#barbara fears to fathom

[fearfathomer]

Please take a seat, I'll be right with you.

Barbs WIP x

is that ME? no. no. it's nice. it's sso nice :))). I neva looked better. Ooohh where were YOU when it was time for senior photossss???

Mummy i don't think it looks good...

IT IS FANTASTIC! ohmagad wassat? is that hyperpigmentation???

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

i dont believe people go to hell for not being christian. i just can’t fathom that God would have sent me the best friends and partners any person could ask for, just to make me spend eternity without them. that would be crueler than any punishment in hell.

I'm with you, anon! In fact, I don't personally believe in hell at all, for similar reasons to yours — it seems like a very human response to the problem of sin; a God who is wise and all-loving must be able to imagine justice that goes far beyond the punitive or exilic. I write more on this over here.

And even if hell does exist, I agree with you that people don't go there just for being non-Christian. Throughout scripture we find a God who is far more concerned with how people act than what people believe.

I highly recommend the book Holy Envy by Barbara Brown Taylor for a text on respecting people of all faiths and celebrating the unique insights into the divine that each one offers. You can read some excerpts from the book here.

More stuff you might enjoy exploring:

This post on the idea of "purgatorial universalism" as an alternative to hell!

I have a #fear of hell tag unpacking people's anxieties about what comes after this life

A post on Christians dating/marrying non-Christians

My podcast episode (with transcript) "No One Owns God: Readying Yourself for Interfaith Encounters"

...And the "sequel" to that episode, "It's good to have wings, but you have to have roots too: Cultivating Your Own Faith while Embracing Religious Pluralism"

[theoldandnewfirm]

Strange and Unusual (nsfw) // Unfinished Snippets Series

I'm clearing some mental space by going through my many WIPs and posting the ones I've completely stalled on.

This was meant to be my smutty contribution to stricklakerot, with Barbara and Walter introducing Angor Rot to the strange human practice known as oral, but the snippet is just Barbara/Angor. Enjoy!

------

Angor Rot had endured indignities beyond remembering during his centuries as Morgana's thrall, and yet this one, undertaken of his own free will, might trump them all.

He knelt on a sheet on the floor of Barbara's living room with his rump in the air while she examined his "downstairs situation" as she'd called it. He resisted the urge to squirm beneath the weight of her silent scrutiny. Imagine exposing himself in such a way, only for her to determine that this whole endeavor was for naught.

The thought alone made him itch for the simplicity of combat; at least there those who witnessed his humiliations would not survive to share them.

More seconds ticked by in silence before his discomfort won out. "Well?"

"Yup," she said, "I think this will work."

---

"This" was the result of his own foolishness. He hadn’t meant to intrude on his host’s evening that day or, having done so, to linger. But the scene in the living room--the changeling on the sofa, legs spread, and Barbara kneeling like a supplicant between them—had been too strange to ignore.

So he'd watched them, brow furrowed, trying to understand. But when their motions had ceased and Barbara had clambered up to take a more familiar position on the changeling's lap, he felt no more enlightened than he'd been at the start.

He did not enjoy ignorance. He'd turned the moment over in his mind for days, searching for an analogue for the act in his (admittedly limited) knowledge of troll mating practices and finding none. It would be too dangerous. There were teeth. And troll tongues were meant for scraping flesh from bone; no sane troll would invite one anywhere near their gronk-nuks.

What he'd seen was uniquely human, then, and he couldn't fathom how the changeling had found pleasure in it. There was, however, a way to find out.

"Your people--do they partner freely?"

"Sorry?" Barbara said, punctuating the statement with a yawn. She handed him a mug of the drink humans called coffee before turning her attention to modifying her own with a variety of powders and liquids.

"Fleshbags. Do they take multiple partners in--" he fished for the term, "sex?"

"Hoo boy. One moment," she said. She took a long swig of her coffee. Then, "Okay. So do you mean at the same time, or over the course of the relationship?"

"Relationship?"

"Ah, right. Um. Bond?"

He considered this. "Both."

"Some bonded humans do take on multiple partners, yes. Sometimes just for a night, sometimes for months or years. There are a lot of names for those kinds of relationships, but generally the former is called 'open' and the latter is called 'polyamorous.' "

"Interesting," he said.

