#and I have an idea in mind of what happens

[goldfades]

hiiii idea popped in my head seeing joey on the phone but like imagine he’s away and trying to help y/n get kids to bed but it’s hard since he’s away 🥰😭 sorry i have to share the imaginings happening :-))))

no, baby i love when people share their cute little ideas!!! i hope you enjoy this one<3

The second Joe’s face popped up on FaceTime, Hayes let out a dramatic gasp—like he had just seen a celebrity in the wild.

"Dada!"

You winced as his little voice echoed through the house, far louder than necessary. "Hayes, baby, inside voice," you reminded him, but it didn’t matter. The damage was already done.

From down the hall, you heard the unmistakable wail of your youngest, jolted awake by his big brother’s sudden outburst. You closed your eyes for a brief second, sighing, already bracing for the next half hour of chaos.

Joe must have heard it, too, because his face twisted in sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

You turned your attention back to the phone, where Joe was sitting in his hotel room, half-smiling, half-wincing, freshly showered with wet curls sticking to his forehead.

"That bad," you confirmed, shifting Hayes further onto your hip. He had his tiny fingers fisted in your shirt, but his eyes were locked on the screen, grinning so big it made his dimples pop.

"Hi, buddy," Joe said, his voice warm and fond.

"Dada, when you coming home?" Hayes asked, tilting his head.

Joe’s face softened. "Couple more days, bud. But guess what? We have a game tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?"

Hayes nodded enthusiastically, kicking his legs in excitement. "I wear my jersey!"

"You better. Gotta match me, right?"

Hayes nodded again, his little hands now gripping the phone like he could somehow pull Joe through the screen.

It wasn’t the first time he had gone through this phase. As you liked to say, Hayes had his "favorites"—rotating obsessions that switched every few months. Sometimes it was dinosaurs, sometimes it was a specific pair of socks he refused to take off for days at a time, and sometimes, it was Joe.

This was one of those times.

For the past couple of weeks, everything had been about Joe. Hayes only wanted to watch football, only wanted to play "catch" in the backyard, only wanted to FaceTime his dad 24/7. If Joe was around, you were nothing—completely cast aside.

Which, really, you didn’t mind. Because the way Joe lit up every time Hayes showed even an ounce of excitement over football or his job in general—it was worth every second of being ignored.

What you did mind, however, was getting him to sleep without Joe here.

"Okay, buddy, we gotta say goodnight to Dada," you said, shifting Hayes in your arms.

"No!" Hayes protested immediately, curling his little fingers into fists. "Not yet!"

Joe chuckled. "C’mon, H, listen to Mama. You gotta go to bed."

Hayes pouted. "Don’t wanna."

"Yeah, well, I don’t wanna deal with a grumpy toddler tomorrow, so you kinda have to," you muttered under your breath, earning a soft laugh from Joe.

"How about this?" Joe offered. "I’ll stay on FaceTime while you get in bed, and I’ll tell you a story, okay?"

Hayes perked up immediately. "A story?"

"Yeah," Joe grinned. "But only if you’re in bed."

Hayes was already wiggling out of your grasp before Joe had even finished his sentence, making a beeline for his room. You sighed in relief, grabbing the monitor from the counter before following behind.

By the time you got to his room, he was already under the covers, clutching his stuffed tiger, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Alright, let’s hear it, Burrow," you said, settling into the rocking chair, phone still in hand.

Joe laughed, then launched into one of Hayes’ favorites—something about a football-playing dinosaur that you were pretty sure Joe had made up on the fly one night, but Hayes had loved it ever since.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Hayes’ blinks got heavier, and his tiny body started relaxing into the mattress.

By the time Joe reached the end of the story, his voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Hayes was out.

"Thank God," you sighed, carefully tucking the blanket around your son before stepping out into the hallway.

Joe was smirking when you looked back at the screen. "See? Easy."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, ‘easy’ because you get to do the fun part. Try dealing with the bath time tantrums before you get cocky."

Joe laughed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I miss you, though. And I miss Hayes."

Your heart clenched. "He misses you, too."

"I’ll be home soon, I promise."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, voice softer now.

"You’re doing such a good job, you know that?"

You felt it—the warmth spreading through your chest, the way your shoulders relaxed at his words.

"Thank you," you murmured. "Now hurry up and win so you can get back home to your biggest fan."

Joe grinned. "I think that’s you."

You huffed out a laugh. "Not even close. That title officially belongs to your tiny clone."

Joe laughed, shaking his head. "Fine. But you’re a close second."

And somehow, that was enough.

--

Joe had barely stepped foot through the door before Hayes came barreling toward him, arms wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Joe barely had time to drop his bag before scooping him up. "There’s my boy!" he grinned, pressing a kiss to Hayes’ chubby cheek. "Missed you, bud."

"Missed you too," Hayes said, but before Joe could even savor the moment, Hayes was already wiggling out of his grasp.

Joe blinked in confusion as his son ran right past him and straight to Maisie, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

"AUNT MAISIE!" Hayes shouted, climbing into her lap like she was his long-lost hero.

Maisie barely looked up, smirking. "What’s up, little dude?"

Joe stood there, stunned. Mouth slightly open, arms still mid-air from where he had just been cast aside like a used toy.

You were trying so hard not to laugh.

Maisie shot Joe a cocky look, ruffling Hayes’ curls. "Told you. I’m officially the favorite now."

Joe scoffed. "That’s not possible."

You snorted. "Oh, it’s possible. It happened while you were gone. Apparently, Maisie’s the ‘cool’ one now."

Joe crossed his arms. "I thought I was the cool one."

Maisie let out a dramatic sigh, adjusting her sunglasses (which she was still wearing inside, for some reason). "You had a good run, but the people have spoken."

Joe turned to Hayes, genuinely confused. "Buddy, what about football? What about watching game film with me? What about—?"

"I like Aunt Maisie’s music better," Hayes cut in, matter-of-factly.

Joe looked genuinely offended. "What’s wrong with my music?"

Maisie let out a loud laugh. "Oh my God. You’ve been replaced by Taylor Swift and the Encanto soundtrack."

Joe’s face dropped. "That’s not fair. Encanto has bangers."

"You don’t even know the words to ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno,’" you pointed out.

Joe gasped, pointing at you accusingly. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Oh, absolutely," you grinned.

Joe groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Unbelievable. Gone for one week and I’m completely irrelevant."

Maisie patted his shoulder. "It happens to the best of us, man."

Joe sighed, finally giving in. "Fine. But just so you know, he’s gonna want to play football with me again in, like, two weeks."

Maisie smirked. "We’ll see."

And honestly? You weren’t so sure. Because the way Hayes was currently clinging to Maisie’s side, giggling at whatever TikTok she had just shown him?

Yeah. Joe was gonna have to work really hard to win back his title.

[enviedear]

stay, little valentine, stay ｡𖦹° jason todd

🎧ྀི your roommate makes the fateful mistake of passing you, his roommate, off as his girlfriend to his boundary ignorant family. now the both of you are tasked with maintaining a faux romance for the entirety of a dinner at wayne manor—simple enough, right?

wc 4.2k | roommate!jason, lowercase intended, fem!reader, brief mention of booze, cursing, mutual pining, two idiots fake dating…truly what more can i say (a lot, so). please, enjoy my 'funny little valentines' day special ᯓᡣ𐭩

“there’s not enough room in the freezer for the ice trays. either move your booze or enjoy an ice free apartment,” your voice is tinged with annoyance as you stare down your long-term roommate.

he’s laid back on the shared couch, right cushion side, staring back at you with a impish grin on his face, “or, you could finally throw out that cake you bought for your ‘promotion’ party. since, the fuckin’ promotion never happened and it takes up half of my freezer.”

“our freezer.” you add. “and fuck you, i could still get that promotion any day now. i can always unfreeze it—good as new.”

jason seems to be beginning to tune you out as your eyes drift to a new letter on the fridge, stuck on with an ‘i hate gotham’ magnet. the print is fancy, cursive, bold black ink—YOU’RE INVITED—it reads.

“what are we invited to?” you ask, ice tray debacle not at all at the forefront of your mind now. not when you can tell your roommate’s got an invite from his estranged past guardian, none other than bruce wayne.

he hums a reply at first, still zeroed in to the rerun of some prison show. when he finally picks up on your question he sours, visibly, “some idiotic anniversary dinner for dick and kori. we’re not going, you weren’t even invited.”

you pout, “i want to go! why can’t we go?”

jason’s got a stern look on his face now, and you’ve always found it so unnerving how quickly he musters it up—usually so relaxed in your shared domain.

“we’re not going because i told a lie, and if we show up…everyone will know.” he groans, “just drop it, i need a little more time to ride this out.”

suddenly more intrigued, you prance over to him on the couch, flopping down beside him, “a lie?”

“don’t. just drop it.” he huffs at the obvious annoyance on your face, “it’s just stupid.”

“c’mon, we know all of each others ‘stupid’ shit. what was the lie, todd?” you’re being genuine, riddling your appeasement with a sweetly sardonic tone.

finally, after a good minute of staring at a very completive jason, he cracks, “i might have alluded to being in a relationship with you.”

your smile cracks before he even finishes his admission, oscillating between confusion and sheer giddiness—trying to halt the part of your brain that wants to imagine a life where a relationship isn’t such a laughable idea.

you curl your lips to stifle your last giggles before looking back up at him, “why?”

jason shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the question. his eyes dart away from yours, finding sudden interest in the television screen, "bruce kept...asking about my life here. if i was settling in, if i was happy." he runs a hand through his dark hair, "and then, all the others got involved, asking to set me up with people. i needed them to stop asking. and you-" he pauses, scratching the back of his neck, "you were the most believable option.”

you stare at him, unblinking, trying to process his words. "most believable option…” you repeat slowly, testing how the phrase feels on your tongue. a warmth spreads across your chest-whether from flattery or something else entirely, you're not quite sure. "so, what? think i can’t pretend to be your girlfriend for a dinner?" the idea sends an unwelcome flutter through your chest. you curse yourself.

jason's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite read. "you'd do that?" he asks, his voice carrying an unusual note of vulnerability.

"of course," you reply, trying to keep your tone light and casual. "what are roommates for? plus, free fancy dinner at wayne manor? count me in." you're aiming for nonchalance, but your heart is racing at the prospect.

jason's jaw clenches, a tell-tale sign of him thinking too hard, "it's not that simple. they'll know it's fake. bruce especially—dick and tim too—they’re too observant for their own good.”

"oh please," you wave off his concern, settling deeper into the couch cushions, "we've lived together for what, two years now? we already act like an old married couple anyway. i know your coffee order, you know my work schedule. we share groceries, we fight about ice trays—“ you gesture broadly to the kitchen, "it's practically method acting at this point."

he looks at you then, really looks at you, with an expression you can't quite read. "you'd really do that? pretend to be with me in front of my entire family?"

"of course i would," you say softly, nudging his shoulder with yours. "what are friends for if not to fake date each other to avoid awkward family dinners?" you try to keep your tone light, ignoring the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you that rare, genuine smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"fine." he finally concedes, shrugging his shoulders, "but we need to get our story straight. no holes, no gaps—i figured we'd keep it close to the truth. roommates who gradually realized there was something more." he pauses, then adds, "the best lies are built on truth or some shit, right?”

you nod, and start crafting the imagined romance with jason. over the next hour, you both piece together your relationship timeline—how you first bonded over late night takeout after his patrols, the way you'd patch him up after particularly rough nights, and how somewhere between shared grocery runs and movie marathons, faux you fell for him. or him for you—the both of you can't agree on that just yet.

you try not to focus on how easy it is to imagine, how some of these made-up memories feel more like documentation rather than fabrication.

"okay, and when did we actually get together?" you ask, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to ignore how invested you're becoming in this alternate reality.

"three months ago." jason answers quickly, too quickly, like he's already thought about this. "after that night I came home really beaten up, remember? you were so pissed at me for being reckless."

you remember that night vividly—how he ever thinks you could forget, you’re unsure.

him stumbling through the window at three in the morning, blood seeping through his stupid jacket. how your hands shook as you stitched him up, how quiet he was, how close his blanched face was to yours. you’d attributed the racing of your heart to fear, but now…not so much.

"yeah," you say softly. "that works."

the rest of the week flies by in a blur of preparation and anxiety, until suddenly it's the night of the dinner, and you're standing in front of your mirror, wondering if you've made a terrible mistake.

you're wearing a deep red-toned dress that hits just above your knee—something you'd bought on a whim (a fifty percent off sale) months ago and never found the right occasion for. jason had given it an approving nod when you'd shown him, which somehow makes you feel more nervous than reassured as you stare yourself down.

"ready?" jason's voice comes from behind you, and you turn to find him adjusting his tie in the hallway mirror. he looks…different. good different. the suit fits him perfectly, and you wonder briefly if alfred had something to do with that. the older man has a penchant for doting over your overgrown battling ram of a roommate.

"as i'll ever be." you manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "but, um, how convincing do you think we need to be?"

jason's eyes meet yours in the mirror, "enough to fool the world's greatest detective," he sighs, "and his army of protégés." he turns to face you properly, and something in his expression softens, but he looks away too quickly for you to discern, "you look really pretty."

"thanks." you mumble, fiddling with your clutch. "so do you. very…boyfriend."

he laughs, but it sounds slightly strained. "that's the idea, isn't it?" he offers his arm to you, "shall we?"

the drive to wayne manor is muted. jason's knuckles are white on the shifter, and you find yourself reaching over to place your hand over his without thinking. he startles slightly, but he doesn't pull away—even keeps contact as he switches gears.

"hey." you start softly, "we've got this. we know each other better than anyone, we live together. besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

jason sighs, his hand tightening slightly under yours. "you clearly don’t know how bruce and tim get at these things. anniversary or not, they'll smell blood in the water if we slip up."

"relax," you assure him, glancing out at the looming trees lining the driveway. "i doubt they’ll care about your relationship timeline when they’re busy fawning over how happy dick and kori are."

jason shoots you a look that clearly says 'don't tempt fate', but his grip on the wheel loosens slightly. "just…follow my lead. and if it gets too weird, we can always fake a medical emergency."

"that...is always an option." you grin, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips when he smiles back.

the manor looms up ahead, and as jason pulls up to the gate, you feel his hand squeeze yours briefly, almost indecipherable.

"last chance to back out." he murmurs.

you intertwine your fingers with his, ignoring the voice in your head that whispers how right it feels. "not a chance, todd. you're stuck with me."

the gates open, and as you drive up the winding driveway, you're unable to shake the feeling that you're about to cross a line you can't come back from. but with jason's hand so warm and relaxed in yours, you're not sure you want to.

jason parks the car in front of the house at the partition, "in case we need a quick exit." he shrugs.

"i think you're too worried, jason. i doubt they'll even question it. you said they wanted you dating anyway, i bet they'll just be happy." your voice is quiet, hand hovering in front of the doorbell.

he sighs, "you don't know these people, they question everything."

before you can reply or try to alleviate his doubts, the double doors fly open. you grab jason's hand in your own and pull him closer, just as alfred sets eyes on the pair of you.

alfred's eyes visibly brighten at the sight of both of you, his normally reserved expression softening into something fonder, "master jason," he greets, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "and miss, how lovely for you to be joining tonight. everyone is very excited to meet you, i fear my few stories were not enough to quell them."

you smile, a real genuine one too, "it's nice to see you again alfred! i hope we're not too late—jason decided to change his tie last minute."

alfred hums and beckons you both inside, "fashionable tardiness, miss. i assure you."

jason, hand now sweaty in yours, chuckles, "he's being nice since you're with me. he's usually irate by my lateness."

you shoot jason a pointed look as alfred continues. "master richard and miss kori have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. their anniversary dinner is a rare occasion they’ve pulled out all the stops for, you see."

jason grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, overachievers.

the sound of multiple voices echos through from a room, and you feel jason's grip tighten slightly. you've heard stories about his family for years now—mostly complaints, occasionally fond remembrances, and everything in between during late night conversations over takeout.

