#and i haven't stopped thinking about them since

[tinquacan]

I hoped, prayed really, that one post would get this out of my system enough that I could fall asleep without pondering the dynamics of the Bat Family climb each other. It wasn't. So now I give to you:

The Empire Koala Demons Strikes Back

Dick (as previously stated) is a koala octopus, with both arms around the neck and legs around Bruce/Jason's torso, sitting kinda on the hip of his chosen tree Family member. He's far too impatient and paranoid to not see where his ride is going. Unfortunately for Bruce and Jason, having a full-grown man sitting on your hip makes you too wide for most doorways, meaning that in the Manor, Bruce and Jason have gotten into the habit of turning 90 degrees and walking sideways through doors. And since Dick has made doorway attacks a trend, they both do this with or without Dick hugging them.

Jason tried to rebel once by climbing (just a good-old piggy back ride) Bruce first before anyone could climb him. It didn't stop his siblings from climbing them both; the end result was about 8 ft tall, and awful for Bruce's back and knees. He hasn't tried again since.

Tim 100% sits on shoulders, preferably Jason's; however, the ears on Batman's suit make a nice place to rest his head. He just wraps his arms around Jason's forehead and chills. Jason has had coffee spilled in his hair more than he cares to admit. Also, so many smudges on his helmet from Tim's hands.

Cass sits on one of Bruce's shoulders, sometimes facing forward, legs down (like sitting in a chair), but most of the time she's turned 90 degrees, sitting crisscross and using the side of his head as a backrest.

Steph, oh Steph, she's everywhere. One day, she'll be literally talking behind Jason's back with Dick, the next trying to roast marshmallows on Batman's ears with Cass (using the BatFlameThrower, of course), and another playing Go Fish on Jason's head with Tim.

Damian thinks that all of this is beneath him and questions why Father would allow this to continue. Then goes and lies down on BatCow's back and talks about how ridiculous this is.

Duke would curl around the lower calf. If Bruce is at a desk, Duke dims any light that gets under the desk and takes a nap. If Bruce is walking around a lot, he may move to a traditional piggyback.

You know all the pictures of the whole family fitting in Batman's cape? Yeah, do that, but with a leather biker jacket.

Jason: *equipped with a Tim around his neck, a Steph on his shoulder, and a Dick on his hip.* How do you do anything like this? Bruce: I find it helpful to think of it as a training exercise Jason: Training what? Just what muscle groups are benefiting from this? Bruce: not muscles, Jason, patience Jason: Patience? Wait where are you going? Bruce: To make sure they haven't found where I hid the BatFlameThrower. Jason: T h e W H A T

You know how Dick gives everyone hugs like an octopus, what if his hugging habits rubbed off on everyone else. Like everyone just clings to Bruce's legs, arms, and the like.

Before Jason came home, Bruce was the tallest, and Dick was the one initiating these hugs. Basicly Dick has shown everyone that whenever anyone wants to get picked up, they all go climb Bruce.

One day, a few days after Jason agreed to stay at the manor long-term. Bruce pulls Jason over to the side.

Bruce, whispering: There's something you need to know if you're gonna stay here– Jason, in his normal voice, cause why the hell is he whispering in his own home: Yeah yeah no killing, rubber bullet yahda yahda Bruce: No it's not that I trust you not to kill people. It's about the others. Jason half distracted: huh, what about the others? Bruce trying to find a polite way to talk about his children: ah well you see they really like hugs– Jason: you pulling over to warn me about hugs?  Really old man? You've lost your edge Bruce ‘I love my children’ Wayne: When I say they like hugs, I mean that in a kinda kaola demon way Jason cracking: Really is that what they are? God Bruce this is a new low I thought you wanted stay here? Bruce: I do! More than anything but I wanted to warn you– Jason: that children like hugs? Cause who could had thought of that. Bruce with a very serious expression: yes that but you dont understand– they, they climb Jason: What the shit are you talking now? Bruce: They climb me and latch on. They climb the doorframe of the manor to jump on me, they koala onto me in the damn batsuit, and now I fear they will climb you. Jason: oook, and how did you decide this? Bruce: Jaylad, you're taller than me and almost as much bulk in their eyes; you're a freaking Jungle gym. Jason: What about Dick? He's not that much shorter than you? Bruce: Who do you think started this?!

[xocxyo]

𝕬𝖘 𝖎𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘 - 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑𝖆 𝕬𝖛𝖆𝖓𝖟𝖎𝖓𝖎

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Daniela flees a fancy, empty event in downtown LA, dressed in evening wear, and ends up wandering the city at night—aimless, with nothing but loud music, neon lights reflecting off the windows, and deep conversations in the middle of nowhere. But with her love.

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: None, is fluff

𝔞/𝔫: Okay, I haven't updated the fics in a while, you guys needed this. I wasn't really thinking about it, it was something that suddenly popped into my head and I decided to put it into practice, so don't expect much. By the way, I'm working on new episodes for THE IDOL

The engine was still running.

The radio was playing some random song—the kind you never hear until someone gets in the car singing it. But the passenger seat was empty.

She was late.

Lights were flashing on top of the event building. You could hear the flashbulbs popping even from inside the car. It was one of those parties that make everyone seem happy, important, too busy to really feel anything. Until the passenger door opened in a rush. Daniela got in as if she were running away. And she was.

"Drive," she ordered, taking off her earrings and throwing her heels on the floor of the car. Her breathing still rapid, her hair disheveled from the rush. "Before he realizes I'm gone."

You didn't need to ask who he was. You knew. Her manager.

With the car in motion, you drove aimlessly through the wet streets of LA, letting the headlights and neon signs trace a makeshift map. There was no need to ask where she wanted to go. The destination never mattered when Daniela was by your side—she made any place feel right, even if it was just an empty gas station or a quiet street between two buildings no one else was looking at. In the passenger seat, she sat with her legs crossed, her fitted dress riding up discreetly on her thigh as her fingers removed the gold bracelet from her wrist with calculated slowness. It was as if she were stripping the night away, piece by piece, until only her remained. The real her.

"I hate these parties," she murmured, more to herself than to you, her eyes fixed on the reflection of the city in the window. "I swear to God, this man drives me crazy," she continued, letting out an irritated sigh. "First he complained about my dress, then he said I was 'too cold' in the photos with those disgusting people from the record company. And then he wanted me to force a conversation with the CEO of the energy drink brand as if I had the slightest desire. He forgets I'm an artist, not a receptionist."

The last sentence left a bitter taste, and you felt the urge to hold her hand, but you waited. Daniela was fire—and fire can't be held with your hands. Sometimes she just needed to burn alone for a few minutes before letting anyone get close. Still, your presence there, driving in silence, saying more with the calmness of the steering wheel than with any words, was enough to make her feel safe. As if you were the only place she could breathe without justifying herself.

"Sophia kept looking at me like, 'Daniela, don't say anything stupid,' and Manon by my side the whole time, was his luck. The two of them held the fort in there, but I… bro, I couldn't. I had to get out. I couldn't do it anymore."

You took your eyes off the street for a second and looked at her. Even irritated, even dismantling the props the night had glued to her, Daniela was mesmerizing. There was something about the way she spoke truths no one else dared, the way she faced the world as if she were always testing its limits. She was intense, full of contradictions, but there, inside the car, with her heels on the floor and her lips still marked by lipstick that was beginning to fade, she was yours alone.

"Shall we stop somewhere?" you asked, your voice low, as if to shield the moment from any outside noise.

Daniela looked at you for the first time since getting in the car. A slow, heavy, yet weightless look—there was a hidden tenderness there, a rare kind of trust she gave to almost no one.

"Only if it's a place where no one asks me for anything."

You smiled, without taking your eyes off the road, already knowing exactly where to go.

The route was familiar, but each time it seemed different. Maybe it was the way the streetlights cast light on the asphalt, the way the trees swayed slowly when the wind blew from the hills, or maybe it was just the fact that she was there—and when Daniela was there, everything took on a new, livelier, more urgent feel.

You drove up the narrow streets of the Silver Lake neighborhood, through the quiet curves of Echo Park, and then continued higher, where cars were less frequent. Up there, at the overlook hidden between the modern houses and dimly lit wooden fences, the entire city opened up before them. A sea of lights vibrated in the darkness. Los Angeles seemed to breathe beneath their feet.

You turned off the engine but left the radio on low. An old song played, the kind no one remembers the name of, just the feeling.

Daniela didn't say anything right away. She opened the door slowly and got out of the car as if stepping out of a piece of paper. He stood for a few seconds, breathing deeply with his arms crossed, feeling the cool air touch the exposed skin of his shoulders. The party seemed much further away than it was. The silence up there was different. It wasn't emptiness, it was peace.

You got out soon after and leaned against the hood of the car next to her. Daniela rested her head on your shoulder, without asking permission. Her perfume still carried traces of the night, but it was already mingling with her own scent—more real, more yours.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it," she said, without drama, just with a raw honesty she rarely let slip. "Fame, attention, this constant pressure… I love what we do, I really do. Singing with the girls, being on stage. But everything that comes with it… it's suffocating. And there are times when I just want to disappear with you for a few days. Live without having to show anything to anyone."

You didn't answer right away. You put your arm around her back and pulled her closer, feeling her body relax against yours, little by little, as if she were allowing herself to be cared for.

"We can do this," you said, your voice low but firm. "It doesn't have to be now, or forever." But whenever you want, whenever you need, just say the word and we'll disappear, even if it's just for a night.

Daniela smiled faintly, one of those small smiles that barely shows but says everything. She remained quiet for a few seconds, then reached out and pulled yours, intertwining her fingers with yours as if that were what held her in the world.

"This here," she whispered, looking at the city below, "is the only thing that reminds me that I'm still me. That I can still be Daniela, and not just 'Daniela from Katseye.'"

You squeezed her hand affectionately, without needing to say anything. There, on that forgotten corner of Los Angeles, the world seemed to have stopped for a moment. There were no cameras, no requests, no promises, no demands. Just the two of you. And that, in itself, was enough.

The breeze rose from the valley and ruffled the loose strands of her hair, which danced in the air as if unaware of gravity. The city was still there below, alive and noisy, but it seemed too distant to reach what existed in that corner of the world where you were.

Daniela slowly pulled away from your shoulder, her hand still clasped in yours, and turned to face you. Her face was now illuminated by the pale light of the nearest streetlight—just enough to reveal features softened by the silence. There was no longer anger in her eyes, only weariness and an almost imperceptible relief at being there, at having gotten out in time to avoid exploding inside.

"You always know where to find me," she said, almost like a loving accusation.

"And you always forget you don't have to run away alone," you replied, smiling.

She laughed softly, that laugh that came from deep in her throat, intimate, a little husky. Then she moved closer, standing between your legs, her hands now resting on your shoulders. They stayed like that for a moment, their faces close, but unhurried. The kind of closeness that didn't need to justify anything—just feel.

"Do you know what I thought while he was talking to me like I was a shop window doll?" she began, her eyes fixed on his, and now there was warmth there again. "That I would much rather be here, with you, listening to some cheesy song on the radio, with my dress wrinkled and my makeup smeared… than spend another second in there, pretending everything was fine."

You pulled her by the waist and kissed her. Not a rushed kiss, nor a hungry one—it was a calm, deep kiss, the kind that just seems to fit. The kind of kiss that soothes, that says "I'm here," "I understand," "you don't need to explain yourself."

She returned it with the same silent intensity, her fingers curling into the collar of your shirt and releasing it to rest on the back of your neck. When they pulled away, their foreheads still touching, Daniela sighed as if she had just put something back together.