"Why do you ask?"

He leaned against the counter; when he spoke again it was to his mug rather than her. "I wish to try a human sex practice with you."

Her cheeks took on the pink hue he'd learned was indicative of emotional distress. She made several noises that didn't graduate to actual words until finally she squeaked out, "Is this--is this about the other night?"

He looked up sharply. Taking that for the confirmation it was she continued, "We were having a date night and…didn't move things upstairs when we should have. Walt said you might have seen us…?"

While he was reluctant to give the changeling credit for anything, managing to detect him while so distracted was impressive. "He was correct."

There was a tang of fear in the air like the distress of a hunted thing now caught. She bit her lip. "Sorry."

"Apology is unnecessary. You are free to do as you wish in your home."

"Yeah, but…consent…" she shook her head slightly. "I shouldn't have done that. But I didn't expect that you would be--" she looked him over from horntips to feet; there was an appraising quality to it. "Anyway. I need to talk to Walt first. Can I get back to you?"

If the venture came down to the changeling's decision, Angor had little hope it would be approved. But now that he understood how their relationship worked, refusal might be the better outcome: for if the changeling agreed, what would he demand in return?

------

After completing her examination Barbara bade him sit. There were two objects on the floor in front of her: a clear bottle of liquid, and something that resembled an abstract phallus.

"I want to make sure you're comfortable with everything before we start," she said.

"I doubt there's anything you can do to me that I cannot endure," he said. Still, he eyed the phallus suspiciously.

"I don't want you to endure. I want you to enjoy it. So if you're not enjoying it tell me, okay?"

Consideration was a luxury Angor had never enjoyed; to be offered it so freely and often by Barbara made him feel like there was something alive and squirming in his chest. He was still unsure what to make of it. "Very well."

"Your penis--er--vamek retracts, correct?" she asked.

When he nodded she continued, "So we've got to get it to extend. I'm not a troll, obviously, so I can't emit pheromones or wrestle or any of the other things you guys would normally do to get each other 'in the mood'. So, we've got to take a shortcut."

She nodded towards his gronk-nuks. "The separation between your…racsik and vamek are thin. If I directly stimulate the former it will trigger your vamek to extend. That's what this is for."

She picked up the phallus. It was roughly the length of her forearm and as wide around as his thumb. It wobbled slightly as she held it.

"You mean to put that inside me?" he said, reeling back.

"I know it sounds weird, but trust me." She handed it to him. "We call them dildos, or sex toys. Here, it's not as stiff as it looks."

She was right; the material flexed easily in his grip. It seemed to be made of a rubber of some kind, one not too different in texture from the softer stone of his vamek.

"And here--" She squeezed some of the liquid onto his hand; it was cool and slightly viscous. "This is called lube. Well, technically lubricant, but everyone just calls it lube. When I apply some of this to the toy and you, it'll help it slide in easier."

He looked from the lube, to the toy, then to her. "This is really what you and the changeling do?"

"It is. Well, the first part anyway. The part you were interested in happens after."

His mind whirred. He'd said he could endure anything, but the thought of someone rooting around his most sensitive tissue made him want to cross his legs forever.

"Hey."

Her words startled him out of his thoughts. She was smiling gently at him. "We can stop if you want to, Angor. It's okay."

That strange, squirming thing awoke once more. "No," he said. "I trust you."

---

She didn't try and jam the dildo in right away; for that he was grateful. Instead she drizzled a little more lube over his opening and slowly massaged it into the surrounding stone with her thumbs. Nerves he'd only been dimly aware of before now crackled to attention. It was…not unpleasant.

What would it feel like to have that gentle touch inside him? But, no--that's what the dildo was for. The stiff rubber held less appeal, but perhaps driven by her skilled hands…

He was yanked from his thoughts by her thumbs skating over his ring proper. It was no accident: now she traced slow, teasing circles on the skin, and pressed gently against its resistance. He only just managed to quell the disgraceful noise that threatened to leave his throat as he arched into the contact.

She hummed. "Very good. I think you're ready."

Her touch vanished. He heard the click of the bottle of lube, followed by more of the cool substance spilling over his stone. A moment later her hand settled on his hip, and something hard and slick--the toy, he assumed--pressed against his opening.