"master bruce insisted on formal dining tonight." alfred mentions, though his tone suggests mild disapproval. you've learned over your visits that alfred much prefers when the family dines in the kitchen.

jason scoffs quietly, "because god forbid we eat somewhere comfortable." you squeeze his hand again, a silent reminder of your emergency exit strategy. two years of living together has given you an extensive library of non-verbal communications.

the dining room, when you enter, is exactly as alfred has described it countless times—grandiose in a way that speaks to old money and older traditions. the table stretches long and elegant, set with what you recognize as the ‘good china’ alfred often mentions.

your muscles tense slightly as you finally notice all of the eyes on you—staring and studying—you have to think before you step.

bruce wayne rises first, and despite all of jason's stories, despite seeing him on tv and in newspapers, you're struck by his presence. "jason." he greets, then turns his attention to you. "we've all heard quite a bit about you from alfred, though significantly less from my son."

you feel jason's posture stiffen, but you're prepared for this. "oh, you know how jason is with sharing things." you say easily, the words flowing naturally after years of defending his privacy to nosy neighbors and concerned coworkers. "though, alfred's probably told you all my embarrassing stories by now."

dick grayson—exactly as handsome as the magazines suggest—breaks into a wide grin. "actually, alfred's been surprisingly tight lipped. just kept saying we should ask jason ourselves." his eyes sparkle with mischief. "which, of course, got us nowhere."

"some things don't need to be broadcast to the whole family." jason grumbles, but his thumb is mindlessly drawing small circles on your hand, a gesture you've learned means he's more comfortable than he's letting on. 

"oh, but this is so wonderful!" a melodic, cheerful voice chimes in, and you glance up to see koriand’r—kori to most—seated beside dick, her vibrant curly red hair catching the light as she smiles radiantly. "you must forgive us for prying, but jason does not often share such…delightful surprises."

"by 'us,' she means her." dick cuts in with a smirk, earning a playful nudge from kori.

"yes, and what of it?" she replies lightly, turning her attention fully to you. "you see, jason is like a tamaranian grisnek—so fierce and protective on the outside, but underneath, he is all kindness and loyalty. how could we not be curious about the person who has captured his heart?"

"great. glad we're all analyzing my personal life at the dinner table." jason mutters, though his hand stays on yours, his grip steady.

"do not be fooled," kori says in a whisper that is anything but subtle, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "jason pretends to be irritated, but inside, i know he is glowing with happiness."

your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself, and jason sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging with mock defeat. "i think i'm gonna need another drink."

kori leans back, laughing softly, the sound warm and lilting, as she looks between you and jason once more. "you are lovely." she adds sincerely, her tone softening. "and jason could not have chosen better."

tim drake, who you've only seen in passing when he's stopped by your apartment to drop off miscellaneous ‘private’ documents, raises an eyebrow. "yes, it's all very sweet." he hums it almost, tone carefully neutral but eyes sharp, studying you.

"sweet indeed." you agree, letting some of your genuine fondness for jason color your voice. it's not hard to fake being in love with someone when you've spent two years memorizing their coffee order, patching up their wounds, and falling asleep on their shoulder during movie marathons. the hard part, you're starting to realize, might be pretending it's all pretend.

bruce barely looks up from his plate as he speaks again, cutting through your blissful thoughts of jason, “a shame i wasn’t aware you two were involved.”

jason tenses beside you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “yeah, well. guess you don’t know everything, old man.”

bruce sets his fork down with deliberate slowness. his gaze flicks between the two of you, assessing, “i never said i did.” his voice is even, unreadable. “but you don’t bring people around often. that’s worth noting.”

jason scoffs, like he couldn’t care less, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, unease, probably both.

jason’s hand finds yours under the table. it’s definitely not a calculated move, not a necessary nor obvious display for the act you’re putting on. it’s just—there. warm and solid, his fingers curling around yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you don’t let go.

dinner progresses with a strange mix of tension and ease. You find yourself falling into natural conversation with dick about your work, while jason maintains a careful distance from bruce's attempts at engagement. still, his hand hasn't left yours, and you're starting to wonder if he's forgotten it's all for show.

"so—how did you two finally get together?" dick asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

you exchange a quick glance with jason, settling into the story you've rehearsed. "it wasn't really some big dramatic moment," you say, the lie feeling uncomfortably close to the truth. "we just...realized we work."

jason picks up the thread smoothly, his thumb still tracing patterns on your hand. "she was patching me up after a rough night, mad at me for being so bruised," he says, and you can hear the genuine emotion in his voice. "and i just...i dont know—knew, i guess."

tim's watching you both with analytical eyes, and you wonder if he can see through the charade. "that tracks." he says finally. "you two have always been...close."

"speaking of close," dick interjects with a grin, "i think it's hilarious jason used to insist you were 'just roommates', and yet never went on any of the dates i set him up on. i should have known, really." there's a pout on his face, humourous.

you laugh, perhaps a bit too nervously, "well, we were. for a while." the irony of the statement isn't lost on you. you can see jason watching you from your peripheral, face stoic—but his eyes are soft. the way they watch over you, simply affectionate.

bruce, who's been quietly observing, finally speaks. "i'm glad jason has someone looking out for him," he says, and there's something in his tone that makes your heart ache. "he's always been...independent."

jason's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "yeah, well, some things change." he mutters, but there's less bite in his words than usual.

the conversation shifts to safer topics—work, current events, alfred's latest culinary experiments. you find yourself relaxing despite the pretense, falling into familiar patterns of banter with jason, finishing his sentences, and sharing knowing looks.

it's during dessert that damian, who's been suspiciously quiet, finally speaks up. "you're good for him," he declares with all the authority of a youngest sibling. "he's less annoying when you're around."

jason chokes on his tiramisu, and you pat his back automatically, the gesture so natural you don't even think about it. "thanks, damian!" you say, fighting back a smile. "i think."

as the evening winds down and dinner ends, you find yourself in the manor's vast library, having wandered away from the group for a moment of quiet. besides, you feel somewhat redundant against their coded phrases and stories. jason finds you, as he always does.

"hey." he speaks softly, coming to stand beside you. "you doing okay?"

you turn to face him, suddenly very aware of how close he is. "yeah, i'm good. your family's...intense, but nice. just like you said."

he laughs quietly, but there's something different in his eyes. "you're amazing, you know that? playing along with all this. you didn't have to."

"i wanted to." you admit, and it feels dangerous how true those words are. "besides, what are fake girlfriends for?"

jason's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. but then dick's voice calls from somewhere far off in the house and the moment gaps.

"we should head back." jason says, but he doesn't move. "before they send a search party."

you nod, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. "yeah, we should."

but neither of you moves, caught in this strange liminal space where pretend and reality blur, and you're no longer sure which is which. even less sure if you hunger for dreams or waking existence—which is which? for a split second, you want to reach out. you desperately want to feel him—to possibly transfer the devotion you’re still too afraid to admit you harbor.

jason’s breath is staggered, coming out forced and shallow. his eyes, darker in the dim light, are flitting between you and the door—until he focuses in on you, fully. you’re too confused as to why he’s getting closer to you to react accordingly when his lips brush yours.

your first instinct is to furrow your brows, still confused. then, you kiss back. hungrily. confusion still fogs your mind, but nowhere near the way jason does. his lips are chapped, plump, and still tasting faintly of expensive dark liquor. his body cages you close him, hands respectfully at your shoulders. of course the only thing you can recognize is jason.

you err on the side respectfulness—opting to tug him closer by the tie. there’s a flash of the memory of him putting it on, and you can’t fight a small smirk from slipping onto your lips. jason must notice, because he finally breaks away to peer down at you.

“what?” he whispers, panting and staring down at your lips.

“what do you mean, what? we kissed.” you still feel giddy from his kiss, but reality begins to settle into you like a winter chill.

jason watches you closely, his expression a mix of smugness and unease, “hmmm—playing it dangerous.” he finally murmurs, shaking his head.

you arch a brow, feigning derision. “you say that to all the girls, todd?”

he exhales a laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “yeah,” he huffs. “that grand number of...you.”

before you can say anything, footsteps echo just outside the library's door. jason instinctively steps back, widening the space between you just as dick pokes his head in. “there you two are! we were about to send out a search party.”

you smile, pushing down the lingering tension. “sorry. just taking a little tour.”

dick’s gaze flickers between you and jason, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “right. well, come on. we're playing charades—and bruce is actually smiling. you don’t want to miss that.”

jason groans, but he follows you and dick back back toward the others. his hand brushes against yours in the hallway, and for a second, you think he’s going to take it again. but he doesn’t. 

charades is winding down by the time you return, alfred putting away various dry erase boards and markers with the kind of efficiency only a butler can possesses.

kori beams when she sees you, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “lovebrids! you have returned!" she gestures to herself and grayson, "thank you for coming—we would like to extend our support to your relationship.”

jason lets out a little breath, like he wasn’t expecting that—like he isn’t sure what to do with the sincerity. “thanks, kori.”

bruce, too, seems slightly less intimidating now. “thank you for coming—you’re welcome here anytime, both of you.” he tells you, and it sounds like a rare offering.

something about it all settles in your chest, warm and unexpected. you’ve spent so much time being jason’s person in private—patching him up, watching his back, making sure he gets home in one piece—that it’s almost startling to have it acknowledged in front of everyone else.

goodnights and goodbyes come soon after, and tim catches jason by the elbow before the pair of you can walk out the door, pulling him aside for a hushed conversation. you linger near the doorway, talking with kori and dick, but you can’t help the way your attention keeps flickering back to jason.

when he finally returns to your side, his expression is unreadable. “ready to go?”

you nod, murmuring your goodbyes as you both step back into the night air. jason doesn’t say anything as he leads you back to the car, but his hands flex at his sides.

the drive back is quieter than before, the easy banter from earlier replaced with something heavier, something neither of you seems willing to touch just yet. jason’s grip is tight on the wheel, his jaw set, eyes fixed on the road.

it isn’t until you’re pulling into the familiar streets near your apartment that he finally speaks. “they bought it.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “yeah? i told you so.”

jason’s eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second before he exhales. “thank you, seriously. you were great.”

you glance at him, something warm curling in your chest. “we just make a good team.”

something glints in his expression, something hesitant, something aching. “yeah,” he agrees, voice quieter. “we do.”

the silence stretches between you as he parks the car. you unbuckle your seatbelt, but neither of you make a move to get out. stuck stagnant.

“so, this is was fake...” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

jason’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, knuckles red. “yeah.”

you should leave it at that. you should forget the kiss. you should revert back to just his roommate. you should laugh it off, make some joke about how convincing you both were—but you don't—instead you say, “does it still feel fake to you? us...tonight?”

jason’s breath catches. for a long moment, he doesn’t answer. you almost let doubt seep in.

then, he turns, his eyes dark and searching. “god, no.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and you swallow hard, pulse roaring in your ears. “good. me neither.”

for a second, he just looks at you, like he’s waiting for you to take it back, to laugh it off. but you don’t, you won't. and when he leans in—slow, hesitant, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away—you don’t.

you decide to meet him halfway, instead.

writer’s note .☘︎ ݁˖ all of my thanks to the helpful, @sunnie-angel for being my beta reader for this fic! thank you again for your services—and your sweet comments on this little story, very very happy to have a moot like you !!!

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[chrollohearttags]

hard to breathe • portgas d. ace

seeing your ‘ex’ boyfriend ace one last time for closure..or so you thought. (based off of this song I’ve been obsessed with for months. It’s ‘old’ but I felt like it fit him and the vibe of this fic)

📝: black fem!reader, lots of relationship angst, modern au, heavy kissing, arguing + lots of dialogue, they’re slightly toxic ( y’all both ain’t shit I’m sorry 😭), riding, car sex, dirty talk, breeding, baby trapping (kinda), infidelity, hair pulling, pet names and daddy used, crying

wc: 4.1K

🎙️: I love writing my faves in a bunch of different scenarios, including ones that aren’t typical for their personality. This is in no way condoning toxicity, infidelity or anything of the sort. I just thought it would be a lil fun to experiment.

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“Where are you right now?”

“I should be with you..”

“You know that’s not a good idea..”

“Yeah, but it’s what we both want..who cares if it’s wrong or not?”

3:30am

the deep drawl on the other end of the line luring you in with each word..it always had a tendency to do so, even when you wished you could just ignore it.

“Ace, what the hell do you want from me? Stop this.”

“C’mon, babe. It’s the truth. Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty..what did I tell you? You’ve got to stop giving so much a damn about what other people think.”

“Go to hell. Not everyone can just mistreat people like it’s nothing.”

it was a shame honestly..this type of behavior was so unbecoming of both of you. A sweet girl who didn’t like to make much of a fuss for anyone or over anything. And him, the shining example of a stand up guy. Charming, kind, helpful, a little rough around the edges but what every man should strive to be. Yet here you were..whispering into the speaker of your phone as to not wake the one in the room next to you. A mere replacement to dull the ache in your heart caused by him and his stupidity. Meanwhile, he was chuckling in your ear. Seemingly teasing you because he could sense the tension in your shaky voice. He knew you’d bolt the second you heard a ruffle from the other room…but he also knew you’d never hang up. Knew you couldn’t resist answering in the first place and for damn sure, that you couldn’t resist his offer…

“I want to see you. I can be at your place in ten..”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? It’s late, Ace..and—“

“And what? Afraid your little boyfriend might wake up? I know it’s not because you don’t want to see me either.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? How dare you? You ended things, Ace. Not me. So why the fuck do you keep hitting me up?”

the line would fall silent for a moment..only the shallow echoes of your breath captured on the opposite end. That was until you’d hear a sigh and his voice once more. This time with a much less arrogant tone.

“Listen, (y/n)..I get it. I fucked up..it’s my fault things turned out this way and I’m sorry. I know I can’t go back or change anything that happened between us but I can try to make it right. Even if it means someone else gets to do what I couldn’t…I just wanted a chance to apologize. In person…which I should’ve been man enough to do from the jump.”

the things in question? Your relationship..a bond of three years to be exact and a union everyone was certain would end in the two of you walking down the aisle. However, life has a funny way of throwing even the biggest of curveballs. This man had all but swept you off your feet one night a few summers ago..both out with friends and enjoying the night life as young singles should. Drinking, laughing and having a blast. Even though you were a bit more on the reserved side, he still managed to spot you out of all the beautiful women in that club that night. And trust, a fair share of them had been vying for his attention. Even so, he couldn’t focus on anyone but you. That was one of Ace’s many wonderful qualities. In a room full of people, he managed to make you feel special..as if you were the only one there. Which wasn’t exactly intentional..his biggest issue was that he tried to be friendly, trying his hardest not to hurt anyone’s feelings anymore. He struggled with his anger quite a bit when he was younger, taking next to nothing to set him off and if he was in the midst of conversation with one person, it was best that no one else tried to interrupt. However, he realized that only caused trouble so he always tried to greet someone regardless. It just didn’t fare very well when it came to women. No girl wants someone that it seems everyone can access to!

But alas, you sat in that section next to him; nursing your drinks and exchanging pleasantries. He was so easy to talk to. He had this awkward yet charming charisma about him. Almost as if despite his good looks, he wasn’t the ‘ladies man’ you’d peg him to be off first glance. Somehow though, he managed to get your number and the rest was history. You began hanging out, going on a couple dates..even spending a weekend together after a bad storm trapped the two of you inside of his apartment. You really enjoyed being around him and as time passed, the bond grew stronger. Six months later, you came over to visit and found yourself greeted by smoke and an obviously frustrated Ace covered in soot..a result of him attempting to cook a dinner to formally ask you to be his girlfriend! It was those goofy yet sweet gestures that made you adore him.

perfectly flawed was the best way to describe him in your book…maybe he made mistakes and maybe he didn’t come from this picturesque family but he was a damn good guy doing his best to be better than what he was used to. He was a hard worker and willing to fight for what he wanted.

