#and two are trying to convince me to write it

[coralaura]

Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

[saintsenara]

Hi, do you have an analysis for why you prefer bottom Tom? Most fics have him as a top, but I'm very interested in your perspective ma'am.

well, the short answer is because i want to and because i can.

the longer answer is that i just don't find any of the arguments for why voldemort would never bottom under any circumstances to be as convincing and definitive as their proponents claim them to be.

my issue - to be clear - isn't with people having a preference for reading or writing about him being a top. it's with the fact that him only being a top - and not only that, but him being repulsed or humiliated by the idea of bottoming - is typically presented as such an objective fact that preferring to read or write about him being a bottom provokes responses which range from the simply annoying - "this is out of character!" [any fic in which he consensually shags his prophesied child-enemy is out of character, be serious] - to the genuinely troubling - "it's disgusting! voldemort is a real man and real men don't want anything up their arses!".

obviously - let's be real - a lot of the arguments about why bottom!voldemort is impossible are just typical "slash fandom reinvents gender roles" shit - they essentially boil down to "omg no harry would bottom because he's the girl".

but others do come with more weight behind them. and two of these are:

that the gender norms voldemort was raised with would inculcate in him a big lump of internalised homophobia which would make him see bottoming as feminine, and - in seeing it as feminine - see it as weak, humiliating, dependent, and incompatible with his understanding of control and power. that voldemort would be horrified by the idea of being penetrated, because he would see it as something which polluted or profaned the body he considers to be sacred.

i do think it's possible to argue both of these points robustly, using actual readings of the text rather than just vibes. i've just never found any of these readings compelling.

and the reason why all comes down to this:

"I knew I was different," he whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something." [HBP 13]

he's talking about something specific - how he's always known that he's a wizard - here, of course. but we can also take this statement and use it to think more generally about how he views being perceived as deviant, strange, or wrong by the norms of the society in which he lives.

by which i mean... he's somebody who believes that being different makes him special and that people who try to punish or shame him for his difference are idiots who simply haven't yet worked out that he's superior to them in literally everything he does. he's not someone who perceives being different in a self-flagellating way - he doesn't think there's something wrong with him, he doesn't think that his difference makes him a pathetic or unimpressive person. and he's also not somebody who views being criticised or punished for his difference as something which causes him sorrow or anxiety. it causes him rage - because it inconveniences him [it creates obstacles he has to overcome, although he entirely believes he can overcome them] and because it doesn't recognise his self-conception as the protagonist of reality:

Riddle's reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. "You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!"   "I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -" "I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle. "Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"   "I'm not mad!" [HBP 13]

you can entertain a very dark reading of this scene - in fact, i have - but it's also possible to entertain a liberating one, and see the child voldemort as someone who has always been proud of his difference and prepared to defend that pride in the face of censure, and who is absolutely delighted to be given the language to define and describe his difference and to be given access to a community of people who are similarly - in his words - special.

all of which is to say... the standard interpretation in fandom seems to be that a queer voldemort would fall somewhere on a spectrum from indifferent to his sexuality to actively ashamed of it.

but i think it's much, much more plausible that he'd actually be proud of it, and for his statement - "i knew i was different... i knew i was special" - to be used as the starting point for how we might imagine him realising that he's queer.

and this is why the "he'd have so much internalised homophobia he'd never bottom" argument always falls flat for me - it rests on an assumption that queer men having to grow past a childhood/teenage fear that there's something wrong with them is the default position. it overlooks the fact that there are many ways for somebody to come to understand their own sexuality.

and that two of those ways are "defiantly" and "spitefully". aka the lord voldemort special.

something which always stands out to me about the canonical voldemort, both when he's a good-looking teenager/young man and a monstrous, serpentine adult, is that - even with all the phallic symbolism which surrounds him [enormous snakes and ultra-powerful wands and so on] - the text presents him as somebody who comes across as fairly effeminate:

he's typically described - as we can see from this excellent analysis from @said-snape-softly - as speaking "softly" or "quietly". when he isn't, he's often "shrill", "shrieking", "screeching", or "screaming".

he has a hair-trigger temper and he's extremely emotionally volatile.

he's typically described as moving in ways which have similarly feminine connotations - he "drifts" and "glides". while the primary doylist reason for this is clearly so the reader associates him with snakes, ghosts, and dementors, it ends up giving him a quality of movement which is fey, rather than powerful and purposeful. indeed, we only ever see him do one thing which requires physical, as well as magical, prowess - duelling. but, like fencing - which is its real-world equivalent - good duellists aren't people who are physically strong or imposing, they're people who are cunning and nimble [and the other men the text emphasises are good at it are snape, flitwick, and harry - with harry's quick reflexes being explicitly given as a reason why [i.e. GoF 34] ]. his ability to fly is a demonstration of his magical power alone, since it allows him to circumvent the need to use a broom, which does appear to require physical strength [hence why the only main characters who aren't fond of using brooms are either women or fat, cowardly little boys like neville...]

building on this, he's often described in ways which make him sound quite physically fragile - he's very thin, he's very pale, he's always cold, every time his heartbeat is described it seems to be irregular and so on.

his reputation in his teens and young adulthood is as a "polite [and] quiet" goody-two-shoes who "showed no sign of outward arrogance or aggression at all" [HBP 17]. i think that point about aggression is really important - it builds on what mrs cole tells dumbledore about it being "very hard to catch him" bullying other orphans [HBP 13]. he's not dudley - or james and sirius - using his physical talents to subdue and control people. he's sneakier... more insidious... indeed, in chamber of secrets, ron explicitly compares him to percy - somebody else the text presents as fairly effete - in order to complain about him "squealing" - aka, running to tell a teacher, like a girl, instead of settling things like a man - on hagrid [CoS 14].

when he's a young man, living alone for the first time, the text thinks it's very important to tell us that he has "slightly longer hair" than he does at school [HBP 20]. "slightly" is obviously the operative word here - i don't think he's strutting into hepzibah smith's house in a twenty-four inch lace-front - but we can certainly imagine him with the sort of greaser or pompadour haircut which was understood in the 1950s as being a bit counter-cultural...