"Breathe out," she said, "and relax."

He did as commanded. And then, she pushed.

The lube had done its work: there was no pain. Only the strangeness of the object inside him, and his body's eagerness to draw it deeper.

"Perfect," she cooed. "You're doing so well, Angor. How does it feel?"

Empty. He needed--

"More."

She obliged, entering him with almost frustrating care. He rocked back, willing her to move faster. Instead she tsked and paused.

"Patience," she said.

He grunted. "You torment me."

"I don't want to hurt you…"

"I'm not a whelp, Barbara. I don't need to be coddled."

She sighed. "Well, if you're sure."

And then, all at once, she drove the toy home.

Pleasure burst through his entire frame. He gripped the sheets, eyes wide with shock.

Barbara laughed. "Found it, did I?"

"What--" she pulled the toy back, then drove it forward again. More pleasure, hot and sharp, spilling from some point deep inside him. "What is that?"

"Prostate," she answered. "Surprisingly you guys aren't built much differently than humans. Well, minus the extra stomach and liver. And whatever a razvo is. Feels good, right?"

"Yes," he fisted the sheets in his hands so tightly that his clawtips bit into his palms. "Yes."

His body gave him no choice: he had to rut, to feel those shocks sparking from his core. And Barbara obliged, plunging the toy into him with short, quick strokes that jarred the breath from his lungs.

"Hm," she said, "looks like it's working."

And then--her grip on his vamek, squeezing. It was as she'd said: the stimulation had drawn it out. Her hand was too small to encircle it entirely but her touch was enough to complete a circuit between rear and fore, settings his nerves alight. More--a little more, and then--

She stopped.

"Why?" he snarled, twisting around to glower at her.

She smiled and shrugged one shoulder. "We can keep going if you want, but as I recall, this wasn't what you wanted to learn about today."

He'd wanted to learn…? Oh. The "oral." Yes. He swallowed. "It…is as pleasurable as that?"

"Hm. Subjective, I think. How about this: we can try, and if you don't like it, we'll go back to anal. Deal?"

The toy was still inside him, its pressure a reminder of the release that had been so near. But she was right--tonight, it was a means to a different end. And he was nothing if not patient, even now.

He sighed. "Very well."

The oral required a different position, similar to the one that had first caught his attention on that night: he lying flat, legs bent and knees spread, and Barbara kneeling between them. Foolish of him to think she'd been a supplicant before the changeling; he understood now that she held all the power in this strange territory. Though, judging by her expression as she stared at his vamek, she was uncertain of how to wield it.

"Huh," she said. "That's--big. Wow."

He frowned. "Humans are not equally equipped?"

"No! God, no. Are you kidding? That would split someone in half!"

He put care into his next question; having already erred once, he was hesitant to do so again. "You…cannot copulate with trolls, then?"

"I--" she bit her lip; it seemed she too did not wish to misstep. "I think it depends on size? Of the troll, I mean. You're--" she arced a hand high over her head, "--and some are--" she pressed downward until her hand rested at roughly hip height. "I don't have a…variety of experience, obviously, but around here--" now she drew a line at roughly the changeling's height "it seems more compatible. Don't get me wrong, it still takes a LOT of adjusting, but…"

She trailed off, flushing, before reaching over to grip his shaft with both hands. "Anyway, I think I can make this work."

[jcantsleep]

Fears to Fathom: Ironbark Lookout (Lore Synapsis)

Be sure to follow jcantsleep on Twitch to not miss moments like this! Be sure to join Discord and become and insomniac today!

Synopsis provided by Stormyz in the discord!

