend. She also tries and fails to sound casual about Serena (and Noah) being alive and well in New Bethlehem.

Speaking of which, it's a big! big! day in our favorite new dystopian beach town, as Lawrence reminds Nick, with its very future (and even more importantly, future expansion plans and reforms) depending on convincing the visiting dignitaries that they won't maim and kill their citizens as to the safety of their new community. Seems the rest of the world is just a tiny bit wary after the giant human rights violation that is Gilead (that little old thing).

But shortly a German diplomat (with apparent Mayday ties, somehow) shows up at Nick's door to deliver a not-so-cryptic message about June's whereabouts (seriously, no code? What if Rose were home and has really good hearing? The house isn't that big!) and Nick's day suddenly gets a bit more complicated. A dozen emotions flicker across his face as Nick processes, but a short while later he shows up in the woods--of course he shows up--incognito in his old driver uniform, and, physically pulled into June's gravitational force once again, visibly melts into her in a relieved embrace (and let's not forget this is the first time since he's seen her broken and unconscious in the hospital).

She assures him that Holly/Nichole is safe in Alaska (with her mother, wut!!). She then tells him her reason for being here and Nick is taken aback “Why would they do that? It’s dangerous”(yeh no shit, Nick! that's what we've been saying). He tells her moving the patrols would be too suspicious. "Mark's gotta think of something else" he says, funnily enough echoing his biggest fan, Holly Maddox, last episode ("there's gotta be another way!"), but June goes and bats her baby blues and it's all over (jk, well I mean sort of though). At this point Nick is like ok fine I’ll just go get them brb and she’s like cool and walks past him to the car and he’s like where the fuck do you think you going and I’m like hi, Nick, have you met June? His resigned “in the back, keep your head down” and her good naturedly indignant “I will!” Was really fucking cute. Peak banter this ep.

(when you hear your boyfriend arriving to pick you up for your waterpark date)

Back in New Bethlehem, Serena is meditating in her new beach house when a cheery Lawrence arrives with a housewarming plant. Serena will not be placated by mere gifts and flattery, though, and she wants the good commander down on his knees to prove his own chosen-by-god-liness. Unfortunately he's really much more adept at displaying his pop culture trivia knowledge, but still manages to convince her, finally appealing to their shared sense of duty to clean up the country they broke (and of course to her giant ego by stressing that he really needs her help--like reeeally).

(FFS Serena, I mean... Dear God...)

Nick and June arrive at the abandoned park and immediately continue their adorably natural banter. Interestingly, he seems quite familiar with the pick up spot (it's been closed a long time, always empty). As they make their way to the giftshop (the apparent hiding spot), it's hard to miss just how physically in sync they are as well, matching stride and occasionally ducking out of sight together to evade the watchful eyes of patrols. During one of these moments, June asks why he agreed to spy for the Americans after all, and just when we think Nick is going to brush it off with something noncommittal, he actually tells her(!!). "I came to see you. In the hospital. I had to see you" he says matter-of-factly. (Yes, Nick, spill it!! Mark, you can just go take a full seat ok honey? We don't need you for tea spills anymore, our reclusive boy is just spilling his feelings out of own his damn mouth all over the place and it is glorious).

June looks fairly stunned, and quickly puts 2 and 2 together: Nick agreed to spy--to work for the government, something he has continually expressed distrust and misgivings around--for her. To see her (when she didn’t even know). It's a bit of another "you did all this for me" moment, like hi June, don't you know he would do anything for you by this point? You even said it yourself in s4! But I think it is especially meaningful to her after their meeting in 5x09 where he ostensibly had told her that, athough he still loved her, he was moving on and focusing on his new family. The implications of this new revelation must now be swirling around her head, setting up for the even deeper realizations that will come with their conversation later on.

(oh, the tangled web...)

Somewhere in Gilead, we arrive with a very wary Aunt Lydia at (another very cool looking) parking garage with circular cutouts in the walls. She's greeted by another Aunt and we learn they are in fact at Jezebels, where Aunt Lyd's "precious girl" Janine has been taken after her fatal (and epic) clapback to Naomi. As they transverse ominous grey hallways with flickering lights, we learn that it's now policy for the aunts’ faces to be covered so as "not to tempt the patrons" (lol like that would stop those degenerates!). Methinks this info will come in handy in later episodes though...