"Thank you for always rescuing me," she murmured, her eyes closed for a moment.

"You don't need to be rescued, Dani. You just need to remember that you can leave whenever you want."

She smiled again, but now there was something calmer in that smile. As if a part of her had rested there, even if only for a few hours.

They stayed like that for a while longer, leaning against the car, exchanging slow kisses, words spoken between smiles and silences. And when the radio played one of those songs too slow for parties, but perfect for nights like this, she pulled you by the hand and said:

"Dance with me, mi amor" Her eyes were fixed on yours, her feet already bare on the cold asphalt.

You laughed, trying to soothe the embarrassment growing in your chest.

"Dani, I don't know how to dance," you replied, letting her lead you on. "Like… nothing. I'm a walking denial."

"And did I ask you for a ballet solo?" she retorted, pulling you tighter. "Just come with me. I've been dancing ballroom all my life, I can guide you.”

Before you could protest again, her hands were in yours, your bodies close, your face illuminated by the yellowish light from the streetlamp. Daniela began to sway slowly, first guiding her own feet as if dancing alone, and then making you follow her movements.

"See? It's not even difficult. One, two… one, two…" She counted softly, with that sweet tone of someone who isn't really trying to teach you anything, just wanting to enjoy the moment.

"Is this a dance or a guided meditation tutorial?" you teased, tripping lightly on your foot.

She laughed loudly, throwing her head back in a way that messed up her loose hair even more. The sound of her laughter echoed through the empty street and became music in itself. You thought you could listen to it forever.

"It's a real-life choreography," she replied, placing her hands on your waist and pulling you closer. "It doesn't have to be pretty. It just has to be done with desire."

And it was. The two of them danced slowly right there, in the middle of the forgotten Los Angeles street, under the soft light and the half-cloudy sky. Daniela would rest her forehead against yours every now and then, close her eyes, laugh at your clumsy attempts, and then resume leading as if the world were just this uneven dance between you.

At one point, she spun around on her own and almost slipped on the cold floor, but before she could fall, you held her tight. She stared at you for a second, her hands on your chest, her gaze shining with that warmth only she possessed.

"Not every step has to be right. Sometimes, stumbling is part of the fun," she said, with that smile that always appeared when the mask slipped and only the real Daniela, your Daniela, remained.

You wrapped your arms around her again, more confident now, less worried about what came next. And there, spinning slowly, laughing at silly things, your bodies pressed together and time slipping away, you created a small universe—where nothing was perfect, but everything was sincere.

"Promise that when everything gets unbearable again, we'll come here?" she asked without looking at you, but her voice firm. "Just you and me. No one else."

"Of course" You nodded, even though you knew you didn't need the answer. She already knew. She always knew.

After a few minutes of silence, she slipped out of your arms and returned to the passenger seat. She tossed her hair back and adjusted her seatbelt, still barefoot, the hem of her dress slightly stained with asphalt. Even so, in that moment, she looked more beautiful than on any stage, more alive than in any flash.

You started the car, but didn't touch the radio this time. The city still shone ahead, and you both knew that, sooner or later, you would have to go back. But not now. Now it was just the road. Just the two of you. And a silent memory etched into some forgotten corner of Los Angeles.

The car descended the hill slowly, and for a brief moment, it was as if the entire city had been made just to house that moment.

Masterlist

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

Right Beside Me. [chapter 2] l Harry Castillo

Harry Castillo x f!reader

bio : You and Harry had been friends for a few years. When he told you about his plans, despite your concerns, you supported him in his decision. Later, you were there for him as he tried to find his way in a new situation, when he was looking for the love he had always dreamed of. You were looking for the same thing too… But maybe you were both looking in the wrong places?

warnings: spoilers! If you haven't seen the movie The Materialists and don't want to know the plot, skip this story; friends to lovers; self-doubt; complexes and low self-esteem; alcohol; tears; Lucy appears; argument; Reader in poor mental health

a/n : .

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [Right Beside Me. - masterlist]

Harry Castillo had achieved his goal – he'd been noticed. Wherever he went, he felt women's eyes on him and knew he was now a good match for them.

For the next few weeks, he went out at night. He met friends, flirted with women, and notes with phone numbers ended up in the bottom of his pockets. He felt the same way he did when he got his driver's license or could legally buy alcohol. Everything was new and better than before.

He hadn't forgotten you, but your relationship had noticeably diminished. You felt awkward when you went out to dinner with him one day and you sensed the girl sitting a few tables away with her boyfriend looking at Harry, clearly trying to get his attention. Being a third wheel wasn't at the top of your priorities, so you started making excuses to avoid seeing Harry.

He didn't notice. His new life had completely consumed him.

Although you clearly felt his absence, you were happy that he had what he so desperately wanted. Harry's height had always been a huge complex for him. Although he was a wonderful, intelligent, and charming man, his love life wasn't exactly a success, and you thought that was terribly unfair. Now you watched him live life to the fullest.

Mary placed the coffee mug on your desk and then leaned against it, watching you work. Your eyes were practically glued to the monitor, and you barely managed to utter a quiet, "Thanks." It had been that way for weeks.

"Harry hasn't visited us in a while," she finally said, pushing back her black hair. "Is he okay?"

"Yes, I think so," you replied, continuing your work. Mary nodded.

“And… Is everything okay between you two?”

You glanced at her briefly, a slight frown appearing between your brows. “Yes, why do you ask?”

Mary shrugged and took a sip from her coffee mug. “He doesn’t come over to your place after work. You don’t go out. I thought you were friends.”

You stopped for a moment, and an image of Harry flashed before your eyes. It had been over three weeks and several messages since you last saw him. You couldn’t even remember what he’d texted you about, or if you’d even replied.

But Mary continued. “You know, I saw him yesterday. At one of the pubs I used to go to with Jack. Is he seeing someone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You felt a strange tingling sensation throughout your entire body. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged again. “He was flirting with some woman, and I thought you… You know.” Seeing your surprised look, she quickly explained, "He was always so nice when he came here. You seemed happy in his company."

"I was, but he's just my friend. If he was flirting, then great. Harry should find a nice girl who would really appreciate him."

"Okay." Mary took another sip. "That's funny." She snorted, shaking her head. "But I didn't think he was that tall."

You hadn't told her Harry's secret, but after that conversation, your thoughts kept wandering to him. Harry's absence was clearly felt, which was why you pulled out your phone after leaving work.

"So, how are things going with you and Amy?"

"Amy?" Harry scratched the back of his neck and stared down at his drink. "I'm dating Kate now."

"Oh."

"Oh" was the perfect response to many of the things Harry had said to you that evening. You finally managed to meet at a small, intimate restaurant and get a booth. He looked different. Like someone at the top of his game and in perfect shape. Unlike you.

"Sorry." You rubbed your eyebrows, clearly confused. "I was thinking about Amy... But okay. So how's Kate?"

"Okay, I guess. She's nice," he replied. "Actually, I'll see her later."

"Oh."

You quickly glanced at your watch, wondering how much more time he had allotted you. A sinking feeling filled your stomach.

"What about you? Maybe we could go out for dinner this weekend? You could meet Kate."

"I'm sorry, but Matt bought two theater tickets and..."

Harry's dark eyes widened. Had he missed something?

"Matt?" he repeated, surprised.

You took a sip of your drink, feeling the sweet liquid fill your mouth. It gave you a moment of respite. You finally spoke. "Yes, Matt. The same one for weeks."

You hadn't considered how your words would sound, but from Harry's reaction, you knew he might be offended. He shifted on the sofa.

"Not like me, huh?"

Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. "That's not what I meant, Harry." He nodded halfheartedly. "Really. Jesus, I'm sorry."

He raised his hand, signaling you to stop. "You know, I didn't think the fact that I was finally a good match would bother you."

"Wh-what?"

"Is it bad that I finally have the chance to choose, instead of waiting for someone to choose me? I thought you cared."

You looked at him as if seeing him for the first time, and in a completely different light. You'd known Harry Castillo for years, but the man only had his face. You swallowed before deciding to speak. 

"I care, Harry. You know that," you said quietly, your hand, which had been holding his for a moment, returning to your end of the table. "You misunderstood my words. I didn't mean to… I didn't think… Never mind."

You leaned back in your chair, suddenly feeling completely exhausted. This whole situation, this meeting, had been a complete disaster. In an instant, you wanted to go back to your apartment and leave it all behind.

Harry saw the discouragement written all over your face. Despite everything, he'd hoped you'd still support him, that as his friend, you'd offer him advice or be involved in his life in some way. Instead, he felt you'd drifted away from him, and he didn't know what to do about it. He'd forgotten about Matt. This was probably the same guy you'd once dated. But Harry didn't think you'd continue dating. You didn't mention it to him. Or did you?

Deep in his memory, he tried to dredge up some information, something you might have said or written. He felt increasingly foolish, realizing he only knew the name and nothing else about the man you were dating. Finally, something dawned on him.

"He works in finance, right?"

You glanced at him. "No," you replied calmly. "In advertising."

"Oh, right." Harry nodded. "Damn, sorry, sweetheart. I've been a bit busy lately. Too much going on."

"Sure, I get it."

A painful lump formed in your throat as you felt ignored by someone so close. This had never happened to you before, not with Harry, and you didn't know how to deal with it. The atmosphere at the table grew awkward, and Harry noticed you glancing at your watch. The rift between you was clear.

"Peter's engaged," Harry announced unexpectedly. You looked at him with mild interest, but it was something. "He met Charlotte through Adore. They do matchmaking."

"Oh." You raised your eyebrows. "And it worked?"

"Apparently." Harry smiled. "His parents are thrilled. They met shortly after the procedure. Love at first sight."

"That's rare, but congratulations." You took a sip of your drink. "My friend from work recently got married. It's a bit unfathomable, don't you think?" Harry looked at you questioningly, so you continued. "I mean, I don't know if I'm cut out for it. I don't mind monogamy, but I don't know if anyone would want to commit to me forever. Until death do us part."

You both chuckled. "I think you're definitely someone's dream come true. You're too hard on yourself." Harry replied, "But I'm wondering... Maybe I'll use their services too. What do you think?"

You shrugged. "I thought you were in top form right now. You said Kate was nice."

"Yes, but I don't know if that's what I'm looking for in a partner."

You looked at Harry with interest, asking, "So what are you looking for?"

He thought for a moment, swirling his drink in his hands. "Soulmates? Someone who will be there for you no matter what, through thick and thin. Someone who will listen and with whom silence won't be scary. Someone I can laugh with and share common goals. Is that silly?"

You shook your head, and Harry felt your expression soften. "I think we're all looking for the same thing. Just maybe in the wrong places."

After that evening, Harry felt like a splinter had been planted in his mind. The look in your eyes, what you'd said, all of it kept replaying in his head. When Kate said she wanted to focus on herself, he hadn't cared at all. He had a ton of work that consumed most of his time, but when he returned to his apartment, you filled his head again.

You exchanged a few messages, but they were nothing more than polite phrases or sentences like, "We have to meet up," "There's that movie you were talking about at the cinema. It looks interesting." "A new restaurant is opening nearby, we should check it out." You were drifting away from him; he could feel it and see it.

For the past few weeks, you'd felt like you were in the eye of a storm. Work had consumed your entire life. When you got home, all you had the energy to do was shower, grab a quick bite to eat, and fall into bed. But it wasn't the kind of exhaustion you could overcome with sleep. Physically and mentally, you were feeling worse and worse.