of the five horcruxes which are objects - rather than harry and nagini [who is, of course, female] - three [cup, diadem, locket] originally belonged to a woman and are acquired from a woman, two [cup, locket] are acquired by killing a woman using a stereotypically female murder method [poison], two are connected to voldemort's rage at his mother being disparaged [locket - he's furious to hear hepzibah say that merope must have stolen it, ring - he attacks morfin immediately after morfin calls his mother a "slut"]. and all five of these horcruxes also depend on women to introduce them into the narrative in a way that facilitates their destruction: the diary is given to ginny; dumbledore puts on the ring in order to speak to his sister; the locket is associated both with walburga's grief [it's literally moved from the cave - voldemort's grave for his mother - to the house which is walburga's own tomb!] and with umbridge's performance of femininity; the cup is given to bellatrix [and the text is very clear that both she and voldemort understand it as having only been given to her, rather than to her and rodolphus] and is then destroyed - albeit off-stage - by hermione; and harry is given the tools to acquire the diadem by cho, luna, and mcgonagall, although he has to overcome the obstacles of alecto carrow and helena ravenclaw to get hold of it. harry - of course - also only becomes a horcrux because of a woman - lily's - sacrifice.

his favourite death eaters are a woman and a very feminine-coded man. but - more interestingly - what the text finds unimpressive isn't that he likes bellatrix and snape... it's that he leaves a lot of his dirty work to male minions who are characterised by their brutish strength - people like greyback, hagrid [who he makes carry harry up to hogwarts], rowle, gibbon, amycus carrow and so on. there's the heavy implication in the text that voldemort's preference for leaving the violence to others - as i'm always pointing out, his canonical kill count is really low; most of the murders in the series are done by other death eaters acting on his orders - is something we should see as weak.

the text associates him with this effeminacy - i think it's really important to note, given who jkr is - as a criticism. it's something - much like the text's presentation of him as aromantic, and the fact that the degradation of his looks via the creation of the horcruxes makes him look sexless/eunuch-like - being used to underscore his villainy. he's feminine-coded in a toxic way.

but let's take this in another direction [and let's also return to the actual question you asked me...] and read him as someone who has always had to deal with being perceived as queer by other people, and having that perception be associated with negative assumptions.

he's very easy to imagine as a child/teenager who's the target of ridicule from his fellow orphans/fellow students [for not being sporty, for liking to sit in the library for hours on end coming up with anagrams of his own name, for the way he walks and speaks] which hinges on the idea that his failure to conform to the expected conventions of "proper" masculinity mean that he's not a proper man... and that if he's not a proper man then... he's not straight.

but then we have to come back to the "i knew i was special" point, don't we?

voldemort's belief in his own superiority can - in my view - be used to read him as somebody who would embrace being camp or effeminate or whatever term we want to use, in order both to express his contempt for people who criticise him ["think i'm a messed up little deviant, do you, mrs cole? well, you don't know the half of it!"] and who conform to social norms he thinks are reprehensible ["oh, do purebloods frown upon bottoming, abraxas? well - guess what - so do muggles. do you agree with what muggles think?"] and to humiliate, subjugate, and control them ["you think i'm a faggot, do you...? well, you're right... i'm a faggot who's defeated you in battle and now i'm about to kill you... still feel like a man?"].

while - obviously - appearance/gender presentation has nothing to do with preferred sexual roles - the manliest men on earth can be bottoms! being femme doesn't prevent you topping! - i really do think that voldemort is someone who can be written entirely canon-coherently as thinking that the homophobic perception of bottoming as weak, powerless, or humiliating is complete nonsense, and who would actively flaunt his rejection of this perception as a way to mock people who subscribe to it.

after all, we see him do something similar in canon when it comes to his blood-status and social class. the death eaters - lots of whom are posh pureblood men who conceive of themselves as the most important people in the universe - are made to kneel at the feet of and kiss the robes of and be branded like cattle by and be at the beck and call of someone who's neither pureblood nor posh. there are - as lupin tells us - no wizarding princes... and yet the closest things the wizarding world has to an aristocracy are rolling around on the ground debasing themselves and calling a half-blood orphan "my lord".

voldemort does this to humiliate them. but he also does this to amuse himself - à la logan roy making men who've displeased him play "boar on the floor".

[wormtail being forced to care for him when he's in his half-form at the start of goblet of fire, for example. he's not humiliated in the slightest by his dependence on wormtail... wormtail is humiliated by it, and voldemort finds it hilarious.]

and so i think we can plausibly imagine him also deeply enjoying making his straight, married, "i would die before i let anything near my arse", "i'm not getting changed for quidditch with so-and-so there, he's queer", "i'd disown my son if i found out he let other men fuck him" death eaters grovel for the favour of someone who loves getting railed...

this deeply aligns with how voldemort understands things like power and control - and it's why the argument that he'd only top because he would regard it as the only way of being powerful and controlling never hits for me.

because this also rests on an assumption - that the bottom always understands themselves as the passive partner. i do think the fandom is broadly getting better at recognising that bottoms and submissives are different things [although the bar was on the floor...], but i think there's still a tendency to default to the idea that the two people involved in sex are an active partner and a passive partner, and that the passive partner is - for want of a better term - the receptacle.

the language used around bottoming reinforces this assumption. its voice is passive - the bottom is penetrated, is bred, is fucked, is taken - its verbs are passive too - the top does, the bottom receives.

but the thing is... this is just semantics. and it's a semantic argument directly rooted in misogyny, and the homophobia which stems from and connects to it.

and - since it's just semantics - we can change the language we use at any time to completely reconfigure the assumed power dynamic.

the bottom grants access. the bottom consumes. the bottom takes. the bottom absorbs. the bottom uses. the bottom captures. the bottom detains. the bottom grips. the bottom devours. the bottom permits. the bottom destroys.

the top is the person who's passive - who receives permission, who is granted access, who is consumed, who is absorbed, who is captured. the top is the person having their life-force leached from them. they're just a toy, just a piece of meat. they literally don't matter.

and the text already uses this sort of language - the language of consumption and capture and permission to cross thresholds and so on - to talk about voldemort's attitude to power, magic, and the body.