We are finally led into the debauched scene of the dressing room, where Lyds looks on in shock and horror at the drugs, the skimpy outfits, the various sex-related paraphernalia. She's fully fallen down the rabbit hole and can't believe her pious little eyeballs (don't you remember Lyds? Commanders need their kink!). Her eyes finally lock onto her Janine, who we soon learn goes by "Kitty" in here (and by the way looks FAB). Her first instinct is to getJanine to cover up so she's not cold (lol, who IS THIS WOMAN?) and Janine is essentially (rightfully) like fuck the fuck off, what the fuck are you even doing here? (although somehow still in a kind and compassionate way, god bless her sweet soul). When one of the women makes fun of her hat and calls her a mean old witch, we learn that this is actually one of AL's former "of" "girls" and that in fact there are several others here in addition to Janine.

I have to sidenote here: "OfJason"'s insult here initially struck me as delightful (because she's not scared of Aunt Lydia anymore, she can't do anything to hurt her anymore, not here), and then immediately really fucking sad, because we know its because she's here in this place beyond where AL can hurt her, where so much worse things happen, where these women are worn down to inevitable numbness and loss of hope on their slow path towards death. Ugh.

If Aunt Lydia was stunned before, she's completely dumbfounded now--how did “her” "girls" end up here?? When they bore “fruit” (yuck) for Gilead?? Apparently someone told Lydia that the dog who got run over fruitful handmaids went to a beautiful farm where they get to run around happy and free for the rest of their days, and she believed it. She is determined that she and God can get Janine out of this horrible, dreadful place, no matter what Janine says. "Forget me", Janine says, as she heads off to Commander Bell's summons, but AL could never. God, just how many times is poor Janine (and Lawrence, for that matter) going to have to drop the most obvious truth bombs on Aunt Lydia before she finally GETS IT, I know she's been thoroughly programmed by the Gilead propaganda machine but still, just how thick is that skull of hers (well, I guess pretty thick, it did survive Emily's absolutely savage push down a flight of stairs, I’m remembering now with a smile).

(Yes, Aunt Lydia, they shoot horses)

As Lawrence leads a tour of Pleasantville New Bethlehem's squeaky clean main street and waxes very optimistically about liberalization without a drop of bloodshed (so of course we know there's gonna be bloodshed on the horizon), Serena is accosted (in the most old school gentlemanly way possible) by one Commander Wharton, who has just been dying to catch up with the star recruit to the cause of NB. He proceeds to blatantly hit on her in an oddly old fashioned and religiously coded way. They trade Gileadean platitudes back and forth and Serena appears to be flattered yet wary--even with her inflated ego she clocks him coming on extremely strong, and like us, she has to wonder a bit as to exactly what this man's motivation is.

At the gazebo in their Sunday finest, Wharton wonders aloud to Serena as to where-oh-where could his son-in-law be--Uh Oh. Lawrence at first seems to be holding his own but is a bit tripped up when a diplomat wants to know how the rest of the world can possibly trust their word, giving the atrocities committed by/in Gilead, especially towards women. It's certainly a hard one to answer(!), even for our favorite silver-tongued silver fox, but never fear, Serena Joy steps in to save the day with yet another grandiose speech about being chosen by God--this time tinged with a touch of (seemingly genuine?) self-reflection and repentance. We don't really get a chance to see just how convincing her words are, because right on cue, in is wheeled little Noah Waterford, the miracle baby himself, and any silly little concerns of human rights violations are quickly forgotten by the totally baby-obsessed crowd.