" This is what happened during the stream (LORE): J went to a diner and met barbara AND DIDNT TIP HER. After crashing her RV with all of us inside multiple times, she made it to her destination, the camping site. She started working in a tower making sure fires don’t start. Something is off about the forest tho. And stormyz brought barbara along which was a VERY BAD MISTAKE WHY DID I DO THAT. Barbara disappears then big guy disappears and Stormyz disappears. Big guy manages to escape the evil cult meanwhile stormyz gets captured. We soon find out barbara and connor have been sleeping together and been going on dates. (Connor is the guy in the tower next to J’s) Stormyz reveals that Barbara was in the cult and kidnapped stormyz and was chasing big guy. Big guy had loads of weapons and manages to defend himself and accidentally shoots parker. Big guy hides in the RV. But sadly Stormyz got sacrificed, and J witnessed it. J couldn’t save me😭. J manages to escape Barbara and run her over with the RV and escape with all her children in. EXCEPT STORMYZ BECAUSE I DIED😡. Then we got home safely and you locked big guy in the RV and forgot about him. Then you took us out for ice cream. Then parker came back. "

[heathjett]

Forest Solitude: Batgirl's Contemplation by Heath Jett

Delve into the captivating digital artwork of Batgirl as she finds solace amidst the tranquil embrace of the forest. In this mesmerizing piece, she sits gracefully on a rustic bench, adorned in her iconic batgirl suit, her fiery red hair cascading around her. Lost in deep thought, her piercing gaze reveals a mind immersed in contemplation. This artwork captures the essence of her inner journey, inviting you to explore the depths of her introspection.

......

In the heart of the forest, a place where shadows danced and whispers of the night lingered, Batgirl found solace. She perched gracefully on a weathered bench, her crimson locks illuminated by the moon's gentle caress. Clad in her iconic batgirl suit, she exuded an air of silent power, the symbol of justice etched upon her chest.

As the night enveloped her, Batgirl allowed her thoughts to roam freely, weaving through the labyrinth of her mind. Her eyes, filled with an enigmatic depth, stared into the distance, seemingly lost in a world only she could fathom. In this moment of solitude, she delved into the depths of her being, seeking answers to the questions that haunted her.

Gotham City, a place teeming with darkness and despair, had forged Batgirl into a formidable vigilante. But beneath the mask, beneath the cape, there existed a woman with her own battles to fight. In the silence of the forest, she confronted her inner demons, the doubts and fears that threatened to consume her.

Her red hair shimmered like fire, a symbol of the untamed spirit that burned within her. Each strand danced with the whispers of her thoughts, as if carrying the weight of her silent reflection. She was a paradox of strength and vulnerability, a testament to the complexities of her existence.

The forest provided her with a sanctuary, a respite from the chaos of the city. Surrounded by the embrace of nature, Batgirl found serenity in the rustling leaves and the gentle breeze that whispered ancient secrets. It was in these moments of quiet contemplation that she discovered the inner strength to carry on, to rise above the challenges that lay ahead.

Batgirl's presence in the forest was a testament to her unwavering determination, her commitment to protect the innocent and uphold justice. Behind the mask, she was Barbara Gordon, a woman who had faced adversity head-on and emerged stronger. She understood the importance of introspection, of taking the time to reflect on the choices she made and the path she walked.

In the depths of her thoughts, Batgirl realized that her journey was not defined solely by her battles against crime. It was a journey of self-discovery, of unraveling the layers that shrouded her true identity. The forest became her confidant, witnessing her silent musings as she sought clarity amidst the chaos that surrounded her.

As the night wore on, Batgirl rose from the bench, her mind clear and her purpose renewed. The forest had imparted its wisdom, bestowing upon her the strength to face the challenges that awaited her. With each step she took, she carried the serenity of the forest within her, ready to soar once more as Gotham City's guardian.

[vivaciousoceans]

i think he died for me

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti & Barbara Howard

Rating: T+

Warning (s): Minor character death

Word Count: 1,043

Genre: Hurt / Comfort, Angst

It’s only a few weeks into the school year when Barbara gets the call. Gerald had a heart attack. Doctors expect him to make full recovery, and he does, until he doesn’t. Barbara plans the funeral rather quickly, but that’s just how she is. She tackles problems head on, there’s no use in lagging along, she’ll grieve eventually. She’s very meticulous in her planning, each detail is carefully pulled from Gerald’s life. Gardenias fill the room, they were his favorite. Barbara’s bridal bouquet was filled with them. ‘All In His Plan’, his favorite hymn, is sung by the choir, which is led by Barbara of course. Nothing is out of place, but it doesn’t feel sterile. It feels more like a celebration than a funeral, and Barbara prays that it’s what Gerald would’ve wanted. 