he drains the blood of unicorns; he uses up the life-force of the people and animals he possesses; he grows stronger by consuming ginny's secrets; he is restored to his body by taking from his father, wormtail, and harry; he takes the money dumbledore offers without feeling the need to thank him or regard it as a gift; he offers up gifts to people he wants to use for his own gain; he "doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors" [OotP 6]; he hoards and conceals precious things; his soul is kept safe by being encased by the horcruxes; his locket is guarded by something which has to be drunk, which destroys anyone who assumes they can simply take it without his permission; he "would be glad to see anything miss hepzibah shows me" [HBP 20] and then seizes her secrets and uses them to bring about her doom; his descent from slytherin is proven by his control of the threshold of the chamber of secrets; he places himself and his talents at dumbledore's disposal, "i am yours to command" [HBP 20]; he controls snakes and they do his bidding; he drains the ministry of its secrets; he controls the dementors, who devour joy; augustus rookwood "has lord voldemort's gratitude... i shall need all the information you can give me" [OotP 26]; he is the greatest legilimens - that is to say, he is excellent at pulling other people's secrets into his own mind and using them as he wishes - the world has ever seen; he has seen ron's heart and it is his; his followers live to serve him...

his followers are called death eaters, not death fuckers.

and so it's inarguable, really, that he'd have a legion of service tops under his command...

[honeyedmiller]

Midnight Showing

joel miller x f!reader

rating: none

synopsis: you take joel to his first ever midnight movie premiere.

word count: 783

warnings: no outbreak!joel, spoilers for a thirteen year old movie, brief descriptions of a gory (?) scene, fluff. no use of y/n.

a/n: this is my submission for @yxtkiwiyxt ’s never have I ever writing challenge. I got “never have I ever been to a midnight movie premiere” for Joel as the prompt <3

-

NOVEMBER 12, 2012

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Joel grumbles.

You just look back at him and give him a heart-stopping grin, tugging him by his hand intertwined with yours as you walk down the sidewalk toward the movie theater.

Through a silly drunken game of never have I ever a few nights back, you found out that Joel had never been to a midnight movie premiere.

So, naturally, you convince him to join you to see the most anticipated movie of the year: the Twilight saga, Breaking Dawn part two.

You tried to explain the lore of the whole series to Joel while he drove you both to the theater, but to his dismay, he could barely keep up.

You stand in line and to Joel’s surprise, there’s a lot more couples here than he anticipated. He thought it would be a bunch of teenage girls with ‘Team Edward’ or ‘Team Jacob’ on their shirts.

Instead, he found groups of friends excited about the movie, and men looking a little distraught that they’re forced to watch this ‘girlish’ movie with their significant others.

He takes one look at you and his heart cracks open and melts to a puddle on the floor. You’re giddy, and he loves to see you so happy, so going to see this with you is without a doubt in his mind one hundred percent worth it.

Anything to make his girl happy.

You get your tickets and head to the concession counter inside, getting a large popcorn and a couple of boxes of candy with a large cherry icee to share.

You take your seats and cozy up next to Joel, and his curiosity is suddenly piqued.

“So are you team Eddie or team Jason… whatever their names are?”

You laugh at his question and misstatement of their names, but a smirk tugs at your lips as you meet his curious gaze.

“I’m team Charlie and team Carlisle.”

The girl beside you nods vigorously.

“Hell yeah. Amen to that,” she says, and you both share a fit of giggles.

The cogs in Joel’s head are turning, and he’s wracking his brain trying to remember who the hell they are.

He’s about to ask you, but the lights dim and the previews start rolling. Guess he’ll have to find out in a bit.

You can’t help but look over at Joel in the midst of the movie, only to find that he’s just as invested in this as you are. You roll your lips into your mouth to stifle a laugh and turn your head back to the screen.

Then the fight scene comes on. The whole theater is invested with what Alice is trying to show Aro to prove Renesmee’s condition and that the Cullens didn’t commit a crime.

The whole theater is in a frenzy the next minute later when Aro is holding Carlisle’s decapitated head in his hand, and all hell breaks loose on screen.

“That didn’t happen in the book!” Someone shouts.

“What the fuck?!” Another person says, confusion clear as day in their tone.

So many different reactions and horrified gasps are heard throughout the theater, and the thrill of experiencing this with everyone else is unexplainable.

“Holy shit,” you hear Joel say, and you turn to look at him with a stunned expression. Popcorn and candy forgotten, he’s leaning forward in his seat with a concentrated expression, and you watch the fight ensue until Aro’s head is ripped off and burned.

Then everything warps back to Alice proving Bella and Edward’s innocence to Aro, with everyone standing completely still.

Everyone goes nuts in the theater, energy ramped up to a ten as they try to grasp what the hell just happened.

Talk about a fucking insane plot twist.

The rest of the movie plays out, and it’s after two in the morning when everyone leaves the theater completely satiated by how the series ended—heartfelt and bittersweet.

Joel’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder as you two exit the building to walk back to his truck, and you lace your fingers with his.

“Sooo what did you think? How was your first ever midnight movie premiere?”

You see the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Eh, it was cool. Whatever,” he shrugs, acting nonchalant.

You burst out in laughter, knowing he’s completely full of shit right now and he totally enjoyed himself.

You get to his truck and he opens the passenger door for you, kissing your temple before you climb in.

He pauses before he closes your door with a smug smirk playing at his lips.

“By the way, I’m way better looking than Charlie or Carlisle.”

-

hope you enjoyed <3

[starconstruction]

I really love your 🌙 smut, as a f-reader, I like how you consider f-reader as well in the kinks post, even it’s for m-reader I still like it so much , I want to see more about cosplay kink of jinsoul hehe~ I do think her fav one is student and teacher (because she love school uniform a lot🥰)

Classroom Cosplay

Allow me to give you some more Jinsoul cosplaying, i was going to do both readers for these thoughts but i didnt have the motivation.

I'll keep writing female readers for non fic asks, because it doesn't require it to be wrote twice. If im suggested any really good f!reader fics i might do them but they seem to be less popular so idk.

Smut Tags: Classroom, uniform kink, clothed sex, table sex, blowjob, creampie, rough, cosplay.

wc:1111, not proof read.

The faux classroom wasn't majorly convincing, but it would do. You had rearranged the guest room, scrapping the bed in place of tables. Buying a cheap whiteboard which had hastily drawn equations on it, the walls painted a soft beige. The walls had several pieces of paper on it, class work that Jinsoul had written in her last year of college.

You were sat at your desk, the "lesson" just concluded. The phantom students walked out the door, Jinsoul was about to join them. But you couldn't let that slide. "Jinsoul. Come here." You spoke firmly, gesturing at the desk in front of you. Jinsoul complied, sitting on the wooden surface.