You cherished every moment you guys got to spend together and at one point, you even got matching tattoos of half hearts on each of your hands..however, things began to crumble in the once ideal world you had curated together.

going from laughing all the time to petty arguments that seemed intentional. From spending late nights together..making love until the sun shines over your bodies..now you were blowing up his phone to see where he was. You began to suspect that he was cheating. Perhaps somewhere with another woman. But you were wrong..truth be told, he was running.

running away from a healthy home and relationship because he didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know how to process being loved unconditionally without expecting the worst to happen…he never figured himself to be good enough for you to begin with but here you were..constantly showering him with affection; buying him gifts, making his favorite meals and even surprising him with massages after long, stressful days at work. You were everything he didn’t deserve! Hence why..he felt the need to blow it up before it could escalate. He couldn’t let you continue treating someone like him as if he were special. Three weeks later, he texted you asking to break up and to say you were devastated? Was an understatement. You loved this man so damned much, you had already begun looking at wedding dresses and contemplating baby names, figuring you guys were in this for the long run. But fairy tales don’t exist and you weren’t getting the story book ending. Instead, you were left heartbroken..trying to piece yourself back together and figure out what went wrong.

“Just one last time, that’s all I’m asking. I want to say I’m sorry and then I’m out of your hair for good, I promise. I won’t bother you ever again..”

a solid compromise, you supposed. Besides, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to look him in his eye and tell him to go fuck himself for how he fumbled you. He’d plead, calling your name until he got a response and finally:

“I’ll be in the lobby, call me when you get here.” Before disconnecting the line and releasing a heavy sigh. You fought back tears but in order for the next chapter of your life to begin, you had to finish this one. But the funny thing about some books…

is that they refused to remain closed!

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page break bc I don’t do filler

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“..it’s nice to see you again. You look beautiful as always—“

“Enough of the small talk. State your business and make it quick.”

the two of you sat parked outside of your luxury apartment complex, downstairs in the desolate parking garage. Your arms folded across your chest in a defensive manner and his stretched across the steering wheel..that goofy snark on his face as he kissed his teeth. He knew you were fighting so hard to stand firm in your boundaries, something you struggled with in the past. And truthfully, he hated to disrupt that peace…but he was selfish, gluttonous even. He wasn’t always this nice guy everyone saw him as. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too and if that meant he’d leave your head a mess once again then so be it. A fucked up sentiment but the truth nonetheless..

“…damn. It's like that then? Fair enough..”

turning in his seat, Ace shifted and focused his attention directly on you. It was hard to maintain eye contact because how could he face you after such a betrayal? Even so, this was his bed he made and it was time to lie in it.

“The truth is...I was afraid. One day, you’d wake up and realize that I wasn’t what you thought I was. That I was broken and I didn’t have my shit together. It’s like no matter what I did in my life, I found a way to fuck it up. Make a mess of things..I’m not like you, (y/n). Honestly, what could you possibly see in me? Don’t you want someone who’s your equal?”

by this time, tears were beginning to swell in his eyes as well. The more he spoke, he realized that these feelings of insecurity were always within him. You promised yourself that you were just going to give him a piece of your mind, storm out and never have to see him again. But it was never that easy with this man.

you knew he was genuine and not just trying to victimize himself. He honestly felt like you could do so much better. But he also knew by the look in your eyes that you were not going to let him get away so easily.. You didn’t hate him, hell, you couldn’t even bring yourself to fully get angry with him for what he did. Looking down, Ace would begin to chuckle; a weird coping mechanism for him in times of stress and uttered the last words you wanted to hear.

“And after all this time, all the bullshit I put you through..you still love me, don’t you? That’s the only reason you’re still sitting here..the only reason you didn’t hang up. When you’re done with something, you never give it a second thought.” sitting cross armed, you’d begin to laugh. Not at his hurt but at the fact that for the first time in almost five years of knowing him, you saw him show genuine, raw emotion. You saw him finally let down his guard and be himself…as sad as it was, it was a bit cathartic.

“Wow…so you are capable of communicating your feelings and there isn’t a ten foot wall of bullshit in that head of yours.” Poking the side of his temple playfully..

“Of course I love you. I never stopped, you inconsiderate jackass. What did I ever do to you? That’s all I could ask myself. You keep talking about me deserving better and all of this bullshit..who gave you the right to decide what I wanted and what I deserve? Shouldn’t I have a say too? You left because it was easy, Ace. Instead of working through it with me, you ran because you don’t want anyone thinking you’re weak. That’s not how relationships work..we’re supposed to see each other at our worst, our best..good and bad days. If you feel insecure about anything, you did it to yourself because you were perfect to me and you know damn well I never made you feel anything less than.”

those words stung like none other. And honestly, no matter what he said, there wasn’t a good enough excuse for any of his behavior. You said it best..he was selfish, immature and didn’t think clearly. Ace had a knack for marching to the beat of his own drum and damn the consequences.

“..you’re right, (y/n). It’s my fault..and I can’t take any of it back…” suddenly, you’d feel his hand clutch the top of your own, intertwining your fingers as he stared you in the eye.

“..but I can try to fix it. Fix us..let me make this right. Please…if you’re happier with someone else, then there’s nothing I can do. But—“ In that moment, (y/n) had finally heard all that you could take. Reaching over the console, you’d clutch his face in your palm and shove your lips together. The sensation of that warm kiss sent a surge throughout your body..a spark you hadn’t felt since the day he left.

“Are you done? God, I swear you talk too damn much.” Prompting him to laugh as you held the side of his face. He was a little taken aback by your sudden dominance. Not knowing you to ever take control like this but he wasn’t mad about it one bit..

“..why’d you kiss me? What about your boyfriend?” A question as disrespectful as it was rhetorical.

“You’re as dumb as you are cute sometimes. You think I came all the way out here at three am to chit chat? Nut uh, you owe me..also, you’re a greedy bastard. No way you’re letting me go back in that apartment unless it’s with you." By this time, your hands were roaming his chest and your faces were only inches apart. His lips would curl into a sheepish grin before his palm snaked to the back of your neck, tugging your head towards him.

“..what can I say, babe? I’m just too damn stubborn..I always have to get my way.” And with that, you’d find your tongues joined together again. Twirling around one another with heavy whimpers mixed in. Suddenly, you’d find yourself crawling into the driver's seat and onto his lap. Just as you’d suspected, he’d worn those gray sweats you’d always loved to see him in and a black tank top to display his muscles, along with a newly acquired tattoo.

This man was not slick at all! Even so, his little tactic worked because all those memories of late nights and early mornings with him came rushing back. When you’d find yourself sneaking out on lunch breaks at work just to come eat his dick up or when he’d show up at your apartment around midnight because he’d work the closing shift again. With a bottle of wine and the intention of putting you through the mattress in every position after two glasses got you turned on. It was always exciting and spontaneous with Ace, something your ‘new man’ lacked. Slowly winding in his lap as you continued to make out, (y/n) caressed his torso..missing the familiar touch of his skin, taking in the scent of his cologne and immersing yourself in him. He’d run his thumbs across your throat, gently squeezing as you took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re so beautiful..I missed you.” “Yeah? You missed me, baby?” Teasing him as you bounced your ass against his crotch, subtly twerking on his visible bulge. Caressing your gentle fingertips across his freshly shaven jawline. You could feel him growing harder underneath him and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Even kissing on his neck and licking on his jugular. “Mmmm..fuck. Pull that dress up and I’ll show you just how much.” Without a single bit of hesitation, you lifted the hem and allowed your bare cheeks and slit to graze him. Shuffling around underneath you, Ace slid his thumbs into the sides of those sweats, letting them pool around his waist. Meanwhile, he couldn’t stop marking your neck and lips with tender kisses..or apologizing for how stupid he was! Being here with you again brought back a flood of memories and emotions..ones that he never wanted to lose again. He needed this to be real once more. However, you weren’t much for talking right now..if he wanted to win his girl back, all you needed were actions.

“Why are you still talking? Just fuck the shit out of me before I grow a conscience and change my mind.” Your command being heard loud and clear; forcing him to grip your waist and balance you above that aching tip. Swollen red and seeping with precum, he was eager for you and that warm cunt was welcoming him in.

“Yes ma’am..whatever you say.” Following up his remark with a toothy smirk so you knew he was going to deliver and give you exactly what you were looking for. (Y/N) reclined against the steering wheel for a moment as he slowly infiltrated that entrance. That core drooling as he made home inside of you. Both of your heads fell backwards in a haze of pleasure…enjoying the all too familiar feeling of being one!

“Shiiit..why are so fucking tight? Oh my gosh..” those breathy moans and whines escaped his mouth the second he began thrusting. Not even two pumps in and he was trying to maintain his composure. With you though, he failed pretty quick. Reacclimating to the warmth that was your insides was going to be a challenge. Even so, he’d continue to guide you up and down on his shaft, letting that thick cock stretch open those wet folds.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take this dick…just like that..” Meanwhile, (y/n)’s mouth fell ajar, overstimulated by the sensation already. You’d paw at his chest, holding onto him as he maneuvered you to his liking. Using your body like that of a flesh light. “’s so good. Missed this big fucking dick.” Hearing those words elicited another chuckle from Ace, prompting him to cradle the back of your neck in a dominant manner, pulling you close. “Yeah? Your little boyfriend ever fuck you like this?” Questioning through clenched teeth as he continued guiding your lower half..

those soft insides wrapping around him with each stroke. You’d then feel the tight clutch of his hand on the back of your head, tugging at those freshly styled wefts coursing down your back..he was aware of the minute fortune you spent each month to upkeep your beauty. From the thousand dollar hair appointments, nail salon visits and waxes..even so, he didn’t give a damn! Turning his gorgeous girl into a sloppy slut was his favorite pastime. A toothy grin on his face, watching your swollen tits bounce and drool seep from the corners of your mouth, along with the loud moans following suit.

“..I’ll take that as a no. You’re squeezing me like you haven’t come in ages, babe.” Those taunts harbored more truth than you’d care to admit. As shameful as it was to be cheating, you’d never be happy with someone who couldn’t give you a nut! Hypocritical as it was abhorrent, you too would never be satisfied until you got what you desired. And that desire was the guy slamming balls deep up inside of you at the moment. Pounding that sensitive little core..letting that fat mushroom tip split you open and begging for that sweet cunt to siphon him for every last drop of cum he had. “You’re fucking dripping..you must’ve needed this bad. Goddamn..” referring to the creamy release you had drizzling his cock. Making a mess of his lap. “Y—yeah..you’re the only one who can make me cream like this.” Cock drunk and giggling as he catapulted you up and down. The vehicle began to sway due to the heavy activity taking place and the windows also began to fog up as a result. That’s when you’d feel his palms colliding with your asscheeks, egging on your bouncing. It was in the midst of those heavy handed smacks that he’d begin pleading his remorse. Telling you how sorry he was for how he mistreated you. As cute as it was, you weren’t interested in any half assed apologies, but rather….

”…if you’re really sorry, you’ll nut in me. This is your pussy so act like it..” Uttering those words with a wide smile on your face whilst meeting his strokes with heavy bounces..nearly made Ace convulse. He loved when you spoke to him in such a domineering manner. You’d feel a sudden twitch inside of you and his hands guiding you as you slammed down on that cock. Your cheeks grazing the outer rim of the steering wheel..both of you so close to your peak that you’d claw into one another’s skin.

Covered in a sheen of sweat and saliva..begging the other to get you there and revealing all of your deepest confessions for one another..including the fact that he wanted you to be his forever and that you weren��t leaving this parking lot without him. You’d clearly chosen who you wanted to be with.

“…damn right it’s my pussy, princess. I don’t care who you bring home. You belong to me and I belong to you..no one else can come between that. Ever again.”

not to mention..you were begging for his cum yet again. You’d often divulge in the throes of pre-climatic bliss that you wanted to have his kid..be so full of his seed that there was no way you weren’t pregnant and Ace certainly had no objections to it. Maybe it was the sensation of being cream pied or the fact that you really wanted a family with him. Either way, he constantly fantasized about seeing you full with his seed; how adorable you’d look with a bump and he just couldn’t maintain his composure.

“Yes..please come in me. Want your baby—“ having to laugh again at how cute and pathetic you were becoming. But alas, there was no room for shame right now. You’d plead with your last breath to feel that womb stuffed again.

“That right, gorgeous? Does my pretty girl want me to get her pregnant?..” “Yes, nut in this fucking pussy, daddy. Please!” certainly a far cry from the headstrong woman who was yelling at him before. Now, you were reduced to a desperate little cumslut, pleading to be bred. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long. After experiencing your second orgasm in close succession, Ace would pin you down and force his cock up into you, going as fast as he could muster. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna take every drop. You’re going to have my baby and I’m going to take such good care of you both. Gonna marry you—be a better man this time around..” That soft flesh ricocheting as a result..loud grunts and curse words filling the car as he prepared to do the same to you.

“M fucking coming, babe! Hold still—shit!—“ in that moment, that orgasm would rip through his body and just as you requested, all of his warm seed coursed through your insides and didn’t stop for a solid two minutes..having not had a proper orgasm since you guys split up. He was still twitching inside of you, holding you to his chest as you both cried from how amazing it felt. Tears on both of your faces as a result of ecstasy.

“Damn, I guess I wasn’t the only one who needed that.” Teasing him amidst your cute giggles. Leaning up, (y/n) kissed the tip of his nose and caressed his cheek..unable to believe that you were here with him again. He’d gently stroke the side of your face as well..glaring at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you, (y/n)..so much. I never thought I’d get the chance to tell you that again. Feels so good.” And you shared his sentiment. He was the only one it ever felt genuine from and damn sure, the only guy you meant it to. Any guilt or shame had long since absolved and you knew this was exactly where you should’ve been. ”I love you too, Ace. I’m so glad you showed up.” It was going to be a long day, as you had some explaining to do. But for now..

“Shit..he’s calling me.”

“Ignore it..let me hold you a little bit longer, okay?”

you wanted to remain in this moment for as long as possible. After all, this is where you were happiest and there was no one who’d give you the high that he could.

[rewind-redux]

New Experiments - Harley Sawyer/Reader

The halls were dark and reeked of coppery blood, the scents of metal, toys, and blood blending into a suffocating fog. What few papers explaining what had happened in this hell were crumpled in your bag, along with the occasional VHS tape that you managed to find. You were on your way to confront The Doctor, the monster you've read about behind the experiments, now an experiment himself. His voice rang in your head, that rough metallic tone echoing the last words he'd said to you before you’d continued on.

"An intriguing specimen, with no obvious reason to come down into the pits of playtime co." You glanced at the TVs lining the walls, the box frames enclosing the already small hallway, making you feel much more... fragile. God knows what you'll find when you get to the man behind the torture. If he's even a man anymore.

"Even the ground beneath your feet..." The Doctor's voice sang out from behind you, roughly pushing you to the trapdoor. You grabbed his hand at the last second, taking him down with you. Or.. what sounded like him.

Your eyes adjust to the dim room, being met with a robotic body covered in a torn shawl, and a TV for a head that flickered with different images and videos. You pushed yourself back against a fence, the metal rattling loudly in the silence.

"...Harley Sawyer?" Your voice was a bit shakier than you would have liked, but at least the words came out.

The machine's head tilted slightly, as if examining you. "How... interesting. I've seen how you understand that the price of progress is insignificant. I watched you snuff out that little life for the sake of reaching me. You dragged me down into my own trap. And yet, now that you've reached your goal... you don’t seize it. Are the lies finally wearing off? Have you come to your senses about that doll?" He stayed where he was, not moving towards you like one would wait for a puppy to come to them so as to not scare them off.

You inhaled deeply, trying to regain your senses, the stress of being in Playtime Co exhausting you now that you were no longer under immediate threat. ...You didn't even feel like this in safe haven.

"It's a mystery how Playtime managed to ignore such an intriguing mind, such a.. promising one. You understand how things work. How to succeed. You would have made for a stimulating experiment." You looked up at him, the remorseless, ruthless doctor. The doctor that.. could actually do something, keep the burden off your shoulders, unlike the toys you've been carrying through this hell.