The reception is substantially smaller than the service. Barbara wants something intimate, family only, and that includes her Abbott Elementary family. Melissa provides all the food for the reception, and they have it at Barbara’s home. “You know you didn’t have to do all this, right?” Barbara asks Melissa once they’re alone in the kitchen. Melissa is finishing up the last of the refreshments.

“Nonsense.” Melissa waves her off, “You know I stress cook anyways. This way the food won’t be going to waste.” She gives Barbara her classic Schemmenti smile, the one that can light up a pitch black room, and for a moment Barbara feels at ease. It’s almost immediately replaced by a pang of guilt, once she remembers where she is. This is not the time for those feelings, this is not the time to look at Melissa like she hangs the moon. ‘ My husband is dead, for christsake.’ She admonishes herself. 

“Mom?” A hoarse voice calls out, pulling Barbara from her thoughts. “Aunt Kathy wants to go through some pictures of dad…” Taylor trails off, and Barbara's heart shatters for her daughter. She turns and gives Melissa a half smile before joining her daughter. 

They’re heading towards the foyer, where everyone has congregated, when Taylor stops moving. She opens her mouth and then closes it, as if she’s trying to say something she’s not quite sure how to word. It’s in Barbara’s blood to nurture, she tucks a strand of Taylor’s hair behind her ear, and cradles her face.

Taylor leans into her mothers’ touch, closing her eyes, and just basking in the comfort. ‘That’s Saint Barbara Howard’ , she thinks bitterly. Always taking care of others, neglecting her own needs, always giving when she had nothing left. Taylor resents her for it sometimes, but it’s almost admirable. To love so much that you’ll let it destroy you. To be that selfless, to deny yourself a chance at true love. Yeah, it’s admirable, but it’s incredibly depressing as well.

Taylor doesn’t even know what she’s going to say until she says it. “I see the way she looks at you…” Barbara tries to interrupt, but Taylor stops her. “And I see the way you look at her.” 

Barbara’s stomach drops, her pulse quickens, and her blood runs cold. She wasn’t expecting Taylor's confession, she doesn’t even know how to respond. She knows how she should respond, she should deny it, she should accuse Taylor of being overwhelmed with grief, but she can’t. She’s being confronted with her worst fears, and all she can do is stare into her daughters’ eyes.

Taylor slips her hands into her mothers’, and she smiles as brightly as she can muster, “It’s okay.” She assures her mother, “You did right by daddy, and he would want you to be happy.”

“It’s barely been a month, it’s, it’s too soon.” Barbara stammers, shaking her head as if she couldn’t even fathom the thought of being with Melissa. She can, she has. 

“What’s the difference between now and three years from now? Are you going to suddenly love daddy any less? Why waste more time?” Taylor asks, and in that moment she reminds Barbara so much of her father it hurts. Taylor gives her mothers’ hand a tight squeeze before letting go and turning away, leaving Barbara to think about everything she said. She’s never going to stop loving Gerald, like she’s never stopped loving Melissa. ‘Why waste more time?’ That question rings over and over in her head, like a bell chiming. It drives her crazy until she turns on her heel and marches back into her kitchen.

“Jeez, is everyone that impatient? Tell em’ it’ll be done in a minute, i’m an artist here.” Melissa jokes, not even looking up, but somehow sensing Barbara’s return to the kitchen. They’d always been in sync like that. If she had looked up she'd see the determination in Barbara’s eye, the same determination that Barbara has when she has a student falling behind, the determination that Melissa had grown to love. It’s not until Barbara is virtually on top of her that she looks up, and when she does, when she sees that look, she freezes. 

Time freezes, everything freezes except Barbara, and that determination. She melts when she feels Barbara’s lips on hers, and suddenly the world around her is moving faster than she can process. It’s everything and nothing like Melissa expected. Barbara’s lips are soft and plum, she tastes a little like nutmeg - or maybe cinnamon. Melissa can’t be sure, but it’s earthy and it stings a little bit. She decides that she doesn’t really care, she needs more, so she deepens the kiss. Their tongues aren’t vying for dominance like they do in her dreams. They’re dancing, slow, gentle, precise, like they’re waltzing around a ballroom. 