She was wearing her last year college uniform, a black skirt that had well and truly rode up her legs. Giving you a view of her lace panties, her white shirt was mostly obscured under the accessories. A black tie laid on her chest surrounded by a grey and maroon cuffed blazer. Her hair was in a neat ponytail, she always looked beautiful but she was in her element here.

"What do you want professor?" Her voice turned the sweetness up to 100. Like she was innocent and not a class disrupting bitch. "You keep disrespecting me, distracting others and disrupting the class." You barked, "What do you have to say for yourself!" You felt strong in this moment.

Jinsoul paused, pretending to give a fuck. Tapping her fingers into the desk, "Oh nooooo.. I'm so sorrryyy." Your chest tightened as you got up from your desk, you towered over her body trying not to fly into a fit of rage. "You are a disrespectful pest." You breathed, Jinsoul smiled in your face. "If I've been such a bad girl, why don't you punish me?" She said, a gaze of defiance over her face. "Fine, I'll give you another essay to do."

Her smile disappeared, "No professor.. Not like that." Jinsoul grabbed your hand, pressing your long fingers against her panties. Now slightly wet as she fell into character. "Like this, if I'm such a bad girl make me regret it." She gasped.

"Oh really now?" You said, rubbing her clothed cunt. Her body reacted to your touch, gasping as her legs started to close in pleasure. "Yes professor..." That wasnt going to do, she had to learn. "Call me sir." You demanded, pulling her tie against her neck. Her lips met yours with the taste of flavourless sugar. Jinsoul's hand wondered against your slacks. Fingers brushing against your clothed hardness, they started to rub as Jinsoul kissed harder into your mouth.

You two pulled away from each other's lips, a string of shared saliva connecting you two. Jinsoul's pink tongue sliced it up as she looked at you expectantly, "Sir, are you going to punish me or what?" She smirked, baiting a reaction out of you like she was dangling fish food. "You fucking slut." You growled.

In an instant hands found her legs, roughly shoving her into the floor as she fell on her knees on the ground next to you. A yelp of surprise came from her sensational mouth, now inches from your clothed dick. "You want a punishment so bad?" You asked, Jinsoul nodded eagerly. "Then you'll fucking get one." You unzipped your pants, boxers falling suit with your cock firmly pressing against her mouth.

"You will take everything I give you." Before Jinsoul could react you forced yourself into her mouth, eyes widening as your length was firmly inside. She was warm and inviting, saliva coating your cock as her tongue was dragging against the bottom of your shaft. Every bump brought a whirlwind of pleasure, Jinsoul's cheeks tightened as they hollowed out.

"Such a great throat for a good slut.." You moaned, but if she wanted a punishment she was going to have it. You monuvered her body, pushing her against the throat of your desk. Still planted deep inside her mouth, the new angle gave you deeper access into her college mouth pussy. Slamming into the students throat "God, your slutty throat takes me so well.." You groaned, her eyes pooled with tears as your cock hit the back of her mouth. Sliding down her throat as you pulled back and forth, "You want my cum in your stomach?" She tried to nod, struggling against the frequent assault. "Too bad, you don't deserve it in anywhere but that cunt of yours." You moaned, her hands trapped against her side as you used her.

You grew bored of her greedy throat, pulling out the slick cavern. Saliva dripped against the floor as your cock was now dirty in her spit. Jinsoul started to catch her breath, heaving as she coughed up more saliva onto the carpet. Your hand grabbed her collar, picking her up as she looked at you with a pitch black lust. "Sir.. I'm so wet, please.." Her voice was whiny, hand tugging at your shirt. "Fuck me." You had to comply, cleaning off the desk as the equipment rained down onto the floor.

Jinsoul fell against the desk, body hitting the surface as she laid there. "I'm going to keep this uniform on you slut." The way she looked in her uniform was irresistible, moving the soiled fabric between her legs to the right, cock rubbing against the eager folds. Soft and supple as it coated your tip, you lined up with her hole. "I'm going to penetrate this cunt, make you regret ever disrupting my class." You pressed in. A shared moan erupting in the classroom as you entered her tightness.

You and Jinsoul had sex several times before, she was always tight but this was different. Clenching against your cock, suffocating it as you were drowned in her juices. This angle made it hard to thrust into her, an uphill battle that was rewarded with hitting her g-spot. "Yes s-sir! Ram that cock into me!" She begged, locking eyes with you as you entered and left her gripping walls. Balls slamming against the desk as you thrusted into her wanton body.

"Jinsoul!" You accidentally called her name, hand reaching towards her mouth. "Open up." Her mouth complied, finger weaseling in as her tongue licked it. Sucking on your digit as you slammed into her crotch, cunt reddening as every slap of your body drove her wild.

Her earlier head made you sensitive under the cunt of your student. "I'm gonna cum!! Fuck!" You blew into her body, spurts of semen shot up into womb as you pulled out, dripping onto the classroom ground.

"Thank you Y/N, you are an excellent actor." She said, kissing you passionately.

[prettyshittywriting]

Could u write yan Wednesday with a soft shy reader who doesn’t know how to accept her attention but she can tell reader wants to?

-🎀

omgg before I start hi??? not me coming out of a retirement on a random Thursday after a year!!??? anyway you prob DO NOT still want this but I wanna make it anyway😪 I'm sorry for it taking this long💗💗💗

Yandere Wednesday Addams x shy reader

Wednesday is... intense, to say the least. No matter what she's doing, she's always fixated on it. And fortunately (or unfortunately), you have become Wednesday Addams’ new obsession.

You're a new student at Nevermore, and you still haven't gotten to know many people. It's not that you don’t want to—you’re just a bit shy, preferring to keep to yourself. You don’t mind the quiet. This is probably what initially attracted Wednesday to you.

When she first saw you, she didn’t think much of it. But the more she noticed you sitting alone, the more intrigued she became. Why were you always so quiet? Eventually, Enid caught on after realizing that Wednesday was too busy staring at the new girl to listen to a word she was saying. At some point, you caught on too.

Obviously, you had heard about Wednesday’s reputation—everyone had. And, safe to say, you were terrified. Who wouldn’t be? You started avoiding her like the plague. Of course, she noticed. You weren’t friends, but she could tell every time you practically ran in the opposite direction whenever she looked at you.