You sighed, leaning against the fence. "Why... why should I trust you?" You could feel your body trusting him, relaxing under his analytical gaze.

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have even made it this far into Playtime. 1170 would have made quick work of you."

‘Huggy Wuggy’. You thought to yourself. You've had so many close calls, almost dying every room you stepped in, and yet-

"And what an exceptional case you are, making it all the way to me. Even the most promising toys never made it very far, but you. You would have been the most successful, if only Playtime had recognized it." Your eyes trailed up his metallic body, his eye trained on you, filled with anger and... grief.

"But now it can't." You looked back up at his body as you said it, taking in what he'd become.

"Not anymore. Those.. fools decided to take away my achievements, my abilities. They gave up a vital asset because of their own ego, took over my experiments as if they were their own. They stole my experiments, my ideas, and confined me into this body." You could picture the scowl he would have if he had a face, the anger that would've been so easily seen.

You didn't really know what to say. What was there to say? This man, this... genius, broken down into an amalgamation of metal and dismembered flesh suspended indefinitely. You can't help but feel sympathy for him.

"But you," You glance up at him, his eye still locked onto your body. "You could've been my success. My magnum opus. You could have shown everyone that I was right." His metallic body stepped closer, the whirring of his mechanisms quiet. Soothing, even.

"You didn't deserve this." The words came out before you could process them, the tone… soft.

Sawyer paused, the TV screen flickering as if in thought. No one talked to him like that. He's never been spoken to as if he was a child. But.. you weren't wrong. He didn't deserve it, he knew that more than anyone. His voice became less rough. "No, but they were too scared of my creations, of what I could do. They were fools for thinking doing this would stop me. And now they're gone." The bitterness came back at the last sentence, his eye narrowing.

You stood, pulling yourself up using the chain link fence you had leaned against. He wasn't that tall anymore, and looked... human. Wires and metal and TV static, yet he was still the man you read about. He was still a man.

The silence dragged out, neither of you daring to speak and break it, seeming so fragile yet so needed. A break. That's what you both needed. 

Eventually, Sawyer spoke up, shaking off his feelings, his tone returning to the clinical one you knew. “What do you gain from coming back? Why come back at all?” 

You… couldn’t really answer that. Why did you come back? It’s not like you knew any of these toys personally. It’s not like you knew the directors at all. “...I’m not entirely sure, myself.”

He hummed, a bit disappointed. “And here I thought you came back with a reason I could dissect. No matter. What matters is you’re here now. And I get to have my stimulation, instead of waiting for those inadequate toys to wander where they’re not supposed to.” He stepped closer, examining you. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a body, much less done a vivisection.” 

You held your ground, not wanting to show that his words made you feel a bit queasy. His hand reached out, feeling your neck and pulse.

“110 beats per minute. You’re scared of this, aren’t you? Your blood pressure feels higher as well.” His hand clamped around your neck, tilting your head up so he could take a closer look at your face. “Your pupils are dilated, most likely from adrenaline and how dark it is. Your respiration rate is higher than average, but not that high. You’re trying to keep yourself calm. Box breathing, yes?” 

You swallowed, feeling vulnerable. He was pointing out everything about your emotional state and your body, nevermind the fact his hand could easily snap your neck in a flash. 

His hand was cold, the contrast ever so noticeable on your warm neck. “You would have made for a successful bigger body. Perhaps a Huggy Wuggy, or a CatNap. Perhaps a completely new toy. Your body would have been easy to change into it.” His hand glided down to your chest, pressing into it. “Strong bones. Maybe it would have been a pain for you to start the process, not that it matters.” 

Your breath hitched, blood rushing to your face as Sawyer pressed into your chest. Thank God it was dark.

“Ah. A reaction. Fear? Anger?” He pressed harder, your back now up against the chain link fence. You could feel the heat on your face, your ears burning as you took a breath. “You’re not going to answer? Do I have to pull the words out of you?” His fingertips dug into your skin, leaving red marks behind. 

A small noise slipped out of your throat, barely getting out before you took another shaky breath to calm yourself. 

“Maybe you won’t be immediately discarded after all. You have such stimulating reactions.” His hand dug in again, and this time you grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers from breaking your skin. 

“Stop-...” He surprisingly pulled away, giving you a moment to compose yourself. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

“It’s easy to get under your skin isn’t it? Just as easily as you slipped under mine?” The thought made you flush red, visible in the dim light. He pulled you closer again, examining your face. “Extremely easy. In more ways than one, I see.” His hand tightened on your throat, enough to feel it, but not enough to be painful. 

“Sawyer…” You couldn’t tell if what came out of your mouth was a groan of pain or pleasure, or maybe a mix of both. Your hands grasped at his shawl, weakly pulling at it. Gods, you felt so pathetic, but so… needy. It’d been so long since you’ve felt any positive emotions, so long since you’ve felt even remotely relaxed. Maybe Sawyer felt the same way, being trapped in that form, stressed about no direction to go, no purpose in existing other than to spite those who made him what he is now.

He gave a short chuckle, finding your position amusing. This was a game to him, a chance to find and create reactions to stimulate his clinical mind. His hand dropped to your waist, feeling around your skin in a detached, almost professional way, if you hadn’t known he was a sociopathic doctor. 

“Your body is much warmer than everything else down here. No wonder the toys find you so easily.” He pressed his hand into your stomach, eliciting a grunt from you. “Sensitive here? Not at all surprising, the human body is typically more sensitive around vulnerable places, such as your stomach or neck.” You could feel your body heating up, even warmer than before. You cursed softly under your breath, shifting a bit to get more comfortable.

“Where else?” He glanced up at your words, humming in thought. 

“Where else is the human body sensitive, or where else are you sensitive?” You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts to answer him. Your mind felt clouded in a haze of fear and need, thoughts coming by sluggishly.

“Where else am I?” You almost panted out the words, the air you were breathing in not feeling like it was enough.

“For that, I would have to test it. Feel every part of you, what makes you tick, what makes you grimace, and what makes you squirm.” You could hear the anticipation in his voice, the way he viewed you as a new toy to pick apart and analyze what was left behind afterwards. You glanced down at his metallic hand hovering over your neck, the joints almost shaking as he waited for your acceptance. It surprised you that he would even consider thinking about whether or not you accepted.

“I don’t think it’d be very comfortable to do that against a chain link fence.” He looked over your shoulder at the fence, tilting his head.

“I don’t need comfort in this body, the surroundings are trivial.” You sighed. Right, self absorbed mad scientist. 

“I do. I’m still a human, remember? My body isn’t as forgiving with rough surfaces as yours is.” He thought about it for a second, watching you.

“You won’t find a… comfortable place in Playtime. It wasn’t built for your comfort.” You huffed, but shook the annoyance off. He was right in a way, it wasn’t exactly the most inviting place to be at. 

’Ironic.’ Before your thought could continue, his hand pulled you out to a better lit place. You couldn’t control the way your hand immediately grasped onto his, the urge to intertwine your fingers with his coming to the forefront of your mind. He let go as you reached the room where his brain was contained, looming over you like an omniscient being. Well, not that he wasn’t, in his own way.

“Now, get on the table and I’ll start.” You climbed up, laying on your back, the metal cool and hard beneath you.

“Why’d you choose here?” He stood over you, hands poised. He paused when you asked that, humming to himself in thought.

“It works the same as any other nervous system. The closer you are to the brain, the more sensations are felt. The more they can be analyzed and dissected.” You inhaled, relaxing on the table as the soft red glow of the machine reflected off Sawyer’s mechanical body.

His hand started by moving across your face, examining the way it looked and twitched. It went to your hair, feeling the strands. 

“A lot different than the toys you’re used to, huh?” He looked down at your eyes as you whispered that, as if part of you didn't want him to hear your words.

“Yes, the toys… their fur is more like plastic, some have a combination. But they're all more… animal like than human. The same can be said for their… cognitive functions.” His hand went to your ear, tracing around the outside with a surprisingly delicate touch.

“You’ve got a… delicate hand for a…” You faltered. For a machine? For a sociopathic insane mad doctor? 

“I wasn’t a surgeon for no reason. How do you think my experiments always came out so well? How they were perfect? The… cognitive side of those experiments is on the other doctors. They let their pathetic emotions get in the way of progress. See how my creations turned out? 1170, 1222, 1188, 1166? Loyal to only me, how they were supposed to be. I did what the others couldn't stomach. Emotions meant more to them than progress.” His hand gripped your throat, his anger being taken out on you.

“Saw-” You could barely choke out his name, his hand tight. He glanced down and eased his grip.

“Apologies. Wouldn't want my new… test to fall short, now would we?” His thumb rubbed your neck, the cold metal warming up from the contact with your skin. A groan escaped from your lips, Sawyer pressing gently on your throat to feel the vibrations. 

His hand slowly made its way to your collarbone, where he flicked the collar of your shirt. “Clothes… always in the way.” He briskly unbuttoned your shirt and pulled you to a sitting position. “If you could not be a limp body that would be useful.” He pulled the shirt off, and you moved your arms to help this time. The air was slightly cold against your skin, goosebumps raising on your arms. “How… fragile. You can't even weather the air of a factory. That needs to be fixed.” He traced your chest and arms, rubbing a circle around your nipple. “No evolutionary purpose for men to keep these… you'd think for how complex biology is, it would try to be better.” The cool metal of his thumb circled around your nipple, sending heat straight to your face.

His hand moved again, tracing your stomach where your organs sat. “I keep the digestive system in the toys, it makes for a more… challenging procedure. And it makes them hungry, which in turn keeps them loyal to their feeder. The rest of the systems have no use in the toys, other than the nervous system.”

“And you don't have any systems.” He glanced up, slightly surprised at your comment.

“...No. I have lungs, a heart, and a brain. I do commend the efficiency of it, since there's no need for food or air. It makes me practically immortal, almost perfect. The way it was done though…” He trailed off, his hand twitching. 

“...I'm sorry for what happened. It.. sounds terrible to go through.” You didn't really know what else to say, this wasn't exactly a common occurrence. 

“I don't need nor want your pity,” His hand gripped your waist, pulling you forward to him. “You shouldn't be saying anything about what happened to me, unless you caused it. And if you’d caused it, you would be in a much worse state than what any of Playtime Co is in.” His eye stared into yours, seething with rage and grief of what had been taken from him.

He quickly collected himself, going back to the analytical side you'd known him to be. His hand stopped at your pant line with a scoff. A chuckle came out of your mouth as you reached down to help. 

“Never taken someone's pants off before?” You watched his screen as it flickered static for a moment. 

“Yes, I have. All bodies need to be completely naked when it comes to vivisections and turning them into toys.” He helped roughly, clearly not used to his patients being awake when it came to undressing them.

“Didn't mean it like that, Doctor.” He glanced up at you.

“Be clear about what you mean. None of this guessing nonsense, you're wasting my time.” He tossed your pants to the side, then pulled down your underwear in a clinical, detached manner.

“Fine. I'm assuming you've never taken someone's pants off for sex before.” He paused at that, placing the underwear with your pile of discarded clothes.

“No, I have not. I have much better things to do than get in relationships and mess around like a high school boy.” You chuckled, the statement sounding odd coming from Sawyer. He glared at you, then dipped his hand lower, tracing your thighs. His thumb gently brushed against your inner thigh, where your artery lay. 

The realization that Sawyer could kill you within seconds resurfaced from the haze of your mind. You were sitting naked on a table, with a mechanical body of an insane doctor looming above you. His hand poised over your artery, able to strike in moments if he wanted.

As he continued his exam, you realized he was too engrossed in the “test” as he'd called it, to even think of killing you. You could see the concentration in his eye, it flicking up and down, taking in every part of you. His hands moved to your calves, then back up as he mapped out your blood vessels in his head. 

Your breathing was heavier, your heart rate fast. As his hand reached between your legs, your leg jerked, trying to close them. Sawyer said nothing, but used his other hand to push your legs apart and keep them that way. He slowly, agonizingly traced around your privates, his fingertips freezing against it. You couldn't help the twitch of your hips as he almost reached it, the flush in your face darkening. The hand holding your legs moved to hold down your hips, his screen flickering as he watched your reactions.

“I can see you're getting impatient, with your… uncontrolled movements. Perhaps we should control them, no?” Both of his hands pinned down your hips before you could respond, the metal digging into your skin. Your hips reacted, instinctively bucking against his hold. He watched and pressed down harder, drawing another reaction and a small noise from you.

You could see in his eye as something clicked. Humanity was so close for him, however disgusting it was. The feeling that he could be human again, if only in his head. This… emotion he was pulling out of you, this pleasure... this was the first time in years that he felt even remotely close to his old self. To being human. And he craved it, the ability to move around, experiment, to be his old self. He needed it.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as he pushed a finger in, not giving you any time to adjust to the new sensations before he started stretching you. He clearly knew what he was doing, but in a studied clinical manner, as if following instructions from a book. His eye was trained on where you two met, watching your body's reactions to the intrusion. He hated it. But it was all he had left to feel human, this disgusting pointless act. He slowly added another finger, the metal cold and desperate as it thrusted in and out. A low groan escaped your lips, sawyers eye quickly looking up to see your face, your expressions. 

His hand clamped harder on your mouth, muffling the noises you made. He added a third, the stretch painful due to the lack of preparation he’d given you.

“Harley- ngh.. fuck.. slow down..” He glanced back up at your face, his emotions unreadable. It was unsettling, how silent he was, but you supposed it was his clinical side taking over, logging each and every reaction you made. He barely slowed down, just enough for you to stop complaining. His metal fingers curled in different ways, prodding and testing to see if you’d react to it. He was rewarded with grunts and groans that slipped from your mouth, muffled from the hand pressing into it.

He spoke up, his tone back to normal, talking more to himself than to you. “How submissive you’ve become… expected, really. All you need is the right treatment, which would be more successful with locking you up in those padded rooms. How do you think I was able to create and control all of those toys so easily? Though I do prefer a… faster approach, such as isolation and torture. Something like this… It would take quite a long time for the patient to become fully submissive, and for all of the wrong reasons too. The patient would become a pet, not an asset. Completely worthless.” He continued with the movements as he talked, not making any move to slow down or pull away. 

You could feel yourself getting closer to release, your mind in a pleasurable haze as you closed your eyes. He noticed and slowed down, dragging the pleasure out more. A low whine escaped your mouth, almost turning into a moan. Your hips bucked forward, searching for more friction, to finally climax. He moved his hand from your mouth and pushed your hips down, thrusting his fingers hard into you, curling them inside. You could barely even choke out a noise, the abruptness too intense to react to. He continued at a rough and fast pace, eventually adding a fourth finger, stretching your already sore hole even further. You couldn’t help but grind into it, the feeling desperately needed after such a long time of pent up stress. 

He watched your reaction as you climaxed, the flush that enveloped your face, the sweat that glistened on your forehead, the shakiness in your legs and arms, the rapid rise and fall of your chest from your panting breaths. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, making you ride it out, adding to the sensations he was causing you. He logged every reaction and every simple movement as you laid back limply on the table. 

“It seems I was right. Yet again. What an interesting specimen you are. But.. don’t think I’m done with you yet. There’s still plenty more to test. After all, I haven’t seen anything like you in years. It’s only fitting I keep you for my own… enjoyment, if you will.” He pulled his hands away, wiping them off on his shawl. “Now get dressed. I’m getting awfully tired of looking at you being so… pathetic. It’s disgusting.” He didn’t even bother to toss you your clothes, instead just standing there watching you as you struggled on shaky legs to stand on your own two feet. You eventually managed to pull on your clothes, your shaky hands barely able to button your shirt. You were still breathing heavily, taking large breaths to calm your racing heart. 

He started walking away, expecting you to follow, and follow you did. “Now… what to make of you…? I’m sure the Prototype would… love to get his filthy hands on you, but… let’s keep my secret for now, yes? He may control the board, but that doesn’t mean he controls the pieces, only the rules. And there’s nothing against… holding out on a potential subject for him. As long as you eventually end up in his grasp, I’m keeping you for my own scientific purposes for now. He never gave a time limit either, so that means you’ll be mine indefinitely, until I tire of your presence.” He paused in thought, stopping in his tracks.