Yes, you missed Harry, but what you really missed was someone you could fall apart with, tell him you were exhausted, that you wanted to hide under a blanket and stay there forever, or at least a month.

Matt was genuinely kind when he tried to comfort you, but he was also consumed with work. His company was receiving tons of orders, and they were fighting for every customer. You felt it was simply unfair to burden him with your problems.

You were behind on groceries, laundry, cleaning, dentist appointments, and even texting. Your life was a chaos, and you were trying to keep yourself afloat, even though it was difficult.

Your brain hadn't even processed Lucy's appearance.

Lucy was beautiful. Harry noticed that immediately. She was also intelligent, and talking to her was truly enjoyable. She perfectly met all his expectations. This conviction blossomed within him over the next few weeks. He wrote to you about Lucy, even proposed a double date, but his message went unanswered.

And then came the breakup.

Something Harry hadn't expected. Not since he'd already chosen an engagement ring. But Lucy was right. There was no love between them, only an arrangement, and that couldn't work.

He needed you. You were the first person who came to mind that night, and the only one who stayed in his mind after returning from Iceland. Not everyone would be willing or able to accept him in such a bad state. You knew how to handle that. God, you knew how to handle anything.

He returned down the same hallway as before. The soft carpet muffled his footsteps. A woman who had emerged from one of the rooms looked at him with a smile, but Harry continued walking.

"Harry?"

He turned, spotting a familiar face. Mary was heading toward him, her expression a mixture of curiosity and surprise.

"Oh, hi," he greeted. "I came for..."

"I know," she interrupted, clutching the files she was carrying to her chest. "But she's not here."

He frowned. "She's not here? Did she go home?"

A look of sadness crossed Mary's beautiful face. "You don't know anything?" she asked. He didn't need to answer, because she saw it in his eyes. "She hasn't worked here for almost two weeks."

"What happened?"

Mary glanced down the hall where other staff members had appeared, nodded to Harry, and together they headed in the opposite direction. Her voice was quiet, but her nervousness was clear.

"It was a difficult time for her," she said. "I kept telling her to rest, to take it easy, but you know how she is. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore... After one of the hardest days, she quit. I haven't spoken to her much since; she hasn't replied to my messages." They stopped in front of the reception desk, where Mary finally looked at Harry with concern. "You really didn't know anything? You're friends, right?"

Harry swallowed, feeling as if something heavy had been placed on his shoulders. He knew nothing. Something had been happening to you for weeks, and he knew nothing.

"I..." he began, but had to clear his throat. "I'll go see her. I'll see if she's okay."

Mary nodded. "Please ask her to let me know she's okay. I'm worried."

"Sure, I'll tell her."

This was definitely not what he expected when he arrived at your office. As soon as he left, he picked up the phone and dialed your number, but as expected, it went to voicemail. He had to meet you in person; he had no other choice.

☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[lucy90712]

Hi!

Saw that you want some requests for tennis players so here is couple ideas. Either for Carlos or Jannik would be nice.

- Maybe reader has played tennis when they were younger. And they were quite good but got injured or just stopped playing. And they want to start playing as a hobby again. So their boyfriend gets really excited for them and wants to play with them.

- They have been together for a long time (like over 5 years) and they start to talk and think about past and things that they have done. Like holidays, family parties or just start if their relationship

- the reader is a small influencer (like under 10000 followers) and does a day in my life (where their boyfriend is seen) or “my boyfriend does my makeup”. And the internet goes nuts

- Reader has ADHD and has hard time on focusing on things. And maybe she and her boyfriend goes out for the night. And she has forgotten thing to home (phone wallet or something). And her boyfriend has taken them with him because he knows she would forgot them.

Hopefully you got some inspiration out of those. And i will brainstorm some more ideas later

A/N: I’m planning to write another one of these ideas for Carlos so keep your eyes peeled for that one The snap. A sound no one else heard but one I'll never forget. I was sixteen at the time on the verge of making my breakthrough into the world of professional tennis. The match was a final to win me my third junior title of the year but I didn't make it past the first game of the second set. I was sliding towards the ball when my foot caught rolling my ankle completely rupturing my Achilles tendon as well as fracturing a few bones in my leg. The pain was like nothing I'd ever felt before or anything I've felt since, instantly I knew it was bad and it really was. Recovery took a year and a half and by that point I didn't want to enter a tennis court ever again. 

When I was finally better I vowed that I'd never go anywhere near the sport of tennis which includes playing and even watching tennis. Before the injury tennis was my life but the very thing I loved so much took everything away from me in one split second and I couldn't do that to myself again. Instead I decided to focus on my education and get myself a good job that was much less risky and that's what I did. I worked hard and graduated top of my class with a degree in marketing which landed me a job at Nike straight out of uni. That's how I met Jannik and everything changed. 

Once my boss found out I used to play tennis he put me in charge of all the campaigns with the Tennis players they sponsor which was a big deal for my career but it was the last thing I wanted to do. The first campaign I worked on was with Jannik who really surprised me as he was so down to earth. In between shoots he sat and talked with me about my tennis career and why I gave it up which I never thought I'd talk about but for some reason around Jannik I couldn't stop myself. When I told him that I haven't stepped foot on a tennis court since that flipped a switch in him. He gave me his number that day and said he wanted me to enjoy tennis again so I should come to one of his training sessions just to watch. 

Before going to one of his training sessions he invited me out for coffee and we talked for hours about everything. After that we went out together a few more times which looking back were dates but at the time we never put a label on them until the day Jannik asked me to be his girlfriend. It was only then that he asked if I'd come to one of his training sessions but he didn't push he never reminded me he just knew that once I was ready I would go and one day I did. From that day I learned to love tennis as a fan rather than as a player which was something I never thought I'd get back. 

In the three years I've been with Jannik I've traveled the world watching him play and watching him win major titles which hurt a little to start with as I thought about what could've been but then I always remember how much I love my life now. Jannik always checks in with me too to make sure that I'm not thinking too much about the what ifs and if I am he always lets me talk through my feelings without even an ounce of judgment. It's thanks to him that I feel so ok being at all these matches with him it's all his encouragement and patience that has helped me stop hearing that sound every time someone strikes a ball. 

For a while Jannik has been trying to encourage me to play again even if it's just hit a ball a couple times with him with no pressure. He even got me into therapy so I can talk through my feelings about my injury with a professional. The therapy has really helped me and made me realise that the reason I don't want to step foot on a tennis court is because I'm scared of losing my freedom again. When I got injured I couldn't do anything I loved even just walks on the beach and I never want to experience that again. With Jannik's encouragement and the therapists help I've been feeling a lot better about picking up a racket again but I'm waiting for the moment where it just feels right. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After a bit of a break Jannik is back to training but because it's a Saturday I'm able to go with him. I've watched him practice many times but today I was extra focused watching his movements across the court and the way he struck the ball. He really is mesmerising to watch everything he does he makes it look so effortless which is what people used to say to me when I played and I have to say it's definitely fun to watch. He didn't train too hard for his first session back his coach just had him doing some basic stuff and getting moving again so by the time he was done he was tired but not exhausted like he usually is. 

For some reason as I climbed down from the stands I felt the urge to pick up one of Jannik's rackets he had leaning against the bottom of the stands. It's not an urge I've ever had before so I just did it and then I found a stray ball and started to bounce it with the racket. It wasn't much but it really did make me feel alive again I haven't held a racket since that day and I forgot the feeling I used to get every time I stepped foot onto a court even just for a practice session. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jannik watching me completely still like if he moved it would scare me and I'd stop. 

"I didn't think it would feel this good just to bounce a ball again" I said making my way towards him 

"Do you want to try some hitting practice with me I won't hit hard or make you run we can just hit it back and forth" Jannik suggested 

"You know what yeah I do" I said surprising myself 

He gave me a better racket and grabbed a few more balls and handed them to me so I could serve. It's been a long time since I served a ball so my first try was all over the place especially with Jannik's racket but on my second try I did it perfectly. True to his word Jannik didn't test me too much he had me moving a bit but he always made sure I had time to get to the ball and he didn't hit too hard. The longer we went on the braver I got so I started really making Jannik work for it which he also seemed to enjoy. As he could see it was getting more comfortable he made things a bit harder for me but I coped with it. 

We spent nearly an hour just having fun. Our rallies were long but they always ended when I wasn't quite brave enough to run for a ball. On our last rally I finally beat Jannik which is why he finally called it so I could end on a high. It was a small gesture but it meant a lot to me that he was willing to just take the loss to make me happy. The smile on his face also made my heart feel full because I could tell he was proud of me and that's always a great feeling. 

"How do you feel?" Jannik asked 

"Like I'm in heaven that was so much fun I didn't realise how much I missed it" I said excitedly 

"I'm so proud of you you know I know it's taken a lot for you to get this far and you did great you really made me work for some of those" he said 

"Can we do this again some time?" I asked 

"Of course we can whenever you want to play tell me and we'll play" he said 

"Maybe after some more practice I can start to play just for fun again" I said 

"And if you do I'll be right there cheering you on always" he smiled 

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

If you think that there is some conspiracy stopping fanfiction writers from getting paid for their work, then you did not understand the perspective of my post.

There is no "social double standard" or "intentional engineered koolaid" - there is just laws that protect fanfiction writers from being sued by the original copyright holder as long as we follow those laws and don't try to make money off of someone else's copyrighted material.

If you are a fanfic writer and you want to make money off your art - get a different hobby. Get the fuck out. Flat out.

(I don't even have time to get into the psychology of how capitalism makes us feel like we have to monetize every single inch of our lives, which is evil and wrong - including hobbies we do for free, and fanfiction is an amazing relief from that because you cannot monetize it, and I have never been more stressed in my life since people have been trying to monetize my own peaceful free hobby.)

Because there are so many people every single day who act like fanfiction not being monetized is a personal crime against them, and those people are actively putting the entire hobby of fanfiction at risk for everyone. So if you think fanfiction should ever involve money - stop writing it. Stop posting it. Get the fuck out of fandom. And switch to writing original fiction so your greedy self can make the money you want.

Fanfiction is based off copyrighted material. And usually, if you use someone else's copyrighted material, you are infringing on their intellectual property, which is something that they can sue you for. But the thing that makes fanfiction different is the concept of Free Use - the idea that it's not infringement if you don't make money off that intellectual property, so only the original owner (and anyone they permit to use their IP through legal paid deals) makes money off that IP. This is what has been protecting fanfiction writers for decades - the fact that fanfiction is always produced and distributed for free.

Anybody who tries to monetize their fanfiction - binding and selling it, putting a ko-fi or patreon on their fanfiction page (or putting fanfiction behind the paywall of a patreon), fake AO3 apps that run ads on fanfiction - all of those things are highly illegal. And just because people do those things, doesn't make them less illegal - it just means they haven't seen the legal consequences yet.

Keeping fanfiction free is what makes widely available to all of us. It's not a conspiracy - it's the law.

So please, for the love of god, keep fanfiction free, and keep everyone in fandom out of legal trouble, even if you think it's unfair that someone else can get paid for their work and you can't. If you really wanna get paid, write one of those fanfics that has all the copyrighted elements removed - like The Kissing Booth, 50 Shades of Grey, etc. and you might get a pop up fun fact about how your story was originally technically a fanfic. But DO NOT TRY TO SELL OR MONETIZE SOMEONE ELSE'S COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL. IT'S ILLEGAL.

I just saw someone say "there is no ethical consumption under capitalism" as an argument for boycotting AO3

Babe AO3 is a nonprofit. They do not exist under the ethics of capitalism. Fanfiction is legal because no money is ever exchanged around it. (All the money given to AO3 is used to maintain their servers and pay their lawyers to help keep fanfiction legal.)