Honestly, I don't think Serena even needed to say a word, these people are so baby hungry. The baby fever/fervor is only bolstered as Mrs. Rose Blaine walks out, looking extremely pregnant for 5 months(!?), and really it's all over from there (handmaids, who? don't know them). Lawrence quips to the diplomat "Louise, I'm sorry but you're going to have to give that baby back" and a good, wholesome chuckle is had by all because of course all of the children Gilead stole and won't give back is in the past! A mere blip, a distant memory. Onto the baby making! Wharton's heart eyes for Serena have only grown at this point, he's got such a raging hard-on for her god-ordained fertility talk it's a wonder he can keep it in his commander pants.

(oh for a date with the Queen of Gilead)

Speaking of commander pants, Nick's are (metaphorically) wearing thin. Our poor boy is worn out. He is STRESS'T. He'd thought June was safely away, and now she's here. And now he's gotten himself roped into some crazy last minute scheme, trying to keep her out of danger while searching for a Luke-and-Moira needle in the haystack in an empty old waterpark on the edges of a No Man's Land seemingly crawling with Gilead security patrols (side note: are these the patrols Nick decided to blow Mark off about?), on the very day he's supposed to be selling New Bethlehem as the happiest place on earth to foreign dignitaries. He knows he's in trouble back "home" but first and foremost (as always) he's worried about June. "We've got to get you out of this park" he says as they're forced to hide once more. But June is stubborn as ever and not about to give in.

And the ensuing argument leads to them being the most honest and raw we've maybe seen them ever be. In his frustration over the current situation, Nick very aptly points out how he is risking his "home life" and growing family, his cover, even potentially his very life, to save her husband. Her husband, who she chose. Over Nick. "Because you chose him, you chose Luke". June's reply to this is not defensive but full of empathy, even regret; a pleading for him to understand. And while she doesn't deny it, her wording is very telling: "He waited for me. He waited for years." I had to, I felt like I had to because I owed him, the subtext is screaming, as she further expresses the guilt she feels over her technical infidelity, her love affair with Nick during those years as Luke waited: "I had you. I loved you." But Nick hones in, heartbreakingly, to the past tense of her wording: "Loved me". "Love", she corrects, confesses, reaffirms.

His weighted look back to her is full of understanding but still rife with hurt and frustration over the entire messy situation, too. For maybe the first time, he's not hiding his anguish from her "do you even know what it's like to be in love with you? It's not meant to wound or level blame, but simply an honest statement of fact, of his inevitable circumstance: here is my heart, it bleeds for you. "That's how I feel about you, I only feel that way about you" he further confesses when June says she can't lose Luke and Moira because they're a part of her. "I've lost you over and over again" he says, and she reaffirms "I'm here. I'd certainly like to think that it's meant not just as a reassurance of her physical presence, her continued vitality and safety after Gilead's assassination attempt, but indeed also the state of her heart, as it resides here, with him. Nick's raw and rare baring of his soul here surely must be striking to June, especially because the last time they spoke he seemed to be determined to move on with his new wife and baby on the way, but they must focus on the mission at hand, and so she is left to (hopefully) reflect further at a later time.

Meanwhile, we cut to the ominously shot-up giftshop, where Moira and Luke are indeed hiding out, and Luke is LOSING it, repetitively obsessing over the intel they collected and waving his gun around like a little boy playing cops and robbers. Ohemgee Get a damn hold of yourself, man! As June and Moira would say, "keep your fucking shit together!” Come to think of it, Moira is there, she can just tell him. And in fact she does, not in so many words "Commander roll call again? Stop. STOP." I'm sorry, but this guy muttering to himself, saying he shouldn't have "let" Moira come (you know, the sane one among them) and freaking out that June's not going to find him attractive if he can't pull off this mission? This is who we're supposed to believe is going to become a rebel revolutionary this season? Oy. Mayday's in trouble.

Right in the middle of more of his freaking out, a door creaks open and a (sexy) shadowy gun-toting figure emerges. Thankfully Mr. twitchy-trigger-finger does not come out guns a-blazing and accidentally shoot their rescuers. They hear June's voice and come out of hiding to embrace her as Nick hangs back awkwardly (although I did note Luke is still pointing the gun at June as he emerges lol, who did he think it was gonna be?). The 4th presence in the room is soon noticed though "That's not Mark!" and we finally get a Nick and Moira meeting(!) while Luke bird dogs him with a disgruntled stare and carelessly waves a gun around some more.