“Unless…” You felt goosebumps raise on your arms. You didn’t like the tone of his voice, the way he stopped as if realizing something exceedingly substantial. “I could do what no one else could, with you. I could finally make a scientific breakthrough that no one could ignore. The other heads would be shamed and put in their place, after stealing my work and humiliating me like that.” He turned around, facing you. “...And all I’d need is you.”

[padf-0-ot]

Could you do the back muscles ficlet with Jade and Floyd please

You try to convince them to do the “Do you even have back muscles?” trend in Magicam (with Jade and Floyd Leech) but differently?

note. do you mean together or alone? 😞 i was rather skeptical eith this. i hope you like it!

You were scrolling through MagiCam when a particular trend caught your eye. It was a simple yet devastatingly effective challenge — someone would record their boyfriend pulling off their shirt or jacket, revealing their back muscles, and the comments would immediately go feral.

You would too for them, but we won’t speak of that. And of course, your mind went straight to them.

Would they agree to it? Would they even care about the challenge? Honestly, you had no idea. But that didn’t stop you from trying.

So, you asked.

The water in Octavinelle’s private bathhouse is quiet. It ripples in gentle waves, reflecting the dim, ambient glow of bioluminescent lanterns lining the stone walls. You shouldn’t be here, at least, not at this hour. Not when the Leech twins are lounging so carelessly, so at home in their element.

But you made a mistake.

You looked.

Not just a glance, not just a flicker of curiosity. You stared.

The realization hits you only when you see the sharp glint in Jade’s eye, the slow, creeping amusement curling at the edges of his lips as he adjusts the cuffs of his sleeves. Across from him, Floyd, in all his lanky, half-draped laziness, grins like he’s caught a little fish in his net.

“Ehh~? What’s wrong, Shrimpy?” His voice lilts with mock innocence as he stretches, rolling his shoulders. The motion is effortless, but beneath the pale light, the shift in his muscles is unmistakable. “Got something interesting to look at?”

You jerk your gaze away, heat rushing to your face. “I wasn’t—”

“Wasn’t what?” Floyd’s eyes are alight with mischief as he suddenly leans forward, elbows propped on the bath’s stone edge. His long fingers drum against the surface, as if he’s waiting for you to crack. “You totally were staring~”

Jade hums, tilting his head ever so slightly. “It’s understandable.” His voice is smooth, calm, as if he’s analyzing you through a microscope. “Bodies shaped by the sea are rather… unique. Land-dwellers wouldn’t be accustomed to such differences.”

You hate how composed he sounds, how he speaks with such calculated amusement while Floyd sprawls, his back exposed to the water, rolling his shoulders like a lazy predator stretching its limbs.

You want to argue. Tell them both they’re imagining things, that it was nothing but then Floyd moves, and your train of thought is gone.

The way his back tenses, how every muscle ripples beneath his damp skin, it’s like watching a wave crash against jagged rocks, power and motion intertwined so seamlessly. His shoulders are broad, his spine dips just slightly at the curve of his lower back before leading to where he’s propped up against the edge of the bath.

And then, without warning, he turns to you. “Ne, ne~ You wanna feel?”

You freeze. “What?”

Floyd doesn’t wait for an answer. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward with ease, pressing your palm flat against his shoulder blade.

Warm. Firm. Alive. Buff.

Your fingers twitch slightly, and Floyd takes that as permission to move. He shifts beneath your touch, rolling his shoulders again, letting you feel the way his body works. Strength beneath the surface, raw and untamed. “Cool, right?” he muses, voice playful but just slightly lower, closer.

You swallow, the heat in your face spreading down your neck. “That’s—uh—”

“You should compare,” Jade’s voice cuts in smoothly, a contrast to Floyd’s easy teasing. When you glance at him, he’s already undone the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up with slow, precise movements before slipping off his coat. “Floyd tends to be more… haphazard with his strength. Mine is a bit more refined.”

You barely have time to process what’s happening before Jade turns his back to you, standing with the same effortless grace he carries in all things. His movements are slower, measured, almost like he’s offering something; an invitation.

“Go on,” he says, tilting his head ever so slightly, the flicker of challenge barely concealed in his voice.

And you do.

Because how could you not?

Your palm presses against Jade’s back, fingers barely grazing his skin. It’s different from Floyd’s. Cooler, controlled. Where Floyd is wild energy, a force barely contained, Jade is sharpness. His muscles are lean, honed by precision rather than brute strength. When he shifts, it’s not careless.

Floyd pouts dramatically from behind you. “Boooooring~ Bet Shrimpy likes mine better.”

Jade chuckles, low and knowing. “That depends.”

Their eyes are both on you again, waiting, watching. Two eels, two predators, coiled and amused, letting you think you had the upper hand when in reality, you were always, always the prey.

[soleilapproves]

Boxer!Sukuna often thinks about what his future would’ve looked like if he didn’t pick his career over you. (inspired by Sienna by The Marías) afab!reader

The idea of what could’ve been keeps burning in his mind. It’s been burning for years, ever since that day he left you behind with your eyes filled tears and heart torn in two.

But he had to move forward. He fell in love with the sport before he fell in love with you.

It was all too late to go back and contemplate over the decision again. Uraume had already popped the good champagne and his friends were busy dancing and boisterously laughing inside his penthouse, celebrating the biggest win of his career. All while the champion was standing in the empty balcony, gazing at the glittering streets as the sun set.

His rise to fame was a treacherous yet rewarding journey. He was proud but he was also empty. Maybe if he had just stuck around and suffered a little longer with you then you would’ve been standing next to him today, clinking your flute with his, and laughing at his romantic and flirtatious remarks. He probably could’ve kissed you right after winning the fight and flaunted your ring to the world to announce his retirement after his final win.

Maybe you both would even have a little one being carried around in his brother’s arms for the night. A child too spoilt and adorable for their own good. Maybe they’d have your eyes. Or his—he doesn’t really care. Simply knowing that the child was a product of the love you both shared was enough to fill him with the happiness of multiple lifetimes.

Much to his chagrin, there was no veracity to his dream.

On the other side of the world, you stared at the rising sun as you thought about the past and the upcoming years of your life. How different they were. You came so far. Made so many developments.

Yet your heart still quickens when you remember your first great love—Sukuna Ryomen.

Like most love stories, it was a whirlwind of a romance. A passion felt like no other. It consumed you till you blindly believed that you were a part of his existence. His existence revolved around making you happy. He even said so, often kissing you like you were going to fade away.

But all good things must end.

You thought your life was going to stop when he bid his final goodbye. You slowly learned to get back up on your feet again, picking up the pieces that he broke.

Your heart was bandaged, and a little guarded, but you still welcomed love for you were full of it and had so much to give. A pattern you were willing to repeat.

The diamond on your finger sparkles when the sunlight hits it, bringing your gaze down to where your hand was resting on the window pane.

You often felt guilty when your fiancé talked about children with an enthusiastic hilt in his voice. While he’d revel on about how he’ll spoil the child, you were busy concealing your true thoughts.

Thoughts that made you feel horribly guilty.

What would’ve happened if you had just fought for Sukuna’s love a little harder, latched on to his legs as your scabby knees dragged across the ground when he walked?

Maybe you’d already have a child in your arms. Your heart often swells whenever you ponder over an imaginary child with Sukuna’s temper. Tiny lips forming a pout with the most expressive eyes ever.

Lately that child has been living in your mind more often than not, making you long for them with their haunting laugh and toothless smiles.

But you know you’ll never see them. Or him for that matter. You’ve put that part of reality away in a box and shoved it deep in the back of your mind so you’ll never forget it.

And so you can be fair to your fiancé who loves you more than you know.

The only thing that gives you solace is the possible existence of alternate universes—different microcosms of the life you could’ve shared with Sukuna Ryomen had he not given you up like you were a fickle thought.

—

I know I said I wanted to get out of the boxer!sukuna bubble but I was having major writer’s block with my sentient game character ghost fic and this drabble just pulled me out of it 👍

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

i think it's also a problem in university arts departments too, in a way. for example, while i was in undergrad, my home uni's philosophy department refused to ever assign presentations (as well as group work) as an adequate form of assessment. this however, imo, gave plenty of students, including myself, excuses to just straight up refuse to do their readings bc "it's only marked as part of my 5% or 10% participation grade.... so what's even the point of reading sindquist, anderson and zazo "the examination of the twin earth problem from the systems analysis standpoint" (not a real paper) or whatever the fuck in the philosophy of mind, for example. "i can just pretend i've done the reading and scab answers off everyone else in the tute, if we have minor unmarked group work".

this bred a student base of mostly uninterested, disengaged, confused students (and some bitter legal and journalism etc/media & comms students who found philosophy to be "a waste of time" bc "i can already argue!!!! bc im going to be a lawyer and/or journalist!" and "i was also in debate/parliamentary/school newsletter team at school!!!!" and also..... HOW and WHY are you doing journalism etc/media and comms or law if you don't ACTUALLY CARE about the fundamentals of argumentation, rhetoric/discourse (which you'll be creating with your so-called "think pieces" in journalism and media!!!), logic and language??? are you fucking stupid??? [tbf they were teenagers. of course they were going to say dumb shit]). i was one of the above philosophy students, obvs. because how the fuck are you meant to communicate these ideas to people when you're NOT doing the readings??

when you're not FORCED to do the readings, for a presentation or, y'know just the essays, you just make excuses not to do them. tbf. like yes, i could do the 2,500 word essays and 500 word essay plans just fine. but when it came to engaging with the readings, i couldn't get past more than the second page of every 50 page reading. but if i was given a presentation to do??? bruh, i probably would have forced myself to do at least 10 to 20 pages of all of the readings??? i DON'T want to look like a fuckwit in front of the 25 to 30 people in my tute time class. but just giving me essay upon essay upon essay??? and the occasional open book exam/take home exam? you're giving me an excuse to just coast by on the bare minimum and then force out an essay 8 hours before it's due, in the hope i'll get at least a credit/65% to 70%, minimum grade.

you're giving everyone the horribly stereotypical impression that the philosophy students are just locking themselves in their bedrooms (their classic ivory towers) to do their essays and nothing else. that they don't know how to communicate complicated, esoteric ideas to the layman through a presentation..... and then, very suddenly, and ironically, you expect grad students to be happy to present to a crowd their dissertation??? or just to their thesis/dissertation advisor every week??? what the fuck??? HOW does that make ANY sense??? how does that give anyone in this study stream CONFIDENCE to present???? the confidence to have the literacy to present their cogent arguments, when in undergrad they weren't deliberately given presentations in this field to practice these skills??? "oh but they'll have them in english. or sociology. or cultural studies.... so why do we need them at all?" to be fair, for me, i had to address this after an anxiety attack before a presentation in ancient history. i went to toastmasters. and lo and behold, i did meet the occasional philosophy postgrad person there. because they were far too nervous to present each week to their thesis advisor. after 3 years of NO presentations in their philosophy undergrad (and possibly their WHOLE degree). we also got plenty of engineering honours people too, right before their thesis presentations. because a similar thing happened in their field, apparently.

okay yes, i had good literacy skills in general in school and in uni, in my actual major, english. i learnt the hard way with exams and inclass tests to DO the readings, or at least do a really good study jamming session at least 2 days before sitting modernists and having to write an essay for james joyce's portrayal of himself in "a portrait of an artist as a young man" (i FUCKING HATE this book. fuck james joyce all the way to hell) , a book i couldn't read past page 10. but my god. the literacy skills in philosophy classes were ABYSMAL. mostly because everyone refused to do their readings and refused to even grasp the topics we were doing. and tbf, probably on this post, my comprehension is in hell. because due to the devaluation of arts in society, i don't engage in textual analysis or read as much dickens or bronte or dickinson, etc, as i should these days. which is what i think is wrong with engineering or science majors (and other high earning degrees) having low literacy skills.... and moreover, the overall bs discourse on YT of "ONLY do degrees that GENERATE MONEY! don't you DARE go into the arts when you KNOW you will NEVER pay it back! who needs reading comprehension and literacy, when they don't PAY THE BILLS AND STUDENT LOANS BAYBAY!?"

all in all, yes. in the end the philosophy dept did introduce marked presentations AND group work (yes philosophy did NO group work the whole time i was in uni), right as i was graduating in 2018. because. of course they did. and yes, a lot of is down to the a student's drive and interests in the subjects they choose. and how they interact with their readings and classmates. but also, i think it can rest on department teaching and assessment tactics as well. certain departments NEED to have presentations in their curricula because HOW FUCKING ELSE are students going to develop the necessary communication and comprehension skills to present or just normally talk to people about their course content??? if the whole general vibe from the student base is "oh we NEVER do the readings!"

i also feel this is an issue with the media and comms dept at my home uni, deliberately cutting off their old cross department majors/minors within the arts department option that was there when i began in that degree. so now if you want to do an english major with your media and comms degree, you're actually now FORCED to do a double degree.... and most esp if you're in the marketing comms and advertising major that i originally chose, you HAVE to do a major or minor within the degree stream ONLY. like i get on some level that it's to do with cross media skills and employability skills. and that in the last 10 years (wow what the FUCK) since i started uni, digital media skills and study IS its own field. but also. but also, what about the broader social context brought from a history major or sociology major or an english double major??? WHY does it HAVE to be a double degree???

ANYWAY. that's my rant. and probably, my reading literacy and comprehension on this post was poor. so piss on me (or don't)- is that what fall out boy said all those years ago???

I cannot stress the importance of paying attention in language classes in high school. Maybe the reason why your English teacher taught you about unreliable narrators is because a lot of the media around you is written by unreliable narrators posing as reliable. Maybe they gave you assignments on interpreting texts so you could draw your own conclusions about news articles. Some of you clearly thought English classes were useless in high school and now are unable to engage critically with media.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Poppy Playtime: True Ending (all toys saved, all secrets founds)

Synopsis: Angel saved all the toys inside PlayCo, and is now sitting outside waiting for the authorities to appear. What will happen now? Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Story is in 2nd person but Angel is their own character here. THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD SO THERE WILL BE ERRORS. Have fun, byeee.

You are shaking.

Granted, this is the first time in the last two weeks that you aren't trembling due to fear of being killed or due to the cold, but anxiety. You're scared, still riding off adrenaline and without any idea of what could happen now, and you are certain that in any moment, you'll end up dropping unconscious on the floor. And yet, you don't. You cannot, really, considering your situation.

You take a deep breath, the smell of smoke filling your senses. Despite your best efforts, your hands are still dirty with dried blood.

Dogday lies against you, eyes turned towards the Sun. His white pupils seem to be sparkling in amazement; this is the first time in more than a decade that he has seen the Sun. Maybe two, who knows, you're too tired to do the math. You scratch his head, but he doesn't look away from the sky. The beautiful open sky. You had taken it for granted a few times in your life. Only a few. Never again. Never again...

Kissy is on your right side, anxiously holding your arm. Poppy is on your lap, still holding your Nokia phone and telling the kind 911 operator of your situation. You wonder how anxious she would be feeling if you were the one talking there... She was at the verge of tears before speaking up. "Understood, miss", she tells the second normal human she ever interacted with in the past decade. "Please warn them to be careful, we went through a lot and don't want to deal with even more".

You scratch her head. Huggy is next to your rundown car, on the other side of the parking lot, the mini critters and wuggies running around. Some of them grab the leaves and jump at the newfound texture. Others try digging in the dirt. One of them points at the car and ask each other how they can disassemble it. Catnap, standing right next to them, shakes his head. "This belongs to our Savior".

Baba is also sitting next to you. She watches over the mini nightmares debating over something you don't fully understand, as some of them climb over Catnap. He doesn't mind the act. Doey, on the other hand...

You stare at him. Little Simon is still sleeping on his arms, too anxious to join the others. Doey adjusts his own hat, his eyes going from corner to corner, especially towards where the little ones of Safe Haven are. Marie is taking good care of them, sitting on the concrete floor as they analyze flowers. Delight is next to her, tilting her head in curiosity as a centipede crawls over her hands, eyes sparkling. "This is fascinating!", she announces, happily stimming with her feet.