After about a week of this, Wednesday got sick of it. She decided to confront you. But, since this is Wednesday Addams, of course, she couldn't be normal about it.

That’s when the gifts outside your room started appearing. A box of chocolates here, a flower there—all accompanied by a note with nothing on it but “Wednesday” in beautiful handwriting.

Safe to say, you were very confused. She had been practically glaring at you for weeks, and now she was giving you candy? Weird.

After receiving your fifth rose in a week, you decided to confront her. After a class you shared, you somehow mustered the courage to approach the Wednesday Addams and ask why she was gifting you so much. You didn’t know what you expected, but it definitely wasn’t for her to tell you that she couldn't stop thinking about you—for reasons even she couldn’t comprehend.

Obviously, you were weirded out. You thanked her for the gifts and asked her to stop before turning to walk away. But before you could take two steps, she grabbed your hand and dragged you into the woods in complete silence as you begged her to let go.

After what felt like an eternity of being dragged like a ragdoll, she finally stopped and told you everything—how she had been obsessed with you ever since you arrived, why she had been sending you gifts, and how she hadn’t meant to scare you. She just wasn’t very good at communicating.

She attempted to apologize—then promptly demanded that you two were dating. It would have been cute if she hadn’t just forcibly dragged you away, making you think you were about to die.

After a lot of convincing, you reluctantly agreed to give her a chance—but begged her not to be weird about it next time.

In the relationship, she would be overly protective and possessive, but she would at least try to get better at communicating… somewhat.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I hope this is good omg I right like I'm 13😪

hope you still enjoyed it anyway yalll😪💗

feel free to leave requests😪💗

[notapradagurl7]

90s method man fic ? i see you write about him currently but i want one from like 95 😩😩 pleaseee

Love To Give.

Black!OC!plus size X Method Man

Summary: You were supposed go out with your friends to movies when in reality you bump into a familiar rapper, leading to something more.

Warnings: smut, praise, fluff, oral(fem receiving) fingering, tiny sexual innuendo, strangers to friends to lovers, consensual for both parties, counter sex, kinda messy sex.

Taglist: @mermaidchansons @megamindsecretlair @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert

@5starr-staciii

@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla

@yassbishimvintage

@musicisme333

@chaoticcoffeequeen @saturnville

@enchantedillumination @kaylalb @mogul93

@theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @fakxmbj @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani

@mama-2001

@ororosdaughter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house

@miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest-

@tforpresz

@uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn

@secretlifeoofmarpessa @planetblaque @hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe @catxo @brattyfics @cocooned-butterfly @charismablu

                     ——

            (1995.)

She strolled down the grey sidewalk towards the towering dust-colored building, her jet-black heel sandals clicked with each step. Above her head, the blue sky was adorned with cirrus clouds, while her brown pupils were fixed on her friend, who she had finally convinced to hang out with her today after her mom's hesitant approval.

As she walked, her ears were greeted with the rhythmic sounds of Big L, A Tribe Called Quest, Biggie Smalls, Jay-Z, MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, Nas, and Wu-Tang Clan. The music was emanating from a boom box held by a young brown-skinned male sitting on a dark green bench. He bopped his head to the beats, lost in the music.

Lisa wandered the streets of New York, she scanned the bustling crowds for her friend. The warm sun beat down on her shoulders, making her thankful for the light fabric of her sundress. Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out, "Lisa!!!" Imani's beaming face greeted her, arms spread wide in greeting. She looked stunning in her form-fitting pink sundress, which accentuated her curves. "Are you all set to go?" Imani asked with a raised eyebrow, ready for their plans to unfold.

"Yes, I have everything I need, Lisa waved her off, with a nod and the two friends continued their stroll, exchanging smiles. They were almost at the street that led to the bodega when Lisa accidentally bumped into someone. Imani halted and spoke up, "Lisa, I need to grab something for the movie." She paused as she realized that her friend had bumped into someone.

Startled by the sudden interruption, Lisa's gaze was immediately drawn to the towering figure before her. His baggy dark blue denim jeans, grey tee shirt, well-trimmed beard, and deep brown eyes made for a striking combination. Before she could even apologize, the person spoke up with a raspy, masculine tone and a New York accent. "My bad shorty, I didn't look where I was goin'."

Imani's hands flew to her mouth as she exclaimed, "No way, you're Method Man!" Lisa blushed, feeling nervous as she introduced herself. "Um, hi, I'm Lisa."

Clifford asked if they were busy, adding, "My bad, I don't want to interrupt your plans with your friend." Both women shook their heads, indicating they had no plans.

"I was planning on hanging with my friend but I think I might cancel them." Lisa replied flirtily, her pearly whites sunk underneath her bottom fully glossed lips.

"For Method Man, girl? But We—" Lisa suddenly hushed her with her palm. Rolling her eyes, Lisa groaned and chimed in, "We have no plans, right?" She giggled, but Imani wasn't amused. Swatting her friend's arm, Lisa smacked her lips in response. "You owe me," she grumbled.

Trying to make it up to her friend, Lisa whispered, "Don't worry, Mani. We can hang out next weekend. I got you." She reassured Imani that they would spend time together soon.

As Lisa and Clifford collided, a spark ignited, and their connection grew stronger every day. They spent countless hours chatting face-to-face and on the phone, even causing her mother's phone bill to skyrocket. After meeting her mother, they started dating and discovering each other's passions.

Lisa's cozy apartment had a medium-sized living room, furnished with a sleek black suede couch where Clifford flipped through channels with his jet-black remote. The room was painted a calming light green, creating a serene atmosphere.

Lisa finished cooking as she placed the food in Tupperware containers for Clifford and her to eat, the tip of his tongue ran across his shut lips from the tangy scent of the food and the curves on her body. Clifford stepped off the couch and strolled into the kitchen, a grin plastered on his face.

Clifford's lips curled into a smirk as he let out a seductive plea, "Baby I'm hungry, come over here quick." she spun around and gestured to the food containers.

Lisa responded with a playful roll of her eyes. "Boy, I already cooked the food," she replied, before Clifford pulled her into him, planting kisses on her lips, cheeks, and the pudge on her stomach twice. His hands cupped her face tenderly to make her gaze into his eyes.

"I ain't talkin' about the food yo."