Fanfiction is one of the few things in this world - probably the one singular form of entertainment that does not exist within the confines of capitalism. So by your own logic, even if you hate some of the content on AO3, it's inherently the only ethical thing to consume in the whole world.

[dipperscavern]

hiii! :) i really admire the way you write, especially for the man that exudes such strong husband energy: jon snow 😜 i was wondering if it’d be possible for me to request jon snow crushing on shy!reader while he’s still in the night’s watch. how would he go about his feelings? is jon’s duty to the program stronger than the base of what makes people human; the communion of two people? it’s a war between his mind and heart but it wouldn’t have to be if they were both on the same side, but which side is that?

baby girl this was like one of the first asks i ever received on this blog i am SO sorry for how i neglected you. really i just thought it was such a good request i needed to make a whole series about it HAHA i've moved away from that idea but here's the outline of it (with my word vomit in between the main points) for u :))) i admire YOU and the way YOU worded this. poet. come back to this blog so i can kiss your feet. OK LETS GO!

jon snow x fem!shy!reader // 3k words (i’m sorry.)

you make yourself scarce around castle black.

of course, being the only woman (and because of how close knit the brothers are), people notice you're there, but most don't bother you. you clean, you cook, you serve maester aemon, and you're more of an essence than anything. nobody even knows your name, and every time anyone asks the maester acts like he's sundowning (LMAO)

when jon discovers castle blacks secret, he's immediately enamored. he can't put his finger on what it is exactly… the sway of your hair, the bits of personality he catches glimpses of, perhaps it's the secrecy of it all.

that's what it must be — curiosity. the itch to dig in the ground where you know there's something under the dirt. nothing else, of course.

the first time you speak, he's more surprised than anything. your hair isn't blown by the wind to cover your face, and you're not an essence now, in this moment while facing him. you're real, and tangible, and hesitantly answering his questions.

he's careful about it. he says to himself its to be polite and not scare you, because that's not how father raised him. and while true, it's not the secret desire thrumming under his skin. the desire to speak to you again, and he knows if he prods too much, you'll show him the true meaning of recluse.

he even manages to get your name by the end of the conversation.

you don't know why you tell him. maybe it's because he's the only person besides the maester and lord commander you've talked to. maybe it's because of that strange feeling in your chest whenever he's around. whatever it is, you don't dwell on it.

if only jon could do the same.

it's like you planted a seed during your conversation. you've not sprouted yet, but, always, jon can feel you in the soil.

at first, he mistakes it for lust. thinks it's because you're the first woman he's laid eyes on since winterfell. that must be it. the nature of men, swallowing him and his thoughts whole.

the only thing he does more than train with a sword is shame himself for it.

he's been told — by the few that haven't acted like being a bastard is contagious — that he's observant. told by lord tyrion, especially. he used to take it as a (sort of) compliment, but it seems like he can't stop observing you.

when walking stairs, you skip every other step. sometimes you won't when leisurely walking down, but if you're in a rush you will. and you always skip them when walking up.

before doing a task, specifically holding something on the heavier side, you flick your left wrist to crack it. its subconscious, you never notice you're doing it. an old habit, jon thinks, likely stemming from an old injury. he's seen old northern lords do the same with their ankles before mounting horses.

your conversations begin to happen more and more, and jon starts to subconsciously seek you out. he once thought it was you walking in, but edd came through the door instead. he didn't let jon live it down for days, telling anyone that listened how his company can't be so horrid it makes people look like he just kicked a puppy among arrival. jon might’ve rolled his eyes at such a thing if he wasn’t blushing so furiously at the mention of you.

you're an unbelievably easy person to like. you smile and tuck hair behind your ears to ease your nerves, and somewhere in between doing so you burrow yourself deep into peoples hearts.

that's been jons experience, at least, but he can't fathom anyone having anything different.

it's like you've taken hold in his heart a place near arya, where protective nature and affection (yours a different kind then hers, quite obviously,) overlap. he eyes new recruits up and down, noting any to keep an eye on lest they be the kind he wouldn't trust around his sisters.

jon's not irrationally paranoid, so to say. a few have taken notice of you, and they aren't the kind you introduce to your mother and father. they make lewd gestures, and even lewder sentiments, which prompts jon to start your routine.

he starts walking you to your chambers at night. sam is up just that bit earlier with the stewards and keeps an eye on you in the mornings. if you notice, you don't appear to mind, offering a shy smile if you notice sam around. it's returned equally shy, if not shier.

he even mentions it to the old maester, just in case.

"And you worry for her, Jon snow?"

"Aye," he says. "I do."

the old man does a bit of prodding, himself. it's his favorite past time. "Why?"

jon glances to the window, where you can be seen feeding the ravens, unaware you're the topic of the present conversation. "Their eyes, Maester. They look at her as a piece of meat for the taking."

aemon nods. "And you do not, of course."

jon pauses, but not because the maester is right, and he feels a sort of guilt for it. he pauses because he’s wrong, and something uncomfortable tugs in his chest of that even being an idea. but he holds steady. "No. I don't."

the old man smiles, then. jon’s observant gaze sees the sorrow behind it. "I believe you."

it's a warm routine he falls into for a while. he rises with the sun, he trains, then its chores until lunch. you've become more of a presence around the castle, the security of jon (and, ghost,) and permission of the maester responsible for such an ability. so he sees you around. darting around corners, feeding ravens, scrubbing tables, skipping every other step in between. you both smile when you spot each other, even if it's a hard day. even if the day is cold.

once, you were cleaning the mess hall, and he & edd just happened to be walking by one of the windows you were near. naturally, edd, ever the observer and, more importantly, troublemaker, knocked on the window and quickly darted out of sight. since the gods favor him, your head snapped up just in time to see jon pass by.

when he walked you to your chambers that night, he explained it with such embarrassment the tips of his ears turned pink. you couldn't help laughing. jon couldn't help the way the sound made his heart sing.

it's a comfortable routine, and he finds security in having one. he’s learning, he’s becoming, and he is not alone. jon feels a sort of familiarity with it as each day passes.

the gods never favored him much, of course.

he ventures out beyond the wall and is stolen by fire. oddly, as he's hauled to the wildling camp, the most worry he feels for himself stems from the worry in your eyes when learning he'd be going on that journey. the absence of you stings worse than the cold.

he begins to go mad, seemingly. he imagines how you'd react to things, even though you're nowhere near. tormund said the strangest thing the other day, and the only thing jon could think of is your brows, and how they'd furrow. only lightly — you're careful in how much you let on.

he's frustrated with the woman with flamekissed hair, and how kissing her is the only surefire way to keep himself alive. the only way to get back to you. he's even resorted to putting ghost between them as they sleep. and as he lays there, frustrated, his thoughts drift to you (as they do most nights.)

he knows what you'd say if you were here. “'S not like she wants you, or anything mad like that."

jon, the fool, smiles to himself. he can't even help it.

"What are you grinning at, Crow?" someone says, and the smile is gone as quickly as it came.

internally, he chides himself the rest of the night and the next day for having no self-control about you. it's pathetic, he says to himself.

liar, a small voice whispers back.

a shake of his head, an intense blow of winter wind, and the voice is gone. a raven caws in the distance.

wind and words, wind and words.

the thoughts of you never really cease, so to say. he's able to put a leash on them, but can't seem stop himself in some instances.

you'd like that plant. you'd braid this animals hair, if you could. you'd think this child is cute. he blinks and behind his eyes he can see the warmth your features would carry when looking at them. the shake of his head does nothing this time.

somehow, some way, he makes it through.

the process is long and hard, and he feels different when he comes back, but at least he does. that is the important part. full of arrows and bleeding, but he makes it through those gates.

and all those feelings he worked so hard to bury come rushing back in one big swarm when he wakes.

the waking comes in two parts. first, he comes to, but doesn't open his eyes. the ache of arrows is registered, but it doesn't feel nearly as it did. theres something in his system dulling it, and he knows it must be something of maester aemon's. the realization that he's not only alive, but safe, has him a moments away from sleep as his body relaxes. but one thing keeps him awake for merely a second longer.

a voice. soft, and shy - like its not used to making itself known. a womans.

yours.

you're mumbling, but he can make out a few bits, and the cadence in which you say it. you're reciting an old northern prayer.

his heart swells, but he itches to tell you not to bother. they won't hear you, he wants to whisper. my blood deafens them.

and the darkness is greedy and swallows him whole.

the next time wakes is the final time. the first thing he registers isn't the ache of his wounds, surprisingly. of course, its quick to follow, but first is the weight of a smaller, softer hand in his. and his chest begins to ache for a different reason.

he opens his eyes to see you standing at his side, hand in his, but you aren't looking at him. your head is turned toward the window.

he could say something.

but he doesn't.

almost, he does, but something holds him back. perhaps it is the same thing that makes his eyes flutter shut again until you take your leave sometime later.

it's the last time you're together for a while.

even when he recovers, he doesn't seek you out. he doesn't push you away when you come to him, but you can feel the absence of a pull. the gravity of you no longer pulls him into orbit.

except it does. it's only farther now.

something shifts between you, and it is a strange kind of understanding.

he acts like he doesn't feel for you like he used to, while still refusing to leave your solar system. he still walks you every night. you act like you think he really doesn't feel that way anymore, while continuing to be his sun. you still brush a hand against his during your walks, sometimes. he used to lean away from you in his nerves, but now he twitches into you. you both pretend as if you don't notice, of course.

things are different, yes, but he's here. though you sleep in different buildings, it's still in the same walls. such small comforts make that distance between you both seem just an inch smaller — and these days that is enough.

is it?

as jon lays at night, like they did beyond the wall, his thoughts drift to you. it's harder to lie to himself when the moon is full, somehow. perhaps its watching.

eyes or none, after a few sleepless nights where he can do nothing but lay and think, he eventually comes to terms with himself.

he loves you, this he knows.

but he is unworthy. it would be a sin to taint you with such a ridden thing as himself — to not give you the life you deserve.

so, as the sun comes up, he makes a vow to himself and to it. its unspoken — merely crawled up his throat in a final breath he uses to blow out the candle lit at night when you consume his thoughts.

time passes. hearts beat, but they ache. distance grows between the planets, and it seems as if gravity weakens its pull with each passing day.

jon soon becomes lord commander.

you aren't allowed to vote, but if you could, you'd cast yours for him. for your heartache.

it's not like he doesn't hurt, too. you can see it behind his eyes whenever he looks at you. he doesn't allow himself to meet your gaze much anymore.

you offer him a shy, small smile and a nod of your head when he wins the election. he looks away.

you take your leave, and as you brace the weather in the walk to your chambers, you have a fleeting thought of snow and winter & their intersection. his absence stings like the cold.

and like a winter storm does his absence flurry.

he drowns himself in his duties now. there's a plethora of them, and it does good to rid himself of you.

a harsh thought. he winces with its fury.

it's better this way, he thinks. you're better off without him. safe, too. sam, grenn, and edd take turns escorting you at night under his command.

you may miss him, but you'll live, and so will he. he doesn't miss you much anymore.