"... Doey?"

You reach your hand to him. He flinches before blinking, taken out of his trance. Upon noticing your worried stare, he forces a smile on his face: "I'm okay, Angel, no need to worry about me".

"And what about the other two?", you ask again, not letting go of him.

He's once again caught off-guard. You thought that by this point, the three kids would have gotten used to being equally acknowledged. Guess there's still work to be done, but we'll be alright. We have time, now. Just enough time.

"We're fine", Kevin grunts, looking away.

"Just tell me when it's too much, alright, kiddos? Don't want the sirens to scare you guys. They sound similar to the stuff back at PlayCo."

"I said we're fine", and there goes that familiar growl. "Shoosh, leave them".

"Matthew, let Kevin speak. It's okay for him to be upset".

"We can't scare the others"

"The others would like for all three of you to speak a bit", you reply, shaking your head. "Including Jack. Is he alright?"

"...", Doey shakes, before timidly nodding and fidgeting with his hands. "... I am".

You give him a smile. Dogday bumps his head against his shoulder, and Jack relaxes, his tense body softening. He repeats the gesture towards the critter, confirming that he'll be alright.

Pianosaurus and Yarnaby then bump their heads against your legs, both of them with plants hanging out from their mouths. Poppy jumps on your lap: "Thank you for the... Bouquet", you tell them, accepting the offering. Yarnaby purrs as a response, sitting on the ground. "Ollie, ya okay, kid?"

The baby long legs stares at you with that very, very energetic look of his, wrapped around a blanket and shaking in his lone seat next to yours. "It's fucking cold", he growls, grumpy as ever.

"Language!", Dogday warns him.

"We're not inside PlayCo. anymore, we can say whatever we want now, you dingus".

"Please don't have another argument before we arrive at the hospital", you ask the duo, sighing again. "... Want another blanket, Ollie?"

"I want a warm room away from this cold, that's what I want".

"Wait an hour or two, then".

"Urgh".

"You welcome".

You close your eyes, feeling the Sun against your skin. The Prototype's words echo in your head, the promise you two made still there:

These kids shall be safe and happy.

You can still hear the mechanical sounds his legs made when he walked. A part of you swears that it can feel him watching over your bunch from inside the factory, despite the cameras outside not being functional anymore. You don't doubt he would be capable of finding a way to watch the scene, though.

You stare at the burning parts of the factory in the background, and, before you can start doubting if this will grab the authorities' attention, you hear sirens in the background.

Cop sirens, to be exact.

Poppy looks up to you, Doey jumps on his seat, and you put the doll on Kissy's lap before jumping over Yarnaby:

"KIDS!", you call the others. "EVERYBODY, GET BACK THERE, THEY'RE COMING!"

Just one word:

FUCK.

Why did it have to be the COPS the first people to pop up, and not a fucking ambulance?! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Just. Shit. FUCK (again). You are so, SO fucking lucky sometimes, urgh. Let's hope they don't scare the kids even more.

Huggy, Catnap, Marie and Doey help you retrieve the chaos gremlins back to the group. You count: All +100 of them are there, with no exceptions. You hold Doey's face and tell him to remain strong, you tell Kissy and Huggy that they have nothing to fear with you around, you assure Marie and Catnap don't make a murder plan, and you sit back on your seat.

The first car that appears makes your stomach curl. You stare at it, unmoving. The tension is palpable. The kids are anxious, terrified and horrified when the two cops get out of the car and turn to you.

You stare at them, suddenly more aware than ever that you have visible blood stains on your clothes and you must be looking like hell, and they stare at you in silence, approaching with their mean looks. Poppy moves on your seat, clinging to you even more, her call having just ended.

You stare at the cops again.

The cops stare at you again.

You bite your tongue. They aren't approaching you anymore, instead, stopping several meters away from your group, wide-eyed, and then you realize that they aren't reaching for their guns.

Finally, you roll your eyes:

"Do we have a problem here, officer?"

The guy you think is the oldest of the duo, a pale man with sunken brown eyes, seems taken completely off-guard for a moment. Bunzo clings to your leg, anxious. PJ Pug-a-Pillar tilts his head in curiosity, and you notice that Delight is waving at the duo.

"W...", the younger man's voice fails him. "What the-"

"Don't ya finish that sentence, there's kids there", you grunt, noticing the other cars appearing. "We need as many ambulances as possible, now. The kids needs medical attention".

"What happened there?", the officer demands, and his eyes go to the very much still burning piece of factory. You glance back at it for a moment before returning your attention to him.

"Executives", you shrug, aaaand more people pop out of the cars. "Tell your friends to back off, it's been a decade since these kids saw other people, and they bite".

"This is private property. What are you doing here?"

Private property, private property my fucking ass- "get your friends to back off, or else I won't say shit to you".

"You have no right-"

"Mister Officer, please, you must listen!"

You would have laughed at the guy's face upon seeing Poppy getting up from your seat. Catnap growls as a response to his voice tone, and you don't know if it's the sound he makes or his movements, but it seems convincing enough for the asshole to actually back off, and actually and properly inform the rest of the group to not approach.

"Thank you", Poppy mutters.

"Don't thank him", you scratch her head. "I am in private property because the owner of this frickin' place invited me in because he and these kids were stuck in there for the past decade. I need a dang ambulance for once".

"And who is the owner?"

You almost say Elliot Ludwig, but even your own tolerance for absurdity isn't high enough to buy that one. So you bite your tongue, you stay on your seat, and you hear more sirens echoing in the background.

"Long ass story", you mutter, before getting up, bag on one hand, Poppy in another.

You have no idea how or why, but the officer almost doesn't react when you approach him. His friend places a hand on his gun, but you don't react either, merely giving him the heavy bag.

"These are the documents", you tell him, watching the ambulances arrive.

"Did you steal these documents?"

"They were given to me", you half-lie, half-tell the truth.

"I'll have to ask you to follow me, ma'am, and tell me why there's a fire happening in an abandoned factory".

"W-wait, no!", Poppy desperately stares at you, wide-eyed. "T-they can't go, we need them!"

You merely unzip your jacket, exposing your very much still bleeding out shoulder and your very much still soaked in blood torso, and shrug.

You see people coming out of the ambulances. Bunzo runs to you, grabbing your leg as he stares at the officer, wide-eyed. "I-I won't let you take mama away!"

Well, there goes the cop's control of the situation, because now some of the minis also approach you, clinging to both your legs and back, and you know they look too realistic and move too naturally for them to be animatronics or robots. Other cops start moving to approach you, and you...

Yawn.

Damn, you're tired as hell-

A guy presents himself as the lieutenant, and another as the deputy chief. You tilt your head. Looks like your way of grabbing attention may have worked too well...

Marie's hand grabs your good shoulder. You don't react to her staring at the group, merely waiting for your permission to probably kill them or something worse. Despite what you wish you can do, you merely hold her hand. The deputy chief grabs the bag, and stares at the nurses who just got out of the ambulance before petting the shoulders of the first officer.

"Looks like we got big fish in our hands", he tells the guy. Uhm. Okay. "Go take these things to the ambulance. Let us handle the rest".

You blink, remembering what the Prototype told you about many people knowing about what PlayCo. was doing, but never doing anything about it. You stare at the man's eyes, and you aren't very good with judging people by looks but your stomach curls around itself, and you know one damn thing.

He stares at you with a certain disdain and hatred in his eyes. You smile. You hear a helicopter approaching, alongside a van from a news report. Your smile widens, a shit eating grin that goes from ear to ear as you realize who has the power over the situation.

"Looks like the mess you ignored finally caught up to you, eh, officer?"

You turn your back to the group, unafraid. "W-what's going on, Angel?", Dogday asks on his seat, terrified, as you put Poppy on his lap.

"Oh, a lot", you now grab your actual backpack, reaching for your water bottle as the kids stare at you, anxious. "A whole, whooole lot".

"What are they going to do?", Marie asks in a whisper. "Should we...?"

"Nope. We aren't killing anyone, pirralhada", you take a generous sip of water. "We just hit the jackpot".

You hear the number of people growing in the background. Good thing you told the kids to keep themselves quiet, and even better thing that they are listening.

"We're going to take whatever remains of PlayCo. down. And, most importantly, we'll make sure the people who didn't help you guys pay. But, right now?"

You turn towards the humans again.

"Right now, we gotta go to the hospital".

[sunny-knight]

“Youve all been so strong, Pomni. And If you could get through this, you can do anything!”

IM GONNA WAIL AT A VERY SOCIALLY UNACCEPTABLE VOLUME!!!

I was rewatching episode 3 the other day and thought back to the idea that each episode has little bits of Caine in them and then I-

I might do this with other scenes in other episodes, making silly little pretend parallels

It was sm fun to make because its so hard to imagine canon Pomni being genuinely concerned about what will happen to Caine after they leave. I REALLY WANT HER TO BE, AND I HAVE HOPE THAT THEY’LL CONNECT IN SOME WAY BEFORE THE END!!! But since nothing like that has even been hinted at (yet…) i gotta rely on my own ideas (GROSS!)

Ive also been taking a lot from and generally being obsessed with Wall-E, since omg Caine is so Wall-E (a robot that is stuck doing what its been made for, but has also built a life for itself around that, despite its creators abandoning them long ago) (CAINE LITERALLY MAKES CHILL SPACES FOR HIMSELF SEEN IN THE PILOT, LIKE THIS MAN IS WEIRDLY SENTIENT BUT ALSO NOT AND ITS BOGGLING MY MIND)

So anywho I stole “It only takes a moment” and am planning on doing something with it, but this is the general vibe/idea I played with on Magma with my buddy @starrysquire

only valid reaction to that information

[attentialkane]

Late night post let's see what the algorithm does.

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Two weeks left to claim this month's patreon drop!!

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If I had a penny for every tragic character named Jean that's connected to horses thats in a media I've consumed I'd have two pennies, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

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This week I made 3 people start playing disco elysium and at this point I'm not even sorry.

ALSO I figured out how to make RCM patches so that I can be a proper nerd at the Sea Powers concert (I'm going to the Manchester date btw if anyone is too feel free to dm me! Brighton and London were already sold out so..)

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Cool things dropping for 500 followers, patreons already had access to them though sO if you want to be early and also snatch the feb drop link is in bio.

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I don't have much to say about this drawing I actually wanted to go for a completely different mood because I was listening to man of war on repeat but I couldn't put down the idea I had in mind for the life of me so have this instead.

BUT I switched back to ibis paint finally and I think you can tell, csp is good for effects and all but my god it's so clunky I hate it.

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[thegrinningghost]

Hey OP!! I saw your art this morning and it has been plaguing my mind ever since, so I figured I’d write a short story to go with your art. Also, have a moodboard based on it! I hope you don’t mind another reblog–I know you’ve already gotten so many, but I thought it’d be cool to write and share with you =D

Also, this AU is really cool, so props to you and your friends! It’s definitely made me have many ideas. Anywayy, on with the story!

  (some StarSky / SkyStar if you squint)

The storm had paused in its movements, snowflakes peacefully swaying in the slight breeze. The Arctic was known to be deafening; a place of isolation, and a home to very few. Still, it held the very same wonders of life. Perhaps even more. And, in some miraculous scheme, the young scientist managed to be stationed in the desolate land. Now, he wasn’t a real scientist at the moment, doing real science-y things, but science isn’t always about blowing something up, which he had noted many times to his friends on their daily calls. As of now, he was scouting the land, carrying his bag full of tools and his faithful sketchbook. It was in that raggedy thing, full of many torn pages and typos, that he wrote down his observations of the natural spectacles he saw on his daily outings. It had become a source of comfort when the frost seemed to bite too close to his heart, one that he constantly held close to him. It felt like home.

Speaking of home, only a sea away, a jet was flying dangerously low to the salty sea spray. Though it appeared like the pilot was testing their luck with fate, there was meticulous skill in their movements as they cruised across the frosty, open seas. Just moments prior had there been yelling, voices that still hung low from their ears. Still, they refused to let the weight bury them into the sea, though the prospect of drowning did sound especially intriguing. The slowly rising head of a whale urged the jet out of their thoughts, and to make room for the natural inhabitants of their newfound home. In a swift moment of spinning away from the aquatic beast, the jet slowed before launching far ahead, aiming for a desolate land frozen in time.

      The snowflakes had stopped their graceful dance through the sky, and so nature took its turn. The natural residents were always a sight to behold; fanciful creatures of many similarities and differences, not too far from those like the scientist. Though, they often had a better time fitting in.

      It was when the scientist was observing a particular lynx that had become a common spectacle over the past few days, that things began to go downhill. In fact, they were nearly launched down one when the snow sprayed in massive, collateral damage. Shielding himself with his arm, time seemed to freeze, and if possible, the temperature lowered even further as he slowly raised his head. Hunched down, with a massive sword steeped in the frosty ground, was a massive, mechanical creature. The menace had scared off the lynx, but that fact barely phased to scientist. This was something new, something yet to be seen. Someone. And he was curious. Something that would get someone killed.

      “You are . . . beautiful.” His words were hushed, mesmerized by the way that the being stood tall against the white-tinted sky. Despite his mumblings, the creature heard, and stared in startled awe. A small creature. And it spoke to him. So, in turn, he spoke back, voice nearly just as soft.

      “Thank you,” though it sounded more like a question.

      The young man smiled and laughed, though the wind stole all sound of it.

      “What’s your name?”

      “What?”

      “Your name! Like . . . what someone calls you. I’ll go first! My name is Sky, though my friends like to call me by my accidental nickname, Skyfire.” He rubbed his neck sheepishly, eager to speak, though not about how he just so happened to gain said nickname. “Now you.”

      The bot hummed, processing everything that has happened up till this point. How his flight for escapism had failed, how he met this creature, and how it just so willingly gave out its name to him. Like a personally address of where to find it. Though it was awfully strange, and its hand stuck out was quite the unappealing sight, the Seeker had no other clue of how to respond, and so sprung forth a simple answer.

      “You may call me Starscream. Now, tell me about your little home.”

      And in turn, Skyfire smiled. “Of course! But only if you tell me everything about you and where you come from in return!”

my friends and i made a selfindulgent little au where the autobots are humans and decepticons cybertronians so have human!skyfire meeting starscream (made him armada ver. cause i can)

[daycourtofficial]

The shadow man’s secrets

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | warnings: mentions of shackles and kidnapping

Summary: based on this request - the spymaster of the Night Court is harboring a secret and Nesta Archeron is determined to figure out what it is. What happens when she discovers the secret isn’t a what but rather a whom?

A/N: thank you to this request!! It’s late but this fic was so fun (wanted it done for Halloween but 🤡) Happy free day for @sjmromanceweek!

Something was going on with Azriel. The other members of the Inner Circle might not have noticed, but Nesta sure did. The shadowsinger always kept things close to his vest, his personal life a secret to his whole family. Nesta was certain he had an entire life they had no idea about. 

But something had happened recently and Nesta couldn’t quite pinpoint what it meant. 

Nesta had run into Azriel the other morning as if he were just coming back into the house, even though she knew he had spent the night at the House of Wind. It left her so confused, she spent the rest of the day confused and stuck in her own head. 

These days he seemed to have less shadows following him about, the light allowing Nesta to see more of his face. The bags beneath his eyes had lessened and he seemed brighter. Azriel had even been a bit more vocal at family gatherings. 

She hadn’t said anything when she saw him, merely nodded at him in greeting before he disappeared once more. She had turned the brief interaction over and over in her mind, searching for any detail she may have missed. 

“He’s seeing someone.”

Cassian choked on his smoothie, a chunk of banana getting caught in his throat. The mated pair had been enjoying a quiet breakfast until the realization hit Nesta hard and fast.

Yes. He was seeing someone. Someone he cared about. 