(hey guys, we should probably gtf out of here)

As they head to the car their luck runs out as a patrol suddenly pulls up and they're ordered to stop. Nick herds them to the car (of course June can't help staying closer, hiding behind some crates) as he goes to speak with the guardians. Unfortunately (especially for them), the younger lad is quite the stickler for the rules and we see the regret in Nick's face as he (and we) know what he has to do. June freaks out at the gunshots, clearly frightened for Nick, but he quickly emerges and guides her urgently to their getaway vehicle. Field trip's over kids, GET IN THE CAR!!

(apparently forgetting Texas is no longer a thing)

Back in New Bethlehem, the Lawrences, Serena, Wharton and Rose toast to a successful day--thanks to Serena herself, of course--and notably not thanks to Mr. Nick Blaine, who is still glaringly absent from the party. After a failed dick joke faux pas from Naomi and an awkward pause, Nick's father-in-law and wife once again wonder as to his whereabouts. Lawrence (we have to wonder here just exactly how much he does know) covers for Nick, mentioning something about border patrols, trade routes blah blah, and Serena (seeming to catch something is going on) provides a helpful distraction, claiming it's Noah's bedtime and whisking her new beau away for more weird 1940's religious flirting convincing as to the expansion of the New Bethlehem model, which he has notably been pushing back on.

Lydia hightails it from Jezebels back to the Lawrences', catching them as they arrive back in Boston (so NB must be fairly close in proximity for the commute back and forth to make sense?) to beg them to take Janine back (AS IF! says Naomi, and as if Janine would either). Much to Lydia's continued dismay, that ship has clearly sailed, but Joseph (after hinting at Lydia's poor health?) sends her off with a bee in her bonnet: Mrs. Waterford herself has returned to Gilead, and unlike his super cunty "old school" Gilead wife Naomi, has become quite "progressive". You can practically see the brown-bonneted wheels turning in that thick-skulled head as she jets off to find New Bethehem Barbie the newly crowned spokeswoman of the kinder, gentler, less murdery Gilead.

It's after dark as the waterpark gang arrive back in the wooded rendezvous spot where Mark has been patiently waiting to pick up his daughter from her date bring his operatives home. Mark must be pretty butt hurt because he threatens Nick with exposure if he goes dark again (umm you're WELCOME for today, Mark?). Delightfully though, Nick stands up for himself "no you won't, I'm no use to you if I'm dead. I can't do everything you want". YOU TELL HIM, Nick! Mark walks off to pout about getting ghosted (maybe he and Luke can cry together over a beer).

To Luke's chagrin, June lingers behind for just a little more Nick time. Nick starts initiating another grand farewell forever, my love, "make a good life for yourself" goodbye when June finally tells him to cut the crap. "Who are we kidding" she admits. "Ok, so, uh, what should we say instead", he wonders, amused and intrigued. "How about, see you later?" (and just like that our fave couple has a cute new catch phrase/inside joke). “Ok, see you later" he quips back lightly while his glowing heart-eyes say goddamnit, I love you so much, forever and ever, and watches her walk away with his heart once more, while their romantic bridge kiss score swells in the background. She can't help glancing back with a wistful look as she walks away, and of course he's there watching her back; her steady, stalwort rock as always.

I know I've said it before but I really love how Nick and June have these subtle little physical expressions and reactions that are for each other and each other only. A specific little smile. A glimmer in the eye. A raise of the brow. A flutter of lashes, a slow blink. An intake of breath. Just these very specific, consistent little tells that show how deeply they are affected by the other: the presence or the sudden absence of their physical nearness.

***

As we reflect on the episode title, we can of course refer to multiple themes: Lawrence's (and now Serena's) "devotion" to the concept of New Bethlehem and the reform they hope it will bring. Wharton's apparent hard on "devotion" to Serena despite seeming to barely know her (yep, definitely something up this one's sleeve). Aunt Lydia's devotion" to "her girls" and Janine in particular (she certainly has not proven her devotion to date but after like a million wakeup calls we can be hopeful she may be finally be setting on the path). Luke's new "devotion" to fighting for Hannah (or at least to wanting June to find him sexy holding a gun?). But I don't think it will be anything of a surprise that I really want to focus on the main event of this episode: obviously, Nick's undying devotion to June (no matter how much trouble and pain it has and continues to cause him).