"Liar," he says out loud this time.

time is a funny thing, you know

it’s always stretching on, somehow both impossibly slow and racing at alarming speeds. it feels like only months ago he left winterfell and joined the nights watch — an inexperienced bastard boy with nothing of his own.

now, lord stannis baratheon stands before him, the lord commander of the nights watch, offering him the ruling seat of the north on a silver platter. not just that — stannis has offered to legitimize him. he would bend the knee as jon snow, and rise as jon stark.

he could have you.

if he agreed, your children wouldn't be bastards. they'd run around the very halls jon grew up in.

when he sits at his desk in the dead of night, he almost agrees. his knees are on the cusp of bending, of hitting the ground not just in front of stannis, but in front of you. for the rest of his days.

he almost does it.

until the voice of ned stark fills his head. the voice of honor, of duty, of loyalty — of being alright with dying if it was for an honorable cause. and, ultimately, that voice carries weight heavier than stannis baratheons.

however, what jon fails to observe are the times and ways in which ned stark chose his family above all else. he doesn’t know that ned stark proudly harbors a "stain" on his honor and reputation such as jon for the love he bore his sister.

how could he? perhaps if jon knelt at the weirwood as often as he was told to, his father could speak from its mouth and tell him so. if only.

wind and words, wind and words.

the wind is cold the day jon tells stannis baratheon his name will remain snow. it blows with a fury the day the lord departs.

as jon watches him, he spares a glance to you. you're already looking at him, and his heart lurches against his will. your lips twitch in a frown as you turn your back to him, ravens cawing at you incessantly to be fed.

they are restless in the days leading up to the knives.

they caw during all hours of the night, keeping many of you awake. others have tried, but they only calm when you come to them. sometimes, when even that isn't enough, you recite that old northern prayer while feeding small seeds through the cages.

the few times you've done it, you've seen jon through the window of the lord commanders chambers. sometimes he stays in; others, he and ghost go for a walk. it's as if that prayer wakes him up.

if it does, it does nothing to wake his heart when it stops beating.

blood spilled on snow. blood spilled from snow. all of it is a blur — all of it is too much.

grief and heartache like you've never known it. a hook in your ribs, a chain of loss weighing from the end of it. it drags your shoulders down, drags your tears down your cheeks, and you feel heavy as he lays there, cold. colder than you've ever known him. cold like snow isn't a name, but what replaces his muscle.

maybe it does.

his body doesn't leave your sight until tormund giantsbane breaks through to castle black and order is restored. melisandre tries some strange ritual, but it doesn't work.

you aren't surprised. the gods never favored you much.

it feels like your prayers have always fallen on deaf ears — you can’t remember why you even bother to recite.

but, still, you thank her for trying. edd slings an arm over your shoulders as you both take your leave, and the weight is comforting.

the weight in your shoulders is lifted when you're found minutes later with the news of the undead.

you're no longer heavy — you run. you run so fast you skip every two steps when coming up the stairs to the lord commander's chambers.

it's somehow all a blur, and the clearest your memory has ever been.

he's no longer cold like the dead are. he's standing in front of you, and you can see it as he looks at you. he's been torn down and rebuilt and is missing pieces the recent blur of life and death make it impossible to label which are gone.

even so, you throw yourself into his arms, and they're already open and searching for you before you do.

his skin is cold, but he is not. he recites apologies until his voice breaks, and he gets quiet, and you tell him it's okay. and when you break apart, and look at each other for the first time in months, jon makes a decision - a vow, right then and there.

he couldn't - and didn't - have you in his last life, so he will have you in this one. he gave his life to the nights watch, he thinks. any oath he swore died with him.

well, at least that's what ricochets in his mind as he raises a hand to cup your jaw, closing the small gap and crashing his lips into yours.

[bumpen-underbeds]

You had been slowly cleaning away the other plushies in your room, one by one sold or donated to people who wanted them. Now it was just you and...

And well it.

I have had this in my drafts for a while now, it is a part 2 of the possessed teddy I wrote a while back.

Part 1 (Here)

After that fateful encounter, you had begrudgingly begun to remove the other plushies from your room, placing them on your couch and shelves away from your bedroom, all while being comically followed by the plush that had led to you having to do this. However, even after removing them from your room, the little demon of fluff still stomped its legs and gestured at the other toys, unhappy they were still in your home.

In the face of a teddy tyrant, you sigh and rub your temples, muttering that you will get rid of them soon.

It is bitter to call your parents and ask your mum to take some of your long-lived stuffed toys back, asking her to hold onto them for you, telling her 'just incase' as you brush aside her question about why, all while getting the others boxed up and ready for sale or donation, crying a little about the loss of so many memories and treasures.

Small stuffed paws banging against your calf as you placed the last box to the side, demanding to be picked up.

It had become clear the little bear was possessive and very, very needy, always asking to be held or sat on your lap whenever you were home alone, which had grown more and more often as your roommate had begun to stay out longer and longer, potential even moving out silently if the half empty room was telling of anything.

Dealing with that could come later, for now, you have a small plush creature limp in your arms, rumbling from some unknown place in its chest as you carry it back to your bedroom. Since the fateful day of finding out this thing was possessed, you had never seen that other form, the more human-like one, thinking about it makes you shiver, so lanky and pale with that unknowable face...

Creepy.

You had tried to get rid of the bear the day after, but no matter what, it just kept coming back, on your bed, in your arms, on the couch, slumped next to the front door, even when you threw it out a window during a rainstorm one time, it reappeared in your shower soggy and looking furious.

You haven't tried to get rid of it since, glumly giving in and trying to live alongside the little beast.

However, living alongside the possessed stuffed toy didn't mean you had to suffer it all the time, showers grew longer and often led to you sitting on the toilet scrolling your feeds with the door locked and little angry toy arms banging on the door, but try as you might sometimes a locked door didn't seem to stop this thing from getting to wherever you had managed to sneak away to.

Having managed to lock the little pest in a small cupboard in the kitchen, you had slunk back to your room, sighing as you took a moment to breathe and take on the moment alone, no plushy begging to be held, no padded footsteps following after you, just purely alone time. What better way to spend a good moment alone than to jack off? Rub one out?

Without those beady little plastic eyes watching you for once, you could get into the right headspace to unwind.

Lying back on your bed, house pants pushed down to your knees and shirt hiked up to your collarbones, you were halfway into a good feeling when the door rattled, jolting you out of your pleasure, it was rattled, not thumped on or bumped by a padded body, quickly making yourself you expected your long missing roommate to be on the other side.

What you expected to be a grumpy 20-something with a familiar face was very much not there.

Just as tall and pale as the first and last time you had seen it, the true form of the plush toy was out, a ruined door to the cupboard you had locked it in dumped at your feet as one of its hands grips your shoulder and pushes you into your room, door slamming behind it as it drags you back to your bed.

Long hair falling around its face as it tumbles into the rumpled sheets with you, grabbing your wrists and pulling your hands to its face. A mouth blurs into view as a pale blue tongue glides along your fingers, rumbling as what was left on your hands from your interrupted session is locked away, the feeling of it sucking and licking on your fingers is strange, like putting your hand in warm slime.

It should feel disgusting.

This thing's tongue slips between your fingers as black teeth dig into your skin, leaving small marks before it releases your hands, growling as it leans down, eyes changing shape a hundred times over, but all frustrated and glaring at you, "locked out, our bed, locked out of our bed! Do not lock me out again, need this, need you, our bed." Its voice is hissing and soft, its breath smells less like dust now, more like the fabric cleaner you keep in the laundry.

It pulls back slightly, straddling your thighs as it runs its fingers across its body, the fluff around its neck bristles andovea as it looks down at you, resting its hands above the dip of its hips, hissing as it speaks, "You need? You long? Hunger? Our bed provides, I provide."

There is the sound of ripping fabric, looking down to where the sound came from, you watch as the expanse of its pale flesh morphs, the blank plane between its legs shifts, changing with every blink, first a pussy, then a cock, then something that looks like a tentacle, leaning down to nuzzle against the side of your face it purrs "You pick, I provide all, make for you anything, all needs met on our bed."

There are flickers of smiles on its face, and one of its hands guides you to the area it had been displaying, pressing your fingers against its new form. Its length is pitch black, fading to a soft pearlescent white at the tip, while the shaft looks familiar in's texture is alien, with ridges and bumps that swirl to a tip that seems almost spiral in shape as it leaks down itself heavily.

As if by whatever dark magic made this thing in its beginning, it tugs at your clothes, pulling the stitching and leaving them nothing more than rags, leaning back as it flings them away. Still straddling your thighs as it looks down at you, one of its hands wrapped around its cock and the other touches its chest, kneading the flesh and morphing it subtly, watching silently as you unconsciously react to the changes, only stopping when it senses approval hidden behind your apprehension.

Pulling your hands up to press against its chest, leaning into the touch, encouraging you to feel how it had changed for you, how it will help you feed those needs you had locked it out for.

In your shared bed, it will provide, in any shape, in every way, your needs, its wants, our bed provides.

[painted-lemon]

That wasn't the war THAT WAS THE FIRST BATTLE the inciting incident this is THE START that wasn't a war that was just the first extermination where sinners fought back. The war hasn't even started yet. Did you really think that would be the entire thing? Like I said the "ass pacing" ISN'T EVEN THE SHOWS FAULT IT WAS THE PRODUCERS WHO GAVE THEM EIGHT TWENTY MINUTE EPISODES PER SEASON. if you have a problem with the "ass pacing" take it up with A24 and most of the stuff on bluesky that people are mad at her for are either normal light hearted statements that everyone blows out of proportion or clips of her being obviously sarcastic that people are taking literally. as for her other controversies they've either been overblown and apologized for or disproven and if you go back far enough and look at how other (male) creators who are just as rude as her and have done similar things as her aren't even considered slightly problematic and how other feminine presenting cartoon creators are treated similarly hatefully weather they did anything or not (gooseworks, Rebecca Sugar, Megan Nicole Dong, even fucking Dana Terrace) it's clear that the root of this obsessive disproportionate hatred of her on the Internet is rooted in bigotry. I'm not a Stan of her I don't even like her I'm just a casual fan of one of her shows/comics but even a year ago when I hadn't really been into her comics since middle school and I didn't really have any desire to watch either show I saw how rediculous disproportionate and overblown it was. Yeah she's a jerk and probably toxic but by the way people act you would think that she groomed children or pulled a felony fartinez but she hasn't done anything bad enough to constitute attacking her fans condemning and boycotting her shows harassing the voice actors and doxing viv and her entire family (which are all things that hellaverse Antis have done multiple times and been CELEBRATED for) Hazbin never tried to be BoJack horseman I love BoJack horseman it is an amazing show and they have NOTHING to do with each other in fact as a franchise Hazbin has existed since like 2004 it never pretended to be anything more than it is which is a fun show with fun characters and a fun artstyle that also has some themes and morals and something to say it isn't even for the same audience as Bojack horseman it's targeted towards the same audience as starkid musicals (which by the way have way more problematic content and just as much swearing and the same kind of weird juvenile sense of humor but I've never seen anything but praise for them) and the comics were targeted more towards the audience as Invader Zim (another show/comic you should check out if you haven't already) all I'm saying is being an anti of anything including this is a dumb hateful and pathetic way to spend your time. You said you like BoJack horseman you should post about it. I'm sure you have interesting things to say about it and whatever else you watch and actually like. you would probably be much happier if you left the things you hate and the people who like them and spend time engaging with the things you like. Plus you know it would also stop giving the things you hate more engagement and give the engagement to the things you like instead.

"But there was an artist on the Hazbin Hotel team with a non-con kink; therefore, the SA rep in it is bad!"