“You can’t be serious. We’ve talked about this.” Cassian looked down at the smoothie he spilt on himself, dabbing at his shirt with a towel as he spoke. The topic had come up before, but Nesta hadn’t felt so resolute and convinced as she did now.

“Cassian, I’m sure of it.”

“Have you seen this mysterious fae?”

“No, but-“

“Nesta,” he sighed, throwing the towel onto the counter, “Azriel’s love life has been a mystery to all of us for a long time. Believe me, if he’s keeping secrets, I want to be the first to know.”

Nesta let the words hang in the air, taking a bite of her bowl of oats. She watched Cassian’s face for a moment, an idea forming. 

“Let’s find out.”

The couple made a plan they felt quite proud of: they’d covertly ask Rhys about Azriel’s upcoming schedule, and on the nights he was staying at the House of Wind, they would stay up and follow him out.

It sounded so easy, surely within a night or two they would catch where he snuck off to, finding him with a lover, putting an end to Nesta’s curiosity.

Cassian was quite proud of himself when asking Rhysand about their brother’s schedule. He had been debating all sorts of reasons as to why he should know Azriel’s whereabouts from planning a surprise for him to wanting to make him a nice meal. He knew Rhys would see through those reasons, so he went for a much simpler reason.

The two were lounging lazily in Rhys’s office, the deep purple curtains blowing softly in the breeze. Rhys had hummed after Cassian asked about Azriel’s schedule, finally looking up at his brother before Cassian quickly sputtered out.

“You know, so Nes and I can have alone time.”

Rhys tilted his head, analyzing Cassian’s face as he took the question in. He leaned back in his chair, a slight creak as his weight shifted.

“Since when have the two of you ever cared about having an audience?”

Cassian rubbed his sweaty palms against his thighs, anticipating the question. He leaned in conspiratorially, dropping his voice as if Azriel would hear. “Well, we were talking and we felt a bit bad after everything at Solstice, ya know? We’ve been trying to be more delicate.”

Rhys rubbed his eyes, clearly not swayed on the reason, but not sure if he cared enough to know the full truth. “He’ll be gone Saturday through Tuesday, otherwise he has no commitments that aren’t small and local.”

The two continued on their ‘meeting’ - mostly drinking while Rhys reviewed mind numbing documents. It was rare Cassian got to spend time alone with Rhysand these days. Nyx and Feyre kept his brother’s attention nearly every moment of the day.

He didn’t harbor any ill will about it, but the crackling fire and silence transported Cassian back to a much younger body. One with less scars and aches, less sure of himself. How every evening of his youth was accompanied by Rhys and Azriel, the three complaining about whatever fresh new horrors training had laid upon them that day.

Had Az felt this distance with Rhys or even Cassian? Sure, he lived in the House of Wind with him, but the general hardly saw him. Guilt flooded his chest, trying to remember the last time he devoted any attention to Azriel directly. 

Cassian spent the rest of his afternoon in Rhys’s office, thoughts far away from the brother before him. 

-

For the rest of the week, Cassian went out of his way to seek out Az. He found him for meals, looking for him to do work together, asking to go on flights together. The sudden clinginess had met little resistance from Azriel, just confusion from the shadowsinger. 

During the night, Cassian would leave his brother, and he and Nesta waited, lurking the halls of the House of Wind to see what they would find. 

The first three nights were unsuccessful, the mated pair falling asleep in the hallway during their shifts before giving up and retreating to their beds. It felt odd staying up so late with little results, but the pair were determined to catch Azriel.

On the fourth and groggy night, the pair had changed to watching in shifts. Nesta took the first watch and would wake Cassian to take the second watch. Cassian agreed easily, exhaustion overtaking his body quickly after the extra training he had been doing with Azriel.

Cassian hadn’t slept for that long when he felt Nesta tugging the bond intently. He reluctantly got up, letting the bond drag him through the halls of the house. He finally found his mate standing at the balcony doors, urging him to hurry up.

“He just took off - we have to follow him.”

Guilt stirred in Cassian’s chest, an unpleasant pang creeping back in that he had a hand in his brother’s loneliness. He didn’t want to follow his brother, and wanted to afford him some privacy in the company he kept these days. 

But the general scooped up his mate anyway, wings taking off, slicing through air currents. Cassian’s wings flapped slowly in the wind, trying to stay as silent as possible as the two flew over Velaris. His hands gripped tighter around Nesta as the air got colder, the altitude rising to hide between the clouds.

They followed Azriel to the outskirts of Velaris, watched him land at the gate to a small, quaint home. It was charming - a white house with wood trim, a round door, and a small garden in the front. Cassian glided in the air, watching Azriel walk into the home before he closed the door behind him.

After a moment, the pair made their descent, landing softly on the ground. After setting Nesta down, the two slunk through the night, making little disturbance as they made it to the front door.

Nesta pressed her long ear to the door, listening for any movement before gently reaching her hand out and twisting the knob. It moved with ease, a quiet one could only find in the dead of night.

The mated pair crept in, slowly shutting the door behind them before gazing at each other, a silent now what? exchanged in their glances.

They both took in the dark house, scanning across the bookshelves that littered the common room. Books were strewn about the place. Papers were scattered everywhere. Mugs sat out on the tables, lonely tea bags left in the bottoms of them.

This was certainly not Azriel’s home, Cassian thought. Azriel’s room was incredibly bare boned, not even appearing to be lived in. But this place, with a worn couch and still warm fireplace, called out a level of domesticity Nesta doesn’t think she’s ever had.

Cassian began tracing his thumb across the spines of books, none of the titles familiar to him. He was just about to sit on the couch when Nesta pulled him away, dragging him to a staircase. He wanted to stop the madness, guilt sinking into his gut at the invasion of privacy, continuing on in spite of what he knew was wrong. 

The hallway was small, Cassian’s wings tucking in tight to squeeze through. Paintings hung on the walls, but it was too dark to make out the subjects. At the top of the stairs was a hallway which had three doors coming off of it. Cassian pointed his finger at the doors, moving his hand between them in decision. Muttering something under his breath, his finger landed on the door in the middle. The two began making their way to the door, until they heard shuffling from behind it.

The two quickly changed direction and moved into the closest room, closing the door quickly behind them. Cassian’s wings barely fit through the door, but he managed somehow, turning to gaze at the door, half wondering how he’s going to get out. Nesta’s hand on his arm made him still, the soft dig of her nails an unwelcome feeling for the first time.

Cassian turned, taking in the room they chose. Just as cozy as the rest of the house, the room was filled with knick knacks and trinkets, the place seeming well loved. He wasn’t certain what had stopped Nesta until his eyes landed on the bed, finding a female’s form covered by a large comforter.

The female slumbered, her breathing heavy as Nesta watched her. Her mind whirled, doubt creeping in that they had gotten this all wrong. Azriel had a girlfriend and that was that.

Nesta knew Azriel was a bit odd, always keeping secrets. A secret girlfriend shouldn’t surprise her, but the air still held a note of sinister to it.

She began turning away, pushing Cassian to go back to the door, when the female shifted, her foot moving out from the blanket and Nesta’s blood ran cold.

“Cass.”

A faebane shackle laid across her ankle.

She turned to Cassian, pointing her index finger at the shackle but it was too late. Something cold wrapped around her shoulder, a deep voice in her ear whispering, “what are you doing?”

Nesta let out a scream from deep in her soul before turning to find the shadowsinger behind her. He was towering over her, and it was then Nesta understood the icy rage so many had described him having. His shadows were slithering all around him in agitation, his stare making Nesta’s stomach plummet. She shot out a fist, instinct kicking in before Azriel caught her hand, holding it tight.

Hazel eyes had targeted onto hers, his hand holding tight around her fist as she tried to push him off her.

“Let her go, Az.” Cassian’s jaw clenched, preparing to fight his brother. Cassian was shocked at this secret life his brother had. He knew that the shadowsinger had an unsavory job, but he never thought his brother could resort to this.

“Not before she tells me what the two of you are doing here.”

“What we are doing here? You’ve kidnapped someone, Az!” Her free hand flung out to the direction of the female on the bed, surely drugged by how the rocuse hadn’t woken her. Azriel’s eyes followed Nesta’s hand, his jaw ticking at having been caught. 

“She’s none of your business.” Any warmth Azriel had shown Nesta was gone from his voice, a cold timber that nearly made Nesta collapse.

Cassian put an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, trying to pull her away from Azriel. “Brother, what are you doing? Why is she-“

“She’s none of your concern.” Azriel’s voice was clipped, sharp with agitation. He stepped toward them, his shadows peering over his shoulder making him seem a foot taller. “Now, why are you two here?”

Cassian growled at his brother, forming a shield in front of Nesta. His blood was roaring, Illyrian drive revving up in preparation for anything. Azriel stood his ground, a menacing shadow towering over Cassian. 

The general looked back at the bed, the split second he spent watching the steady rise and fall of the female’s breathing lasting almost a lifetime.

A hundred possibilities moved through Cassian’s mine, a slideshow of what ifs and regrets. He knew the best course of action now was to flee, to run, to get Rhysand. If Azriel had gone rogue, truly going off the deep end, were Cassian and Nesta enough to fight him?

He didn’t wait to find out. Cassian turned his back on his brother before grabbing Nesta’s waist. He carried her to the balcony in a sprint, crashing through the doors before taking to the skies with Nesta in his arms.

“Cassian, we have to go back! We have to save her.” Nesta’s words were accented with her fist making contact with Cassian’s shoulder.

“Nesta, if what we saw was real, we have to tell Rhys. We can’t fight this by ourselves.”

The General had never flown so fast before, yelling for Rhys in his mind only to get no response. The pair landed on a balcony outside the River House that Cassian knew led directly into Rhys’s study. After setting Nesta down, he opened the door, stopping as he saw both of his brothers already conversing.

“Cassian,” Rhys purred, irritation twinkling in his eye the only hint at his annoyance. “How lovely for you two to join us.”

Nesta wasted no time as she stormed in, squaring up to Azriel. The shadowsinger still towered over her, but she did not back down. 

“I trusted you.”

Her finger jabbed into his chest. It didn’t do anything other than pain Nesta’s finger, but she did it again to drive the point home.

“I trusted you with my friends, the priestesses, my sisters! I trusted you!” Each word was emphasized with a jab of her finger into his chest. He snarled back at the accusations, but remained quiet.

“Was this because of Solstice?” Cassian chimed in from behind his mate. “Certainly there were better options than this!”

“Do you find me so inloveable I’d resort to- what exactly?” 

“Sit down, all three of you.” A High Lord’s command had the three fae tensing. They all sat promptly, Nesta moving her chair closer to Cassian.

“Rhys, look into my mind, you have to know what I saw.”

Rhys held up a hand, his jaw setting in annoyance.

“I was woken up by Azriel, something that hasn’t happened in centuries. Now, I want to hear from all of you what happened.”

Cassian and Nesta began speaking at the same time, their words jumbled on top of each other. Rhys sighed before he looked to Azriel. “You woke me up, I’ll hear your side first.”

“This situation is no one’s concern.”

Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Well, if there’s no concern, why did you wake me?”

Azriel opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Nesta. “None of our concern? You had a female hostage, Azriel!”

Azriel bared his teeth at his sister in law, “she is not some female and she is not your concern.”

Cadsian and Rhys stared in shock at Azriel’s outburst, neither brother getting a word in before three light taps hit the wood of the door. All four fae turned as the door opened, a female in her pajamas coming into view.

“Um, hi.”

All heads turned to the doorway to find Feyre escorting a female in. Hair unbound, she wore a long shirt and nothing else, exposing her legs to the cold air. 

Azriel stood quickly, knocking his chair back to get to the door in three quick strides. He reached out his hands, gently placing them on her shoulders. The female raised her hands, rubbing his in a soothing motion.

“You don’t have to.”

Azriel was met with a glare before a soft “I know” could be heard if Nesta strained her ears just enough.

“It’s nice to meet you all, despite the strange circumstances.”

Cassian looked on in confusion, each moment curiouser than the last. Nesta watched the reactions of everyone around her - Azriel stood in the doorway next to a confused Feyre, and Rhys sat back in his chair, arms crossed at the chest.

“None of you know me, but it feels like I know all of you from how much Azriel speaks of you.”

Azriel cut in, his hands going back onto her shoulders, his wings wrapping around her in a possessive stance. Shadows circled the pair incessantly, twitching in agitation, huddling close to both as if protecting them.

“She is my mate.”

The room was completely quiet at the revelation, no one moving to break the spell of the atmosphere. Azriel’s shadows swirled around the room, whether fighting or dancing, Nesta couldn’t tell.

“I think you killed them.” A soft giggle came from her, unable to help herself as she saw the most famous family in the Night Court at an utter loss for words.

“Hush, you.” Azriel gently squeezed her arm, watching the faces of his family. They all stared back, jaws practically hanging off the hinges. It was Cassian who spoke up first, his hand scratching the back of his head.

“Then why was she chained to your bed?”

A sad smile graced her lips, the endearingly sleepy look gone. “Oh, um, it’s quite a story. My brother could wield the shadows, but when he died a few years ago, his shadows just flocked to me.”

Cassian looked more closely, and could tell a slight difference in the shadows in the room. He didn’t think much of them initially, assuming they were just Azriel’s, but now he could make out two distinct groupings of darkness: one pool was erratic, moving with no plotted course, the other seemed to follow them, trying to corral them closer.

It was truly a sight to see. He was mesmerized by them, like a child watching fish pass by in a tank.

“Then why the shackles?”

“Oh!” Nesta wanted to roll her eyes, not expecting Azriel’s mate to cause her such anguish in such a short span of time. “I’ve been having issues lately where I shadow walk while dreaming. It’s really not ideal.” Hands moved to her bag, pulling out a set of keys that jangled as they came free. “Azriel thought of it - but he ensures I always have a set of keys nearby should I need to escape.”

”And why have you been a secret from us?”

“My fault, again. I don’t have the best hold on my shadows and they like to tell me everything so I’ve basically been a homebody unless Azriel’s around.”

They stared blankly, the three fae still not quite wrapping their heads around her existence.

“It’s just really difficult taking in all the new information all the time like how my High Lord is smiling and how he has his shoes off beneath the desk and how Nesta’s nails are digging into her palms-“

“I think that’s enough, dear.”

Azriel ran a soothing hand down his mate’s hair, the action soothing her shadows.

“But I promise he’s not hiding me against my will. In fact, that’s my house you two broke into.”

The color drained from Cassian’s face as he leaned forward, “I’m so-“

Her hand waved him off. “Azriel warned me his family was nosey. I figured it was only a matter of time until he found out how nosey you lot were.”

Cassian looked sheepish, leaning back in his seat, avoiding the gaze of both of his brothers.

“Will we see you again?” Nesta sounded almost sheepish, insecure. She didn’t want to convey how badly she wanted to know Azriel’s mate. She always held a soft spot for the shadowsinger, and she wanted to probe more answers out of her.

Azriel and his mate shared a glance between each other, the adoration shining in their shared look. It was enough for Nesta’s hackles to fall back down and be satiated.

For now.

“I’m sure you will.” Despite the hour, despite the fact they broke into her home, she was all smiles and brightness.

“Now, I’d like to escort my mate back to bed. Surely the two of you-“ Azriel pointed fingers at his brothers, “should do the same.”

Azriel led his mate to the balcony before gently picking her up, carrying her off into the night. The three fae sat in silence, watching his form get smaller and smaller. The doors stayed open, the soft wingbeats and giggles carried through the house on the wind.

Header by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-angst @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl @quiet-loser @thegreyjoyed @paankhaleyaaar @acoazlove

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124 @slytherintaco @userxs-blog @emryb

[rafeysdeer]

hiii I really love ur writing I eat it up everytimee ❤️❤️❤️😍😍😛

I was wondering if I could request a Jason Todd like thingy where reader is new to Gotham and she doesnt know her boyfriend (jason) is red hood or who he is really . And one night he just passes out straight in bed without even thinking about his suit and helmet and reader wakes up to this masked man in her bed and is like screaming and being like “wtf who the hell are you” “my bf is huge and he’ll fuck you up” and calling Jason and stuff and he’s just like tf?