Lisa's bare back pressed firmly against the luxurious black suede couch cushions, her legs extended upwards and resting on Clifford's muscular shoulders. His arms were locked underneath her thighs as he buried his face in between her thick legs, his tongue flicking over her throbbing clit. As he continued to pleasure her, his slender fingers slid in and out of her wet core, causing Lisa to cry out in ecstasy.

"Shit! Clifford!" she screamed, her legs clamping around his face as he moaned in appreciation of her sensitive pussy. Removing his fingers, Clifford replaced them with his tongue, teasing her with his lips and working his way up and down her sensitive folds. Lisa reached down and tangled her fingers in Clifford's hair, pulling him deeper into her as he continued to pleasure her in all the right ways.

Her fingertips dug deep into the back of his neck, leaving scratches in her trail as his raspy, low groans filled her wet folds. His fingers were soon replaced with his lips, and Cliff murmured in delight, "You taste so fuckin' good, baby." His head swayed messily from side to side as he lapped up her love juices that trickled down his jawline, hungrily savoring her like it was his last meal. He loved every sound she made, every expression of pleasure, and her moans only grew louder as he pleasured her.

With his slender fingers slipping back into the wetness between her thighs, Clifford used his left hand to knead her erect nipple. Her eyes fluttered back as he curled his fingers at just the right spot, making her walls clench and her hips grind against his digits. "You're so wet for me," he whispered, relishing in the pleasure he was giving her. Lisa couldn't contain herself, chanting "Oh shittt!" as the pleasure overflowed through her body, sending chills down her spine.

Her legs were sore and twitching in her lover's grasp, unprepared for the knot that suddenly curled up in her stomach. Her juices splattered onto his face, but Clifford quickly cleaned up the mess with a paper towel. Smirking at her dazed look, he knew he had just given her an unforgettable experience.

She playfully pecked his lips twice and added a sly grin. "How about I make you breakfast tomorrow?" He hummed, her hands gently resting on his shoulders. "Oh, I like the sound of that," she chuckled, his arms snaking around her waist, his lips brushing against her ear.

She blushed, feeling his palm roughly smack her plump ass causing a squeal to escape her lips. "Not now, my legs are sore," she whined, pouting at him. He pulled back and cupped her face, pecking her forehead. "I'll draw you a hot bubble bath, shorty," he added, seeing her blush shyly. As he sauntered into the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel grateful for such a loving partner.

—————-

[queercontrarian]

part two of my abandoned wips featuring sapphic archeron sisters for @sjmprideweek: this is from a fic where feyre and mor are vampires which i was going to write for @sjmromanceweek 2024 (if i remember correctly, it's been a while). the whole story outline is under the cut, enjoy.

the story starts out in the early 1900s in a small town in the US. mor is supposed to enter an arranged marriage to eris vanserra, but when she is left alone for just a moment on the morning of her wedding, she runs away. she nearly makes it, but by the side of the road to the next bigger city she is found and attacked by an older vampire, amarantha. confused and not yet realizing that she is now undead, mor accepts defeat and decides to go back to her family who are still looking for her. she goes to her cousin rhysand's house intending to seek refuge there, and is greeted by her cousin, his brothers and his cousin's girlfriend, feyre. as a newborn vampire mor quickly loses control, killing her cousin and his brothers and turning feyre into a vampire like herself. feyre is devastated at first, and to convince her to accept their new life and mor's affection, mor goes out and bring her the head of her abusive former boyfriend as a first courting gift. feyre accepts. over the years these morbid gifts become their anniversary tradition. while they usually kill mostly for the blood, they give each other one fun kill a year. the first year it is mor's father, the next a vendor who had wronged feyre's father when he was still alive, and so on. they try to find eris too to terrorize him and his family, only to find out the vanserras have been attacked by the same vampire who killed mor and are all dead. the only exception is eris, who was also turned and fled to europe, and one of his younger brothers. mor and feyre leave town when rhysand's younger sister, by now the only surviving member of the family, sends a vampire hunter after them. after this incident, their new goal is finding and killing amarantha, the original vampire who seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. decades later in the 70s they are contacted by eris via his last surviving relative, his grand-nephew lucien, who lets them know that amarantha is back in america. they track her down and find her in new york, where finally they kill her together and feyre gets to present mor with amarantha's ring as a trophy. mor agrees to marry her and they stay forever young and hot and undead together.

i think i only started the prologue on that one, let me know if you want a snippet lol

[creatingblackcharacters]

I'm rewriting a Black woman character from Disney's Descendants (yes, the same Descendants where poor Uma got shrimp dumped over her head and we were supposed to think she was in the wrong for being extremely upset,) Uliana, sister of Ursula. She's played by Dara Renee in Descendants four, she was created specifically for that movie and was put in the role of the main mean girl bullying a white girl, being needlessly mean and aggressive. There's also a scene where she steals something from said white girl, winds up getting spelled by said thing and partially turned into a flamingo, and chases the girl around the courtyard until she accidentally falls in a four-foot-deep fountain in front of everyone, nearly drowns, and everyone laughs at her and she's pretty upset about that (this keeps with the trend of publicly humiliating Black girls and expecting the audience to be against the girls who were humiliated.) Later, Uliana seeks revenge against the white girl (fun fact, her friends all suggested brutal murder and Uliana played the part of the common sense friend and got them to settle for a dumb prank,) and long story short her revenge does not work and she gets in massive trouble for breaking into the principal's office and trying to steal a cursed book. We are supposed to hate Uliana and delight in her every failure, which doesn't sit well with me. She's the darkest named character in the movie and also the only Black character who uses AAVE, plus the only one with natural hair. It feels like there was a lot done wrong here and I personally think she deserves better, as do Audrey and Uma.