The way I physically could not care less about some random ass artist's kink can NOT be overstated

I do not give a SHIT what they do or draw in their spare time. They didn't come up with the themes of the show. They didn't write the episode. They did a JOB, and I assume, as someone with a JOB, they can separate their personal kinks and their goddamn WORK

I just am so sick of this argument. I don't care. I monumentally do not care. It's irrelevant to the conversation entirely. It's like saying a cameraman on a show about veganism eats meat, and therefore, the show is not about veganism. It's fucking dumb. Also! WHY!! DO!! YOU!! CARE!!!!!!

[ladykyriaa]

Re: people hating Jinshi

Something hilarious I've noticed is that the TVTropes page for the series completely ignores the romantic interactions between Jinshi and Maomao, and focuses heavily on the idea of Jinshi being a creep ("abhorrent admirer", derogatory mention of the frog scene) instead. No mention about Maomao returning his feelings. No discussion in the heartwarming tab about scenes where they clearly care for and like each other. Not even any real mention of Maomao liking Jinshi's childish personality, or major romantic scenes later in the novels (even tho it DOES mention other stuff from the novels)

If someone read the TVTropes page before getting into the series, they'd probably be completely convinced that it's one sided and being forced on Maomao, against her will. Even tho the anime itself has given plenty of hints towards it being reciprocal by now.

I can only assume the people running the series page have something personal against jinmao, and are imposing that on the page itself, despite the fact that it should be impartial at best, or at least be acknowledging canon at worst

I haven't read the TV Tropes page so i dont think i can say much abt it.

But I will say, people need to stop downplaying Maomao's feelings for Jinshi. To do so is basically denying her growth in itself, her accepting Jinshi isn't as some sort of "reward" for Jinshi nor is it for the sake of a romance finally fulfilled.

Since the beginning of series we've learned that Maomao has always been closed off, her aversion to love and heck even friendship is something she doesn't ever willingly admits.

We get to see the full state of her feelings finally when she admits that she cares for Chue (mind you this is the same person that is reluctant to admit she cares for Xiaolan and Shisui as a friend) Her admittance to that finally led her to accept Jinshi's feelings.

She didn't accept him bcs "she had no other choice" or bcs she's resigned herself to it as the fandom oh so gloriously love to claim. She accepted him bcs SHE'S finally ready to face her own feelings. (Which btw if y'all were truly reading you'll know that it's been growing for a long time)

Maomao is an unreliable narrator, and while i do agree that we shouldn't use this at every given opportunity as an excuse, its also important to be able to read the line between what she says vs what she does. When it comes to Jinshi, she lies to herself. A Lot.

I have no idea why people hate Jinmao so much, I've heard a lot of reasons actually but none ever fully make sense. (Theyre all stupid.)

And don't yall fucking dare discredit Natsu Hyuuga by saying "she was forced" to add Jinmao, bcs 1. No one can ever force a creator about their own work, not even their family.

2. A forced relationship wouldnt EVER be this well written/developed. This series started back in freaking 2011 and Jinmao has only recently become canon in Ln13 (Japan) which was released not so long ago. She had every opportunity to have them get together, there was no need for the push-pull shit they did starting from Ln5. But she didnt, because Maomao wasnt ready to face her feelings and Jinshi wasnt nearly mature enough on how to handle HIS feelings for Maomao -how he should treat her, the consequence of it all, etc

Do yall not hear how fucking dumb you sound when you say this?

[chaifootsteps]

thing is Viv did the exact same thing with the Diregentleman (as they were called then) and their videos. she made a vaguepost swiping at their 'two professional writers' series (just like with Meppity, implying they couldn't possibly be qualified to critique her work) and then admitted in a later post she hadn't actually watched their critiques because it would take up too much of her time.

maybe it's just me but I think if you're going to vaguepost about someone but not vaguely enough so it's obvious to everyone who it is, that's just an encouragement for her notoriously defensive fanbase to go harass them by giving them a lie that's easy to repeat. they haven't made a video about Helluva since, and it's possible it' s just because there's nothing left to say about it (though I would've loved to see their great analysis turned to ripping apart Apology Tour or Sinsmas) but they did remark that they know people who are afraid to even talk about Hellaverse critically because of the stans

at this point Viv has done an impressive showing of illogical arguments why no one can criticize her / they're all wrong, while claiming their attacks are bad faith. just off the top of my head:

the diregentleman one - writers can't be critics at the same time because how would anyone in the industry work with each other? (answer: by not being thin skinned about their work, Viv)

lying that the people criticizing her are just random know nothings (Diregentlemen and Meppity)

they're just parroting each other's arguments, so it's not valid unless they get new material (even though she hasn't watched half of them and having a common critique doesn't make it wrong; and if someone had a unique critique it's not like she'd engage with it)

people want Millie to have an angsty backstory and she's not that kind of character (even though that's not the problem people have with how she's written)

Millie's not underwritten, she'll get more if you guys just be patient (amidst a second season where she gets one episode if you're being realistic, two if you're being generous and neither are good)

both Stolas and Blitzo are in the wrong, you guys! now please stop talking about it (a transparent lie right after full moon because she saw how hard the critical fans and even some probably now former fans reacted to the ending gaslighting everyone that Blitzo made it all about sex, etc. and knew full well apology tour was about to double down on it)

which she then followed with liking tweets going 'especially Blitzo' and liking all the ones defending Stolas - including the frankly disgusting 'Blitzo could have negotiated his way out of having to have sex with Stolas' one

the swearing is funny and you just don't get it if you don't think so (again, not the problem. multiple critics have pointed out the issue isn't the swear; it's the swear alone being used as a punchline)

Stol1tz isn't a coercion storyline because that's not what we're doing it; again falsely claiming the show isn't portraying either Stolas or Blitzo to be in the right when that's blatantly not true (while also ignoring she's admitted in the past Stolas was supposed to be the bad guy and her asking Brandon to do more dramatic work with Stolas pretty obviously happened after production already started and they'd committed to the full moon deal plotline that loomed over 3/4 of season 1)

also telling someone who thinks it's coercion that it's not the story's fault they can't empathize with Stolas (as if that's what matters here and yes, it is a sign the story has failed if someone hates Stolas when they're not supposed to - which a lot of viewers do, Viv - he's one of the top reasons tons of people quit at s2, including me) and then saying it's a bad faith just because it's not the reading Viv wanted them to have

implying the only SA survivors that count are the ones who like her writing

to reiterate something I've seen others say: not everyone is good at dealing with criticism. a lot of people aren't and it's naturally to get defensive, especially with the volume of critique a big fandom will expose them to.

but that's a reason to log off or just not engage. instead Viv does things halfway where she never watches the criticism that bothers her so much, while also vagueposting about it to sic her fandom on them and lying about their professional credentials. and when she's not doing that it's long threads presenting obviously flawed logic about how all her critics are wrong while simultaneously trying to claim she's trying to learn and she's not bad at taking criticism. it's so counterproductive: it's not persuasive to anyone outside of the people who accept her framing that any criticism is bad faith already and it does nothing to dissuade people that she can't take criticism when she seems to feel the need to respond to anything that gets too much attention

and to just put the cherry on the cake, everything people criticized Zoophobia for is stuff they still apply to Hellaverse. the only criticism I've seen her take on board is trying to vary her color palette from just being red all the time! but anything related to character designs or her writing? nothing. idk if it's just an insecurity thing or what, but I imagine having HB decline in money so much they needed Amazon (and I'd put money that is 100% what happened; the signs were there) and having TADC completely bury HB in popularity probably isn't helping. it's hard to keep telling yourself that the critics are wrong when the fanbase is deserting in droves

Viv's been running the same playbook ever since she was a teenager on DA, which is siccing her fanbase on critics and attempting to drag down anyone who has anything even slightly negative to say about her work. Doesn't matter if it makes her look worse, or causes everyone to hate her...it's all she knows how to do.

[crookedchoppedkingdom]

Gideon Wilson Should Have Been in Brave New World

I've thought about how Brave New World could have provided more insight into Sam Wilson while including the character development he had in BNW. How the Red Hulk main plot wouldn't be considered a Bruce Banner sequel, and leave the Red Hulk reveal out of the trailers. Gideon Wilson is Sam and Sarah Wilson's older brother, who has direct ties to the Incredible Hulk. He supposedly connected to the same movie that is considered canon to the MCU. He was the one who argued the Abomination should be sent to a high-security prison. He even appeared in the She-Hulk show to speak at the Abomination's parole hearing.

What the movie could do is keep all the Red Hulk elements but instead of Ruth (bootleg widow) acting as the security consultant to Sam, it could be the legal consultant, Gideon. Gideon Wilson, in the comics, has a vendetta against Bruce Banner and overall with Gamma experiments, https://www.marvel.com/characters/mister-gideon. He is considered a recurring enemy of Bruce Banner until he realizes his anger towards Bruce was not healthy and decides to stop and help his team of superpowered people.

How to transition that into BNW: have Gideon replace the Leader's role. Have Gideon talk about working with Ross, what happened in Harlem, how much Gideon hates the Hulks. One conversation between Gideon and Sam can be a mirrored callback to the one Sam had with Zemo: when Gideon speaks about how dangerous and unstable Hulks are, Sam can talk about smart Hulk and Gideon can protest and state "it's a matter of time until they lose it". Have the scene of Ross almost losing it while in private intersplice throughtout the convo to hint Ross is turning.

Since a main complaint is that the movie doesn't focus enough on Sam himself. He can have a scene focused on how almost every villain he has faced has had a problem with the very concept of his supered friends. Super soldiers, assassins, Wanda, and now Banner. People who do great are often watched by those who are waiting for them to finally do bad. It could even make him snarkily say to himself or whoever he's talking to that he knows how that feels. Have Gideon confront Sam about running into the action without thinking about his family, and make a jab regarding Riley's death. Then we finally get some flashbacks with Riley, flashbacks with Sam's parents, and some background.

The movie would explain why Gideon and Sam haven't met up until this movie. It's because the brothers share a strong trait, fighting for justice. However, Gideon believes Sam's way of fighting for justice is absolutely wrong and can't stand to even be near the people around Sam, just like his comic version. Gideon could be at the press conference when Ross turns into the Red Hulk, could be the person who gets Isaiah out of prison, or sends Sidewinder to prison at the end of the movie. In the comics, Gideon ends up tracking down unregistered superheroes for a group that Rhodey is a part of. The second end credit scene (after the Leader tells Sam something big is coming) could be Gideon contacting Sam and telling him as his only favor because they are brothers, there is a person who he thinks Sam should really meet then *insert superhero here (hopefully Shang-Chi)* and Sam could say "I'm putting a team together".

Anyway, this is me rambling about an unexplored connection that is canon in the comics and established in the MCU that would stop the critique that BNW was a Hulk sequel and Sam was a side character. Even though I enjoyed the movie, I wish we got more of Sam's background because so far, it's not a lot.

[yourmommmmma12244]

Mpreg sinners headcanons

Smoke-

He’s carrying him and Annie’s baby duh 😒.

SFW ALPHABET HEADCANONS PREGNANT COUPLE EDITION (By Donnydamakkk)

A = ANXIETY “What makes them most anxious about becoming parents?”

Smoke was scared of becoming like his father. He really wants to break that abusive father generational trauma. While Annie was really happy to become a mom.

B = BIRTH “Do they have a birthing plan? What is it?”

All Elijah wants is Annie in the room. No one else just her. Probably not even the Mid-wife either at this point.

C = CONCEPTION “How was the baby conceieved? Was it hard? Was it expected? Had they been trying?”

It was planned but not this early on. It was supposed to be like later in life but things happen.

D = DADDY BLUES “Does the non birthing parents have any feelings that they haven't shared with the carrying parent?“

Annie wishes smoke would go to a professional back massager instead of asking her 24/7 to rub his aching back.