Ik this request is like all over the place but I just randomly had this cute idea and I thought you’d eat it up 😍

thankkk uu ❤️❤️❤️

rough night (aka civil!reader x vigilante bf jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: where jason still keeps being a vigilante a secret from you, and you continue to be clueless that your boyfriend is red hood, until one rough night he forgets something a little important.

a/n: omg hi! i'm so happy with your request, sorry that it take so long, but here it is, i love how your mind work btw, hope you like it, i actually don't think my writing is good on this one, but the prompt is amazing! feel free to send requests!

It was a particularly calm night, at least for you, who had already done your bedtime routine, and were curled up in the couch with your favorite book, waiting for your boyfriend.

You watched on the news that there was a chasing, but this is Gotham, there is always a chasing on the news, you may not have lived here for long, but you are used to the special way of the city, fights, deaths and crimes that flooded the city on an ordinary weekday.

As much as you enjoyed waiting for your boyfriend to get home, so you could go to bed with him, he was pretty late today, and it was already late night, sleep was starting to overtake you, the book slowly becoming less interesting and more hazy, finally making you decide it was time to go to bed.

Now, even though Gotham is a dangerous city, and more than anything, unexpected, you definitely didn't expect that on a cool tuesday night you would walk into your room in your pretty pajamas and comfortable robe and find a huge vigilante lying on your bed, comfortable, as if he lived there his whole life.

And no one can blame you that your first reaction was to scream, scream for your life, while the book falls from your hand, you were in complete shock, the vigilante waking up confused as he looks around and finds you wrapped in your pink robe looking absolutely terrified.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? How did you get into my fucking apartment?" she said frantically as tears began to well up in your eyes as you grabbed the closest thing to you, to defend yourself, which turned out to be the lamp on your nightstand.

And the man lying in your bed looks just as confused as you do, even more, his head tilted to the side, you can't see through the intimidating red helmet, but you're sure if you could, you'd see a huge question mark hanging on his face.

"What do you mean who the hell am I? Have you lost your mind, honey?" And it wasn't until his voice came out modified by the modulator that Jason realized he was still in his full uniform, including his helmet, which explained his girlfriend's complete panic upon seeing him.

"Look, my boyfriend is going to be here any minute, and he's huge and he's going to beat the hell out of you, so please leave."

The words might have been intended to be threatening, but they lost their effect almost instantly when he knew that the boyfriend she was referring to was the one lying on the bed being threatened at that moment, and also by the tears he desperately wanted to wipe from your face.

And, as Gotham is the city of the unexpected, the unexpected happens, and the huge vigilante lying on your bed starts laughing, but not a threatening laugh, or a shy little giggle, he starts to really laugh, the kind of laugh that you throw your head back for laughing so hard, while slowly removing the helmet from his head.

And when your beloved boyfriend reveals himself, the lamp in your hand slowly lowers as your lips part in pure shock.

"Jason? What the hell is going on right now?"

She said while still holding the lamp, and looked at him more confused than ever, and the once scary and threatening vigilante stands up and wraps you in a hug, while you remain in complete shock.

"Did you have any intention to tell me about this at some point?"

Your mind, still recovering from the shock, manages to elaborate and ask, while you return the hug, as tight as you can, still shaking from finding out that your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood.

"Honey, I'm so sorry, I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn't know if you were going to be ready to hear it, and if you would still be with me after you found out."

"If you would still see me the same way, you would love me the same way"

And now your shock is for a completely different reason, as you pull away from his embrace softly, your brows furrowed in pure indignation.

"Are you kidding me right now? Jason I would love you and be with you even if you were the fucking Batman."

And a comforting smile appears on your face, as you, on your tiptoes, hold his face in your hands as if he was the most precious thing in the world, and for you, he was.

"Jay, I love you regardless of any of this, if you're a secret vigilante at night, your secrets or anything else, because I love you for who you are and I need you to know that."

And now the bright tears in your eyes were for a completely different reason, you just didn't expect him to think that way, when right there in front of you is the man you loved the most in the world.

"God, what did I do to deserve someone like you?" he murmurs into your hair as you're wrapped around each other, you guiding him towards the comfortable bed.

"I ask myself that every day, Jay."

And now, with no secrets and curled up comfortably in each other, as it should be, he whispers to you.

"About that Batman thing, we need to talk."

[fawnfemmes]

Sevika x chubby reader where the reader is a councilor. They make eyes during meetings where Sevika looks the reader up and down. Sevika flirts with reader right after until they have to leave. This keeps happening for a few meetings until reader shows up in a more showy outfit just to show off for Sevika. She resists ending the meeting early just to get to reader sooner. After, a different (male?) councilor gets to reader first, he attempts flirting with the reader and Sevika ofc pushes aside the guy and probably insults him for speaking to reader lmao and I was picturing this ending with Sevika and reader waiting until everyone leaves (or sevika telling everyone to get out) and having ✨intimacy✨ in the councilor room. But you can end it differently ofc. This is just a dabble tbh, just an idea that came to mind once I saw your post about it. Hope this sparks some inspiration!

୨so… what now?୧

councillor!sevika X f!councillor!reader

🏷️: lesbian sex, porn with a side of plot, fingering (r!receiving), oral (r!receiving), semi-public sex, reader is chubby, pet names used, stone top sevika, no beta we die like men

🦌:tysm for this angel.. I was half asleep when i wrote this so it might not be very good. Idk. i hope it’s okay & I’m sorry it took so long to answer!! it’s short but that’s cause i scrapped it a few times. i left it how it was for posting cause i didn’t wanna force myself to write and then have it be awful 😔

when sevika became a councillor, she’d expected to spend all her time with selfish rich people who aren’t concerned for anything but their own causes. what she hadn’t expected was you.

sure, you were a filthy rich piltie, but you used that money for things other than yourself. you lived luxuriously but you spent the money you didn’t use to help people. and you were the only councillor, apart from her, to argue that zaun deserves equal attention to piltover.

immediately she was enamoured with you. it also helped that you were utterly breathtaking— soft and feminine, yet tantalisingly sexy. and after your first conversation, in which she almost went insane after you fawned over her prosthetic arm, she noticed you tended to float towards her a whole lot more.

you made eyes at her constantly, which she more than gladly returned, and most of your post-meeting conversations were simply the two of you flirting back and forth until somebody called you away for whatever the reason.

another thing she noticed was that your clothing changed. you’d always been feminine. but she noticed that since your first conversation you gradually wore.. less clothing? of course, you weren’t crossing the boundary of indecent exposure, but the slits in your dresses gradually crawled up your thighs day by day, and the necklines creeped lower. on occasion, sevika would notice you leaning forward in your seat diagonally from hers, just enough to give her a glimpse of your décolletage.

and naturally, it wasn’t only sevika that noticed this. there was another councillor who’d taken a liking to you. and being the lovely person you were, you’d laughed politely at his attempts to flirt with you and had returned the same energy— only your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes like it did with sevika, your voice never had the same airy tone. it did stroke her ego a little, but that didn’t mean the situation didn’t piss her off.

after a particularly stressful meeting, sevika was already on edge. when she saw you and aforementioned councillor talking. except he had you much closer this time, and you didn’t seem particularly thrilled. so, she intervened.

after a swift argument and sevika having to resist the urge to punch things, the two of you had been left alone.

it hadn’t been difficult, getting her this riled up. the second that councillor had left she’d burst into this spiel about how you make her feel, how unbearable she finds it having to look at you in those damn clothes and not be able to fuck the living daylights out of you all the time. and all you could do was laugh at her, pulling her in to kiss her gently, pulling her hand to your waist.

which is how you found yourself in this situation. sevika on her knees in front of you, her beautifully carved nose bumping against your clit while she murmurs sweet words into your cunt. her hands gripping at the fat of your thighs, steel eyes meeting yours as your eyelids flutter.

“sevika- at least give me a break- fuck!,” you grip at her hair gently, hips moving against her face as she looks up at you, steel eyes glittering as she looks at your plum red face. she grins cockily at you before continuing, somehow even faster.

it’s impressive to you, how long she’s been doing this. you think it might be crossing the half hour mark, and you’ve already cum twice. you had offered to return the favour but she declined plainly, and you weren’t about to complain.

she stays buried between the fat of your thighs for long enough that you think the bones in your legs are melting, and when she finally comes up for air she seems immensely proud of herself.

after promptly cleaning you up and escorting you back to your place, sevika pauses outside your door and rests a hand on the small of your back. she looks so reluctant to leave that you just laugh, pulling her into your house and immediately wrapping your arms around her neck. she laughs, voice shaky when she speaks.

“so, uhm… what now?”

long story short, you end the night sweaty and bare in your bed, talking about your lives and pasts after the realisation that you don’t really know each other— well, didn’t. you do now, and you think you might love sevika now you do.

[osteoptimist]

If you enjoy 4e or thought any of these ideas sound neat, I also suggest checking out Draw Steel by MCDM! It isn't out yet, but I've been following the development and playtests and it seems really promising. It takes a lot of inspiration from 4e.

Building on the idea of healing surges, each character in DS has a set number of Recoveries that are spent when an effect would heal you and restore a third of your Stamina. But it also introduces Victories, a special resource gained by overcoming challenges that lets you use your best abilities easier. This means that at the end of an adventure when the players are approaching the boss, they're at their strongest (lots of Victories) AND at their weakest (low Recoveries, might die if they can no longer heal) at the same time, which makes for great dramatic pacing.

While it is explicitly a game about killing monsters, Draw Steel also has really fun rules for a wide variety of downtime activities, and an awesome Negotiation subsystem for important social interactions. The Negotiation rules literally require you to imagine the NPC as a complex, three dimensional person with their own perspectives, desires, and inner conflicts in order to succeed. I've seen it happen at the table, it brings NPCs to life in the minds of the players like nothing else.

The game has a big emphasis on making it fun for the Director to design and run combat encounters. You get a special resource, called Malice, that increases every round and can be spent to make monster abilities more powerful or to activate effects that change the whole battlefield. The guidelines for building encounters are robust and monsters have their own roles to help you create encounters that are more like actual puzzles to be solved with tactics than a slog of just rolling to hit the nearest enemy each turn.

It heavily features Minions as a monster type. Minions have a shared stamina pool, which means even a single-target effect can potentially knock out an entire squad. They also act in squads, so having literally dozens of monsters in play doesn't slow things down at all. I've run encounters with 19 enemies, no sweat.

Because it doesn't treat magic as an entire subsystem of the game that only some classes get access to, there's no martial/caster gap, and all the martial classes are just as capable as the ones that use magic or psionics.

If you liked the Warlord, check out the Tactician class in Draw Steel. It's all about giving your allies opportunities. Use your abilities to make them stronger, take extra actions, or reposition to adapt to the fight as it changes. It absolutely scratches the itch for a frontline support martial.

It also fixes one of the big design flaws in 4e, the way the game encouraged you to always use your powers in order of most to least powerful, with very little variation. First fight of the day? Daily power. After that you'd spend your Encounter powers and so on. Draw Steel instead gives you a variable amount of your Heroic Resource each round, which you then spend to use your Heroic Abilities. These are your biggest and strongest powers, but you can't use them right off the bat and they're all more situational, not always useful in every scenario so you have to decide what the best use of your HR is. Combined with the Malice and Villain Actions that the Director gets, this means that unlike 4e where fights were a nova in the first round followed by cleanup, Draw Steel fights get more exciting and dramatic as they progress.

Okay specific things I like about D&D 4e:

Healing surges are just a really good pacing mechanic and makes resource management important. They also scale better than 5e's hit dice, since a single healing surge always heals a proportion of the character's maximum hit points and the number of healing surges a character has stays mostly the same.

Despite the claim that the game is more combat-focused than other editions, it actually has a lot of objective rules-mediated support for non-combat scenes. I'm not even talking about skill challenges, skill challenges kinda sucked until they overhauled them and even then were kind of half-baked, but even without resorting to them the actual mechanics for the skills have plenty of predetermined, objective rules-mediated uses beyond "the DM determines a difficulty and then you try to roll high."

The Fighter is really fun to play.

I absolutely adore the worldbuilding of 4e. The cosmology actually feels mythological and like it has a mythic history. All the different inhabitants of the universe all fit into the cosmic tapestry instead of being a patchwork of unrelated ideas. Also, it introduced the Feywild, the Shadowfell, and the Astral Sea, so hell yeah.

Related to the cosmology, I love how it actually sneakily brought back the old Law vs Chaos conflict, albeit with the extremes being Lawful Good and Chaotic Evil and with Good and Evil as middle steps. It's actually really BECMI in many ways.

Also BECMI, the fact that ascension and immortality are written as the explicit end goals for characters. Hell yeag

[simonsrileyhusband]

Hello, I was wondering if you could write Simon x male reader, and i have this very specific story in mind

Simon who is kinda arrogant or whatever you call it, constantly trying to one up the reader, clingy, obnoxious but in love with the reader, flirting and shit but the reader at first doesn't return the feelings. Then at some point they bang and instead of the whole obnoxious "told you I'd fuck you good" Simon is more sentimental type, being so happy to finally have the reader.

Can you see the vision?

If not feel free to ignore this!

nsfw

you are not sure how you ended up in your bed with simon on top of you, shirtless, whining as he grinds on you, kissing down your neck and whispering how much he needed you, how much he wanted this.

ghost has always been flirty with you, always making suggestive jokes or remarks, trying to get a reaction out of you. but you never gave in, thinking he was like that with everyone, or thinking it was just that, a joke.

a few months ago, after a long mission a tipsy simon tried to flirt with you.

"hello doll, come here often?" i says leaning down to speak with you.

"no, this is my first time here." simon is handsome, everyone that looks st him knows it, sharp edges on his jaw, strong nose, big brows, cobered with small scars. he is handsome, and he knows it.

"mhm, new in town. would you like me to show you around? i have a nice bike."

"does that often work?"

"you have no idea... would you like to ride me?" you cant help but roll your eyes, even when his comment had an effect on you. your hand pushes him away.

"mhm, not really, im fine." you say before walking back to the table were the rest of the 141 was sitting, you can hear simon groan and order another drink.

and it happened again and again, indecent offering every single time he could. you blushed, pushed him away, say no and forget about it until next day.

but tonight was different, maybe the mission was too long, maybe you needed more rest to think straight. but simon looked way too good on that black shirt, a simple black button up with the sleeves rolled up.

maybe it was the way he laughed with the cup of whiskey raised to his lips. maybe it was the fact that you saw him covered in blood a few nights before, ripping a man apart that dared to try and harm you.

either way, you found yourself biting down on your lip and rubbing your thighs together at the sound of his low and husky voice.

"did you come alone, angel?" he asks, one hand on either side of you, caging you in the bar.

"no, i came with my friends." you say turning around, simons big body hulking over you, making you invisible for anyone that walked by.

"and where are they? they cant leave a cute birdie like you all alone..." he whispers leaning down.

"im fine, really. my friend simon takes care of me." you speak trying to hold back a smirk, your cheeks a bit blushed.

"oh, does he?"

"he does..."

"and is that simon guy handsome?"

"maybe... a bit"

"mhm" he chuckles and leans in to whisper in your ear "hi lovie... want me to drive you home? i only charge with a fun time"

"yeah" you mumble. simon pulls back, looking at you shoocked.

"w-what?" he asks blinking rapidly.

"yeah, take me home... ill pay" you whisper, a bit shyly.

his breath get heavier and he nods, walking to the table to grab his helmet and phone.

the drive to your apartment was quick, not a lot of people were out that night. you could feel how tense he was when you pressed your chest against his back, your hands rubbing his legs and squeezing his hands when they came to yours on the red lights.

"thanks, thanks... fuck, thank you" he whispers, his dick buried deep inside of you, your lips swollen from how much he kissed you.

"you are so pretty, so so pretty" he whines, rubbing your sides softly. his whole act falling down the moment you gave in, his facade crumbling at every moan and whimper you let out.

"fuck, love... ill make you feel good, ill make you feel so good."