And man, he really airs his feelings out here like never before: not just the fact of his love for June, but what it has cost and continues to cost him. His stoic mask is slipping and he's showing the raw underbelly of his bleeding heart. He's really honest, finally, about his struggles and insecurities when it comes to where June's heart truly lies.

And at this point it does seem fair for him to question: is she asking him for this favor, to help her save Luke and Moira, because she trusts only him and has complete faith in his capabilities to enact this mission (and ok yeah, maybe she also wants to see him, ok, can you blame her??)? Or because he is the sucker who will run to her aid no questions asked, time and time again, and his safety holds less value to her than her husband's? In the long run is he really expendable?

It's not that she doesn't care, we know this. We've seen her worry about Nick over the seasons and I truly can't believe that she cares more about Luke than Nick. But I do think she's guilty of underestimating the danger. Perhaps being somewhat removed from the very thick of Gilead herself at this point, or not fully appreciating the fairly fragile politician and domestic position Nick is in at the moment (is always in, really, but now with added pressure of NB's success in the balance). She often seems to view him almost as a superman, impervious and capable of anything; only engulfed in worry when there's an immediate threat at hand (the lakehouse in s2, the gunshots here). It's largely because she does have complete faith in him (maybe it's your fault for being so damn reliable, Nick! jk/jk).

But arguably, in the past he has also performed these constant favors for her with a certain sense of, not nonchalance, but smooth inevitability maybe; his loyalty has been undying and he has wanted her to see that but perhaps tried to shield her from the reality of what these frequent acts of subversion on her behalf could potentially be costing him. Aside from calling out reckless behavior on her part in the past when it put already-in-motion plans at risk (i.e. "No we're not, you're being so fucking stubborn.", he largely has not reminded her of the positions he puts himself in for her. He wants to give her this gift of devotion without the baggage of guilt. This is the first time in a while, really the first time since she's been out, that he really calls out what this devotion costs and how he could pay for it. And I don't blame him. He's tired, he's worn down. He's weary of jumping whenever June snaps her fingers and her running back to Luke after every time. There's really not much choice when he's in Gilead, and it's not really fair, but at the same time it's fully fair for him to feel it. As we are reminded again and again, in Gilead (and for those loving people stuck in Gilead), there is no real choice, only illusion of choice and a thousand shitty options. But he knows he'll keep doing it anyway, he'll keep on at least until he snaps.

June doesn't really know, nor do we as the viewers (yet) the potential wrath that the seemingly kind, gentle Rose could be capable of if her patience is stretched far enough, and as her she heads into the last crucial months of what may certainly be a stressful pregnancy, with her wayward husband's attention drawn away from her and their imminent child. Or the potential well of cruelty that may lurk underneath the mask of kind fatherly advice Commander Wharton wears. But whether it's from external or internal impetus, it seems imminent that something's got to give.

A final important point on Nick's devotion and his confessions in this episode: It's of note that Nick has really never asked June for anything, unless you count “keep yourself safe, keep Nichole safe, try and be happy”. He’s never asked her for anything besides the safety and happiness of her and their daughter. Never dared to ask for anything for himself, anything “selfish”. So it’s almost a little startling when he expresses (or at least, hints at) his desire for more: for her to choose him, not just love him from afar or in the abstract but explicitly value and prioritize him, as a lover and partner. If it was striking for the viewer, I hope it shook June up a little: planted a seed in her mind to make her realize that they still could have a future together and it would be so good. If she could just let go of the guilt and obligation she feels with Luke, have the courage to let him go and embrace what her heart truly desires.

(screencaps & captions sourced by me)

#osblaine #nick blaine #nick x june #the handmaid's tale #tht s6 #tht 6x03 #the handmaids tale spoilers #tht recaps #my silly little recaps

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