E = EXPECTED DELIVERY DATE “When is the baby carrying parent projected to give birth?”

Since he found out like January 31st so he thinks around October 31st the baby should be born.

F = FAMILY “How did the family react to the pregnancy?“

Stack Laughed in Smoke’s face thinking he was joking. When he realized he wasn’t he started cheering because he wasn’t the first to get pregnant.

G = GODPARENTS “Who do they select to be their baby's godparents?“

Bo and Grace because who wouldn’t want Bo and Grace as Godparents.

H = HEALTH “Is the carrying parent's health affected by the pregnancy?”

He has a bit of a weaker immune system than he’s used to but he’ll be fine. He also had to take those nicotine gums to stop smoking while pregnant.

I = INSECURE “Does the carrying parent carry any insecurities, relating to this pregnancy”

Back to the being like his dad thing. It’s been an insecure for a while and Annie recommended him to start writing stuff in a journal. (It worked)

J = JUNK FOOD “What are the carrying parent's pregnancy cravings?”

- Pickles

- Mango water ice (But only mango)

- Cheese pizza

- Cheese burgers

- Cheesesteak

- Cheesecake

- Anything with cheese in it

K = KIDS “Have they discussed whether or not they want more children?”

Smoke did before getting pregnant but during pregnancy he can’t stand the thought of doing it again.

L = LABOR “Did the delivery of the baby go smoothly?”

He went into Labor a day early but since it was kinda late into the day he delivered the baby on October 31st.

M = MARRIAGE “Are they married? Is it on the table?”

They got married when smoke was a month pregnant because why not.

N = NAMES “Have they chosen a baby name?“

Eliani. It’s kinda like a fem name version of Elijah.

O = ORPHANHOOD “Was adoption discussed?”

Yes. To be honest the option is still on the table.

P = PREPAREDNESS “How ready are they for the baby?“

Smoke was prepared. He started buying baby clothes before knowing the baby’s gender and started baby proofing the house.

Q = QUALITY TIME “What do they do to preserve and nuture their romantic relationship, in spite of being pregnancy?”

Pregnancy doesn’t mean shit to them. Smoke still insists that he can still do things while pregnant while Annie keeps telling him to be careful. (Because why are you trying to Rob people 6 Months pregnant.)

R = RAISING “How do they plan on raising their child?“

They want their kid to express themselves in good and healthy ways. They both are against putting hands on their child as punishment.

S = SEX “What do they think the sex of the baby will be?“

Smoke is 100% sure they’re having a girl and you can’t change his mind about it.

T = TERMINATION “Was abortion discussed?“

Yes. If it was a danger to Smoke’s health or if it was an abusive situation. But since it wasn’t they didn’t feel a need to.

U = UPBRINGING “How do their upbringings affect their feelings about becoming parents?”

Smoke being abusive is a bit fear of his. He got therapy and of course he’s fears didn’t go away but it’s manageable now.

V = VOLUNTEER “How willing is the non carrying parent to help out?“

Annie is everything to smoke. Wife, Best friend, Uber driver, Personal chief, Google, Doctor, Therapist, Back massager, Everything.

W = WORK “How does pregnancy affect their work lives?”

Apparently it dosent affect Smoke at all because he can pull a trigger while pregnant but can’t smoke or drink.

X = XCITEMENT “How do they celebrate the upcoming baby?”

Retail therapy.

Y = YOUTH “Do they have experience taking care of babies and children?“

Smoke used to watch Sammie from time to time and he and Annie both watched Lisa when she was younger.

Z = Zzz “How does pregnancy affect their sleep schedules?”

Smoke takes up most of the bed now and also kicks in he’s sleep. In the later stages of pregnancy he was woken up multiple times because of the baby kicking.

In short Smoke would be the type to be one and done pregnant. He hates the question “Are you gonna have more kids?” Because the answer would be No (unless adopted).

[sheithfictioncatalogue]

Hi!! I remember when the show first started airing there were all these fics about Shiro or Keith being put into a coma by an alien or plant, where one was dreaming that they were together and he had to fight the vision to escape and survive (cue lots of pining!)

I don't know how to tag this and so haven't been able to find many - do you happen to know any still out there? <3 much love for all you do!

There are a bunch that have the concept of one being stuck in a dream. These don't all have them dreaming that they're together - some have them already together - but they need the help of the other to get out of the dream.

The Road Not Taken - TruebornAlpha

Series. 31k. Gen-Explicit.

Shiro left for the Kerberos mission without ever telling Keith how he felt and he never came back. By the time they found each other again, Shiro was broken and scarred, a different person. But what if they had a chance to do it all over again? A story where Shiro and Keith get a second chance to correct all their past mistakes to create their perfect life together. But a perfect life isn’t always what it seems.

Searches - avidbeader

16k. Teen.

In honor of "Shiro loves you, baby"/#he is looking at keith Day, have my brainwave of what could happen at the start of S3. Shiro has disappeared. Keith isn't taking it at all well as he tries to lead Voltron.

Believe Me, For a Little While - unalignedant

8k. Teen.

Keith wakes up because a giant dog is licking his face.

while we were sleeping - bog gremlin

4k. Teen.

When one of Pidge’s experiments goes awry and Keith is trapped inside a lucid dream, Shiro submits to the same experiment in order to rescue him. But Keith’s dream is not what Shiro was expecting.

Sleep Perchance - zombiekitties

6k. Not rated.

“Must be,” Keith says agreeably. “Hey, I don’t have my datapad on me. What day is it? It’s hard to keep track, space to Earth time.” “Probably Tuesday,” Shiro laughs. Keith raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, just a private joke- it seems like every time I ask, it’s Tuesday. I must still be on space time too.” “Shiro.” Keith stops him, suddenly serious. “Do you ever feel… wrong?” Shiro frowns. “Wrong? What do you mean?” Almost unconsciously, Shiro’s Altean arm moves up to his opposite shoulder, fingers digging painfully into the joint. ~~ Or, Keith, Shiro, and a lovely little nightmare.

Parasite Dreams - NerdyNostalgia

4k. Teen. Contains: major character death.

Keith was sick, he was dying. A parasitic alien bug had latched onto him and sent him into a coma. No-one had been able to get him out and it was Shiro's turn to try. If they couldn't get him out of the dream then he would die. Could he do it? Could he reach Keith in time and save him?

Zero Hour - monstersinthecosmos

56k. Explicit.

“What do I know?” he whispers to himself. Focus. He remembers having surgery and getting a new arm, he remembers the trip to Earth. He remembers Sendak, remembers the lions crashing. Coma. But he thinks he remembers other things, too. The broken blood vessel in Keith’s eye, and the tender purple bruises. He remembers that Black called to him. Maybe she’s calling him now. ____________________ In which Shiro uses the Black Lion as a conduit to reach Keith in his coma and she encourages them to talk it out in the void.

Just Like Heaven - Cyan

16k. Explicit. Contains: major character death

Shiro had been having nightmares since his return from Kerberos. Something about aliens taking over the universe. It was nothing short of terrifying. Lucky for him, his life wasn't that exciting. It had been a day since the fight against Zarkon, and Shiro still hadn't woken up. Keith didn't know what to do.

[brownsuugahh]

Are you a man like that? Chapter 3.

A/N: Okay, so this chapter whoop my ass. I just didn't know how to knit this encounter to be close to something happeing but not really. Also, I knew Hennessy and Smoke and connected very deeply but we need to leave space for Stack and for Hennessy's internal conflict. I am heeavily reading everyone here to find inspiration on how to this better. But I guess I'll make on the way. On the other hand, you can tell english is not my first language just by me trying to convey different emotions and range with the same words, lol, a work in progress.

“Did you unpack already?” Said Wanda while she and Hennessy walked to the parking lot of the DA’s building.

“Most of it, yeah”, she snapped quickly, thinking exactly what she wanted to wear.

She was weirdly excited. The last time she went to a club was about 18 months ago, before the Mastroiani’s investigation started, and before she had to pause her life to dismantle that man criminal empire. So, this could probably the first and last time she partied before she jumped at the SmokeStack Twins case.

“Have you seen them?”, she looked at Wanda in the driver’s seat. Her dark skin glistened against the street lights, she had beautiful features, her eyes specially, charming eyes bright and convincing, a very short afro dyed blond and a very athletic figure. She was beautiful and strong.

“No, why?” Hennessy didn’t respond. She haven't stop thinking about them since she received the case, she look for them in social media and found pictures. They were vastly different, their clothes, their demeanor...

“They’re hot though”. A side smile formed in Wanda’s face while looking at Hennessy out the corner of her eyes.

Hennessy didn’t respond. An air of nervousness seem to filled the car.  Yes, they were hot, but more than that, they were beautiful in a broken kind of way. World had hardened them, but they also seem sad in their pictures, specially Smoke. Stack was another different thing; he smiled through the pain. She remembered the pictures, those piercing eyes who seemed to look only at her… a tingly sensation appeared in the middle of her folds, she bit her lower lip and just when a filthy thought was forming in her head a loud cackle brought her back to reality.

“Is okay Hennessy”, Wanda loudly retorted, “Them boys fine as hell”. The laugh stopped, and she turned to look at her with a heavy gaze, the twinkle of her eyes suddenly grew deeper. “Just don’t go there”.

“What do you mean?”, Hennessy asked with some concern in her voice. “Oh hon, you’ll see”.

____

It was a little after midnight.

Wanda and Hennessy had some dinner and got ready for a night at The Juke.

Hennessy wore an emerald green backless dress, curly hair loose and red lipstick. Her brown skin looked bright against the green and tightness of the dress that hugged every curve, a little pouch in the belly could be seen through the fabric and a shadow of her belly button was also evident, she loved it, she thought it was sexy and unique. The naked back of her dress emphasized the roundness of her ass, and her boobs peeked out just enough from the draped neckline of the dress.

“Dam girl, you clean up nice”, Wanda responded at her sight, while she bathed herself in lotion and Valentina by Valentino. “I could say the same about you”; a white strapless dress decorated the frame of Wanda's body with a slit in the right leg showing just enough to make her sexy. Her deep black skin even more profound in that color.

The drive to the club was quiet.

Hennessy was incredible nervous and horny. If this wasn’t a work thing, she probably took someone at home, but she is here just to look at some guys in their natural environment. She wanted to assess their weaknesses, who they talk to, how they talked to, how they moved in real life, how they smelled? She smiled to herself, thinking about this because it had been a while since she felt somewhat attracted to someone, sometwo?, and they had to be exactly the two guys she was meant to hunt down and put in prison.

A tale as old as time, a cliché. A story for romance books that weren’t even original… and yet, thinking about them make her feel warm inside. She wanted them, but knew perfectly she could not have them. However, for tonight they didn’t know her, they didn’t know she was there to take them down, for tonight and only for tonight she could tease.

____

The Juke was packed.

A long line of people waiting to be lucky enough to be let inside.

When Hennessy and Wanda arrived and cut the line straight to the hostess, Mary stare at them for a few seconds and then let them in.

Wanda grabbed Hennessey’s hand. Loud afro beats were played by a DJ, bodies clashing together to the music, purple and pink lights decorated the place, joy and freedom could be felt in the air and in Hennessy’s body, she wasn’t a dancer but felt like moving, she wasn’t a drinker but she really wanted a vodka soda, she wasn’t a flirt but desperately need it a tumble with a stranger. Upon arriving to the bar she asked for a soda with lemon and promise herself to let loose. Is jut one night.