I'm going to rewrite this movie and I'm trying to figure out how to do Uliana better as a character. I'm expanding on her as a person, giving her a life outside of evil bully who's tormenting someone for no reason, giving her motivations and stuff. After her brother, Triton, betrayed her and their other sisters she became distrusting of everyone. When Bridget kept trying to get close to her, Uliana couldn't figure out why this pink perfect princess wanted anything to do with their group of teenage villains so she assumed Bridget was just trying to get an in to betray them and that's why she was pushing back. I also plan to make Maleficent (who is white) the head of the group and the one who Bridget accidentally turns into a flamingo (the scene will be much less humiliating but I digress.) They start plotting revenge because they're dramatic villains and Uliana still plays the role of common sense friend, talking Hades down from burning Bridget to death and Hook down from executing her and instead convincing them to pull a dumb prank that won't end them in prison. It's a fairly harmless prank, turn Bridget into a troll to get even over her turning Maleficent into a flamingo, and they have no idea that this prank is going to make Bridget become the evil dictator Queen of Hearts and start executing people. Two people who went back in time to stop the prank manage to keep the VKs from getting the book needed for the spell and the VKs are forced to abandon the mission because it's either that or get busted. After that, they can't do the prank and Bridget never becomes and evil abusive parent. Uliana grows up, realizes how dumb this entire thing was, and goes on to be the best aunt ever to her niece, Uma, and reconcile with her sisters, stays friends with her old high school group because in the movie they clearly care a great deal about each other, and lives a happy life rather than meeting the terrible life I've no doubt Disney has planned for her

I'm also changing a few other Black characters, like Chloe and Ella, so that Uliana isn't the only one with natural hair and skin that wasn't lightened post-production. I'm not sure how to approach Uliana using AAVE, I think I'll just write that out to avoid caricaturing her. And I'm giving her motivations, a backstory, a personality beyond "evil witch who hates this poor white girl for no reason," good friends, and a good enough head on her shoulders to keep her friends from assassinating a monarch. I want to give her a hobby with her hair, as she has knee-length dreadlocks that she does up in this cool do and that clearly take a massive amount of effort, and just let her be an actual person with interests, likes, and dislikes. I don't know if there's anything I'm missing, anything I should change or keep in mind, anything here that I shouldn't do, so I figured I'd ask. I apologize in advance for this insanely long ramble ask, I just have a lot of opinions on how Descendants treats the poor Black girls.

(And no, in my rewrites, Uma never gets shrimp dumped over her head, she and Mal fell out for a different reason and there was no public humiliation or demeaning nickname.)

It sounds like you got it fr 😅 there's nothing I can really do here with what you have. It'll all come out as you write. Keep in mind (unless we were supposed to pretend it wasn't and that was her real hair, which fine!) that Uliana has faux locs. Even if you were to say they were faux in universe, but her hair is still those colors, that'd be a cool hobby to have as she works with her hair.

She had a gorgeous character design and a gorgeous actress too, like just from looking at her I knew that fans and the writing were gone do her wrong lmao. The world doesn't like unapologetic Black women; "bully" is not an uncommon sentiment when we're not even being mean, so to put that all on her character does feel wild.

[awesamdude-w]

He panted heavily, feeling his breath getting more ragged behind his gaz mask. He sighed before slowly letting go of his fur, noting the fact his hands began shaking slightly once he took a look down. He noticed Dream flinching and quickly raised his hands in a reassuring matter, sweating.

"No.. hey- its okay-"

Before he could try any further he heard XD speaking again, annoyance already building up. He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried his hardest not to tear up. He felt so incredibly tired after everything that happen. He braced himself.

"You know what? Fine- fine! Go ahead! Make me hear it all."

He waited before he felt the flick, flinching as his face scrunched up for a second. He raised his hand to rub his forehead as he started to listen, blinking with furrowed eyebrows.

His chest tightened once he started hearing the voices in Dream's head, his own and Quackity's. The way the voices spoke sounded indentical in every way, from the tone to the manner. He felt sick. He watched helplessly as Dream stiffened and flinched with such familiar terror in his eyes.

It scared Sam to hear himself say these things, especially because he knows full well hes the type to say them. It made him think too much about every horrible thing that came out of his mouth ever since he started working in this hell of a place. It really puts it all in perspective once youre the one who hears those words. Once youre on the other end of the wall.

His fists clentched as he kept listening, kept watching Dream react to the same things he was hearing. He felt numb, as if he was watching himself through a different perspective. He barely registered himself begining to speak, near mumbling. He tried to speak out to Dream, call out for him, even moved foward slightly, but he couldnt hear himself or see himself apart from the voice Dream was hearing. It took XD begining to speak again for him to snap back to himself.

His attention darted to the invisible presence, releasing a breath he didnt know he was holding. He felt sweaty, and his mask was fogging up a lot. He tried to adjust it, coughing out. The information loaded in his brain, his guilt heightening. He didnt know what to reply for a bit.

"..I- of course it doesnt bring.. good effects, but- it isnt my fault that every person who visits ends up in a bad state.. I needed to fix it somehow.."

He convinced himself, despite the obvious guilt in his expression. Hes felt a lot of guilt today.

"He wont just.. forget me. Im one of the only two people in this place who keep him company. If he does forget things, he'll surely remember me."

The idea didnt seem to make him feel bad, even the opposite. Dream forgetting everything but him didnt seem that bad of a scenario, even borderline useful if he thought about it- but that was just his thoughts. And his thoughts often rounded back on ways to make Dream less dangerous, which definitly wasnt the must useful right now.

"Whatever he forgets, ill remind him- im not a liar. If its really that important, then ill just tell him to write it down. All that matters is that he remembers the book. And how would he forget it, if its the sole reason hes being.. pursued, in the first place?"

That first part was already a lie in itself, since Sam does lie, especially to Dream. If hes feeling to tired to give him food, he'll often just tell him he had some the day before. Despite this, his mind was still firm.

"Im.. the Warden. And im doing what I think is best for the server as a warden, even if it seems bad."

He replied, his voice stern as he spoke to XD. His composure faltered at the mention of Ponk. Of course he had to go there.

"Me and Ponk's.. situation, isnt in any of your buisness. They arent to be included in this. Ive assured that Dream will never get sick, and ill keep doing it like that. Even if he does, ill deal with it as the warden. You wont succeed in trying to use his health against me, XD."

He felt more confident now as he said this, despite it only being partially true. Dream still had a possibility of getting sick, though he was convinced he could fix it. He kept listening to XD, stubborn.

"There's no denying in the fact ive caused damage to Dream.. but it was for reasons. He had no reason for all the things he did- Hes always done it due to being a bad person! Inculding Tommy, which is what differentiates them-"

Before he could finish, he heard a thud. He went quiet as he looked foward, seeing the prisoner infront of him drop limp. His heart sank, his breath leaving him.

He stood there for a second, processing the scene infront of him before he rushed down on his knees, his trembling hands hovering above Dream's lifeless body. He picked him up gently and put the side of his head against his chest, trying to spot any heartbeat, any sign of life. Nothing.

Panic rose in his chest, shattering his composure. His mind screamed at him. His own heart started to beat out of his chest as his ear ringed. He could barely see anything infront of him, feel anything- smoke poured out of his mask like never before as he could barely breathe. If he took off his mask he would definitly explode. He had to bite his lip to hold himself back from crying. Or screaming.

"Nonononono-"

He repeated over and over, his hand coming up to tug at his fur as he tried to reach for his communicator, barely able to take it out without dropping it from his trembling hand. He opened Punz's contact and messaged him, his frantic fingers not being able to write properly on the screen as he was hyperventilating at this point. He couldnt hold himself back from tearing up.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: Punz

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: Nnd you. Quick.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz]: S abou Dream.

[Awesamdude messaged Punz] : Please

Dream's been quiet as of late. His body barely moving after his last visit from Quackity. Hell he hadn't even touched the potatoes from the night before.

He just sat on the bed staring at the wall across from him, knees brought to his chest. He hadn't even notice the warden appear or approach. It was like physically he was there but everything else was distant. He felt numb... it was a lot better in his own opinion than anything else. His prison uniform was torn up this time. His shirt having been ripped off by Quackity, exposing his back.

No one on the server even knew Dream had wings. All that remained of them were stubs obviously. Something he painfully tried to keep hidden but after yesterday's visit and those stubs were revealed... The fact Dream was a hybrid came to light, and hurting another's hybrid traits was frowned upon among the players. It was an unspoken rule.

And yet... Someone did do that to Dream, and no one knew about it. Some would think he did it himself. But they were torn off, someone physically had to tear them off. Despite everything Dream could never tear off someone's wings. Maybe the realization that two people now knew caused Dream to shut down... To Disassociate. Can't get hurt if you're not mentally there right? It wasn't healthy. {{HOPE YOU DON'T MIND THE ASK- I like your sam btws}}

*The Warden walked in the cell and looked at Dream from afar, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. He couldnt hold back from glancing briefly at Dream's back before coming towards the bed he was sitting at and standing infront of him, his figure slightly looming.*

"Dream."

*He spoke in his usual monotone voice, a hint of tiredness in it.*

"You havent been speaking much lately. Would you do me a favor and answer why that is? If you wont answer, ill just figure it out myself."

*His arms were crossed over his chest as he waited for an answer, slightly inpatient.*

//I dont mind at all hihi ty ty pathetic wet cat man//

[sheetghosting]

decided to rewatch the daisya barry episodes and now i'm almost compelled to dust off my ao3 account

[silverwhittlingknife]

So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.  If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one.  (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him.  When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

[yayswag]

rlly silly doodles based off of a post the hc goat @tegr1dy made about stan and kyle adult braces that had me laying awake at night 😭😭😭

[ragana62]

A handful of the sixth and seventh years were actively losing their shit that Sirius Black had tried to break into their dorms for horny reasons instead of fear reasons (at least one Seventh year claimed it was obvious he had been so hooked on the thirsty letter she sent him in Azkaban and come immediately to find her so they could be together properly.).

Rita did write that biography. It was insanely thirsty, all about 'a promising young man led astray by his family's prejudices' and someone absolutely ran with that. There's a non-unsubstantial portion of people out there arguing 'he didn't do it/mean to do it, the trial was rigged, his parents forced him/made him take the fall for it.'. Unironically, Remus is one of them, specifically because they get a change.wix petition for a re-trial close to the signature threshold to force the Wizengamot to consider it in a session and while he can't respect the craziness of some of it, a part of him does want to believe one of his best friends wouldn't kill the other two in cold blood.

Tonks spent weeks taking any assignment to get out of the office because every single colleague at the Ministry started asking pointed questions about how 'you're his cousin, right?'. Some of them were the legitimate, concerned, 'do you think you're a target', some were the suspicious 'do you know where he is', but there were enough of the 'can you give me his e-owl address? I promise, I won't tell anyone, he's just so dreamy..." variety that she wanted to be anywhere but there. Andromeda fully took at least the two weeks immediately after his escape off work. Narcissa wasn't seen at society functions for the next few weeks after either.

Everyone who knew him back at Hogwarts was getting interview requests. They quickly learned to filter them into the 'human interest/serious news, tell us about him before he went mad, what do we need to worry about' type normal requests and the 'Hi, it's Tawny Fawcett from Witch Weekly. We're looking for personal references for our winner of this month's 'Wicked Wizards We All Want to Woo' cover feature after an overwhelming vote from our readers. I see you attended Hogwarts around the same year as Sirius Black, would you say his eyes seemed more 'brooding' or 'tortured' in person?'.

It's not just people with crushes either. There are wizards out there buying motorcycles and leather jackets, it spawns a whole aesthetic revival. People accuse the Weird Sisters of trying to capitalize on the popularity of Star-Core despite them keeping the same aesthetic they've always had, some because they think it's insensitive and others because they think it's lame to copy him. A handful of boys at Hogwarts grow their hair longer and start walking around with what they swear are totally legit tattoos they did themselves last night that totally don't smudge when they get wet.

Some of his 'fan club' are genuinely disappointed when he gets exonerated. More so than they even are he's dead. Namely because they were absolutely convinced that they could be the only one to fix him/he was a bad boy but he'd go good for them and now he's just some guy who got framed by a corrupt justice system and his evil (and less hot) friend and that's just less sexy.

As much as I love Prisoner of Azkaban, I think it’s unrealistic to consider that people weren’t thirsty over Sirius Black when he escaped Azkaban.

The fact that there weren’t more Sirius Black Apologists/Conspiracy Theorists at the time. You don’t think Rita Skeeter would write the hell out of that story? You know she’d dig up the most handsome photo of Sirius pre-Azkaban she could get her hands on and write a story about how tragic he is—a young man who could’ve have it all but went down a dark path. People would eat that shit up. “Did you read the new Sirius Black biography? Fascinating!” There would be a small cult of people thinking he’s too hot to murder so many people.

I mean, we can’t know, obviously, because Harry’s perspective is so limited, and I’m not saying a LOT of people would be into him, but…I do think people are weird.

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[thedemonscrawler]

for a writer im really bad at putting my thoughts into words

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)