“They usually stay in the balcony in the middle”, Wanda told Hennessey, “and they usually have a bunch of girls waiting outside their VIP”.

Hennessy turned around to look at the balcony and there he was looking straight at her Elijah “Smoke” Moore, vape in his hand, heavy and deep look and a mysterious aura that was both enticing and unsettling. She knew she got to go back to the bar, that she wanted to dance and canvas the place, that she wanted to observe the twin’s dynamic, but she just couldn’t stop looking at this man gaze on her body.

“Hen?”, Wanda’s voice pulled her from her mind (Smoke’s mind?). “Wanna go meet them?”

“What?”

“I mean; with the way you’re looking at each other…”

“WHAT?” you repeated again, as if two seconds ago your eyes weren’t locked on him.

“We came to see them, let’s go, let’s talk to them. You can test the waters before the war, they don’t even know who you are”.

Wanda was right, but she just didn’t trust herself enough to be around them.

She opened her mouth to say –no, let’s just leave it like that, is not ethical for me to approached them and she actually had a very compelling legal argument, however no sound left her mouth. A small laugh appeared in Wanda’s face, and she loudly scream “C’mon bitch, this not gonna happen again” and both of you end up on the second floor just outside Smoke and Stack VIP room.

____

The twins saw Hennessy and Wanda in the cameras that pointed the entrance hall.

Stack was jumping in the couch, yelling “BRO, BRO, SHE’S HERE, MOTHA FUCKA SHE IS HEREEEEEE”. A combination of excitement and fear in his voice. He told Mary through a walkie to let them in.

Smoke? That was a whole different thing.  

As soon as he heard Stack let them in he stood up to the balcony and started searching her in the crowd. A couple of seconds after that, she emerged in the middle of the dance floor. Her curly big hair flowing through the people, her hips slightly moving to the beat of the music. He had been seeing her for months in pictures and interviews and she was beautiful, but in real life… her smile illuminated the whole dance floor. At that point a need invaded his body, a yearning he hadn’t known so far, a flame was ignited in his chest… he had to have her.

He saw her at the bar, he saw her asking for a drink and then he saw her looking straight at him. Her brown eyes locked into him. Time felt like stopping. How come he didn’t know feeling like this was possible…

A few moments after, he lost her. She moved, she went running with her friend, he searched again in the crowd and didn’t find her. He looked at Stack confused, pouting like a child that just lost his favorite toy and then he saw Stack stand up to the door.

“Yo, Smoke, we have some guest” a huge grin decorated his face.

The small curtain opened and there they were. Hennessy in all her green glory and Wanda, shining through her white dress.

Stack kicked out the other girls and invited Hennessy and Wanda to sit.

“So, what can we do for a couple of fine ladies this evening?” Stack asked, being overly polite, almost unnecessarily.

“We just wanted to have a good time”, Wanda responded quickly.

Smoke stood at the balcony, looking at Hennessy. His heavy gaze roamed her body but locked in her eyes. She didn’t move either.

“Do you need us to leave you alone?” Wanda ask jokingly. Hennessy look at her in utter shock.

“Nah, we leaving”. Smoke grabbed her by her wrist and leave the room quickly.

Wanda tried to stopped them, hastily, however, Hennessey told her something and she let them go. They stomp out of there, a few minutes later their where in the back of a SUV.

“Where are we going?” he asked, and a hint of fear was in her voice.

“My house”, he answered point blank as if it was obvious, or natural, as if she belonged there.

She was not thinking straight. She knew she shouldn’t be there, but her body was making the decisions. That was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life. She need it him, she need it his hands in her body, his lips in theirs, she felt that she need it him to breath.

The drive was quiet. The tension could be cut by a knife. He didn’t look at her, but she never separated her eyes from his frame, she was afraid if she did she would go back to that club and never had the courage to go up the second floor.

After a mere seven-minute drive, they arrived to a loft. Open spaces, classic, filled with plants, music, it was weirdly warm and cozy, a lot of heavy fabrics and colors.

He went straight to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine.

“Sit”, he said coldly. She wasn’t able to question the instruction. She took a seat in front of him in the kitchen island.

“What are you doing at my club?”; he asked with zero expression in his face. “Dancing”, she responded flirting uncomfortably.

A sarcastic laugh appeared in his face. “So, you come to dance at enemy’s territory? I know for a fact you’re not stupid, so what's this?”. Fear appeared in her face. Looking at him directly she took a deep breath and somehow found the courage to talk. “So, you know who I am?”, she asked coyly.

He circled the kitchen island and got dangerously close to her. ”I liked to know my enemies Miss Hennessy Rodgers, from the 100. Your grandmother is a cleaning lady, your mother works as a secretary at a law firm and your cousin has a hair salon in the heart of the neighborhood. DA for the state of New York, you just put in jail Massimo Mastroiani and now you’re supposed to send my brother and me to the hole. Am I close?”

Hennessy lost it. He had named her family.

“Am gonna say this slow, so you can understand”, she looked straight at his eyes, lifting her head so she could reach his tall frame. “Let this be the first and last time you name my family Elijah”.

He violently reached their face by the chin, “you cannot call me Elijah, baby, you’re not mine yet”.

Her heart was throbbing, the word “yet” echoed in her mind. She wanted to kill him but also wanted for him to make her his. Her body was trembling, her breathing was shallow, she need it that filthy mouth sucking her folds and at the same time she wanted to throw him and his brother to prison and hide the key. She hated him the same way amounts she wanted him. Still she managed to find the strength to pushed him. He let go of her face, but didn’t move, instead the space between them seem to reduce.

“Tell me you don’t want me close to you, baby, asked me and I will send you home right now”. She knew that she had to go, she knew that tomorrow at work Wanda would tell everyone she left the club with Smoke Moore, her career was at risk. This was dangerous man, he was a criminal, a drug dealer, a scar in the face of her childhood neighborhood. She couldn’t want him and yet she was there feeling her insides creaming and craving for this man touch, she wanted to tell him to let her go and yet she stayed quiet.

He rubbed her nose against her temple. She could feel him, smell his scent at wood and tobacco, her skin began to tingle. “You’re beautiful, ya know that? I cannot stop thinking about you since I saw you for the first time”. He touched her face and then placed the tip of her fingers in her nipples. “Don’t touch me”, she muttered. “What’s that baby?”, he said growing even closer. Her legs started to open. “Your mouth said one thing and but your body… asked me, just asked me to sweet, sweet fuck you”.

She wanted it.

She was burning for it.

She couldn’t. What about her job, what about her mission, what about her family? Everything run through her mind at the same time.

But she was lost in his eyes, she could feel his engorged groin against her body and she need it him, she had a yearning and he was the answer.

“Just one time”, she said to herself, it was almost a whisper, a secret for her to be known, a desire she didn’t want anyone to know. She felt herself trembling, a struggle between wanting and her deep moral compass, was it that deep? After all she was there, she left that club with Elijah Smoke Moore, without any resistance. She took a seven-minute drive and didn’t even speak to him, like she had always belong there her whole life and all of the other things she had done were just ways to there.

“What was that baby?”, he said lifting his chin to him even closer. “Just one time” she repeated, this time, a little louder.

“Nah, ask me nicely”. It wasn’t common for her to receive instructions from a man. Actually it wasn’t common for her to spent time with any man at all. The occasional booty call was always in her terms, no speaking just a quick and effective orgasm and a see you never before riding a cab for the evening. Tonight, was something else. Resisting didn’t really make sense to her, she just wanted to give him everything. She need it to give him everything.

“Fuck me”, the words left her mouth, they came from her body not her mind. The competent lawyer, the professional DA that had come to Chicago to get herself a career didn’t exist, not tonight. 

He licked his lips and looked at her for a second. He lavished in her face, her lips and her elegant neck and her abundant chest. He grabbed by her legs and carried her to his bedroom. A dim yellow light covered the room and, the brightness of the city also came from the floor to ceiling windows. She was a complete nervous mess. She could feel her pussy wet, goosebumps all over her body, a feel of anticipation that was new.

He placed her in the bed, delicately, like she was a precious jewel, a treasure to be discovered.

She was eager and sad.

He kneeled in front of her. “You alright?”

Tears left her eyes. “I should not be here; I’m supposed to sent you to jail in the next few months. But I can’t stop thinking about you and your brother, since the first time I saw you in pictures, since I read your story”, she ran her hand over his face, slowly, she placed a finger in her lips and he closed his eyes. She kissed his temple, his eyes, the side of her lips. “I can’t be here”.

He thought about it for a moment. He knew she wasn’t being herself. The powerful women he had seen on tv was quiet and stiff, he didn’t want her like that, he wanted her to accept his offer of sin with complete surrender but with extreme ownership. He just wanted tears of pleasure in her eyes.

“I’ll sent you home baby, let’s go”.

She went inside the elevator but before she left, she looked straight to his eyes, “Elijah…you already mine”.

[the-amazeeng-idiot]

Aight, here we go

Last song: I think it was My Alcoholic Friends by The Dresden Dolls. I'm not sure though, I haven't listened to anything since my earphones broke three days ago (existence without music is torture)

Last movie: Lilo & Stitch. Kind of forced into it by my older sister after I told her I liked the live action. Very much enjoyed

Last book: Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes (someone tell Percy to stop being so funny, my diaphragm is running on my spite and a prayer)

Last TV show: Mayday: Air Disasters. My dad had an obsession over it about a year ago and I gave it a try. It became our tradition to watch an episode whenever I stay with him

Sweet/savoury/spicy: depends on my mood, but mostly sweet

Relationship status: single but not lonely, because I have my friends by my side and with them, I can survive any catastrophe that is thrown in my way! (Especially @anabetel35. She's the kindest and the coolest person in the whole mother mucking universe and who I'm platonically in love with)

Last thing I googled: "tmnt 2012 season 4 episodes list" to see how long until I finish it. I decided I'm marathoning everything from TMNT I can get my hands on this summer. (If you're wondering, yes, I can use the time in literally any other way I want, and no, I don't want to.)

Looking forward to: a DnD sleepover with my friends, simply because it's currently the closest interesting thing that'll happen. Though, like Anabetel, I'm also excited to see my friends again at pride

Current obsession(s): so many. Like, I can't even choose. (It's TMNT)

Tagging @chillinee @almostshadowystrawberry @unjudgmentalnoob @howtotrainyourdragonprince and anyone else who'd like to join!

Thanks for the tag @witchy-capri <33

Rules: Tag 10 people you want to get to know better.

Last song: ...Baby One More Time by the goddess herself Britney Spears

Last movie: Rush (2013) It's about rivalry in F1, good movie but it's more fun watching it with fujoshi lenses XD

Last book: Reading Making Money by Terry Pratchett but it's on hold due to obtaining um... this silly ecchi novel "I'm the Strongest Zombie in this World, but I Can't Beat This Girl!" XD

Last TV show: Ranma 1/2, the Netflix version (genderfluidity on another level!!!)

Sweet/savory/spicy: ALLLLLLLLL!!!!

Relationship status: In a committed relationship :)

Last thing I googled: "exploring synonym" I write sometimes ':D

Looking forward to: Seeing my gf again <3333333333

Current obsession(s): Yakuza has infected every part of my brain I am unwell I am having time of my live I have never expected to be so much into something I know so little about help

Tagging: @vectorofsins @eeriefeelingsat3amuwu @athenaspetsnek @sparkly-trashfire @the-second-visitor @just-a-gender-fluid-puddle @fuck-the-gender @no-soul-no-sleep @ohlooh @ctiren (no pressure :))

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??