When they separate, Melissa isn’t quite sure what’s happening, she isn’t quite sure about anything. She’s wanted this for as long as she could remember and now that it’s happening, she’s speechless. Apparently Barbara is too, because she doesn’t say anything, she just lays her forehead against Melissa’s.  Neither of them are sure how long they stay in that position, just trying to feel connected to one another, but they know they have to separate, considering where they are. This is not the time or the place, but it feels like the only time they have. ‘Death will do that to you,’ Melissa thinks.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Speaking of JSA, what kind of yandere (platonic) do you think Pat, Courtney, Beth, Rick and Yolanda are and how dark can they get?

Yandere JSA (platonic)

Pat Dugan

Pat is the epitome of the word "Dad". He's protective and he worries about you and the rest of the new JSA. He'll do anything to protect his family (including the other JSA kids). He'll always make sure that you're taken care of, along with the others.

He's slightly delusional in regards to the family dynamic that the JSA have going on. He's aware enough to understand and know that he's not your actual parent but that doesn't stop him from seeing it like that.

He'll try to insert himself in your day to day life outside of the JSA, even befriending your parents so he can be around even more. Now if you're parents mistreat or abuse you in any way then he'll push for you to stay with him, Barbara and the kids. They'll replace your old family, giving you the love, support, recognition, and affection that you deserve. He'll make sure that you're happy and healthy. But don't think that he won't go back to your parents and have a talk with him, if he feels the need to then he'll throw down with them. Either way, no matter how your parents are, he will take you in and under his wing becoming your new family, your better family.

I totally canon Pat being platonic yandere for all the kids, along with Barbara. The show already pretty much made that canon with the end of the last episode with the Christmas celebration, showing that they basically adopted the other kids and were one happy family.

Pat would definitely be very weary of anyone you're friends with or close to, he just wants to make sure that they're good for you and that they're not trying to get you into trouble. Anyone you have a crush on or are dating will be heavily scrutinized and watched, he wants you happy but only with someone he approves of and knows will be good for you. He realizes that not every one of your love interests, whether a crush or actual relationship, will last forever but that doesn't ease his mind. He definitely doesn't want to see you hurt in any way, shape, or form, especially not by someone you put your all into and trusted.

When it comes to you graduating Pat will be a whole mess. His baby is growing up and gonna go places with out. You'll get to a point where you won't be needing to consult Pat for anything. You'll be able to function and live on your own and that really gets to him. As much as he's happy he's also filled with anxiety and worry, he doesn't want you to move on from your pops and the family. He'll be the one to always call you, making some excuse just to hear your voice and talk with you. He fears that you just may forget about him when all is said and done and that really scares him.

Overall he's a good guy and means well but he just can't fathom the thought of letting you fly the coop, he wants to hold on to you for as long as he can. Please make sure to keep him in both your mind and heart or he just might worry himself into a heart attack or something.

Courtney Whitmore

Courtney's happy-go-lucky, friendly and lovable. She's just so kind and considerate, how could you not want to be friends with her? It's hard to not give in to her persistence to a friendship or when she refers to you as family. You know she means well and is full of good intentions so you never think too much into anything that she does. But if you just gave Courtney a second look then maybe you'd see just what was really going on.

She's protective to a fault, always being overly cautious with anyone you're close to or interact with. She's usually very trusting but when it comes to you she doesn't want to leave any room for anyone to put you at risk. Courtney values your trust and dependency, she doesn't want to lose that so she'll put anyone and everyone under a microscope if need be just to ensure that you'll always be safe. 'Cause in the end that's all that really matters to her, your safety and happiness, that all she wants.

You and Courtney will spend every waking moment together, doing anything and everything. She vents to and confides in you, expecting the same from you. She wants complete trust and transparency with each other, no lies and no holding back about anything.

Your probably the first real friend she makes when she moves to Blue Valley. She trusts you with everything, even going as far as telling you her blowing up Henry's car, becoming Stargirl and especially about Brainwave and the rest of the ISA. She wants you to know to keep your guard up and that things aren't what they seem but don't worry she'll always be there to keep you safe and sound.

Courtney doesn't have a problem with you making other friends or interacting with other people as long as she's #1 and no one tries to replace her or you don't leave her in the dust to be with your other friends. If you're invited to something or going somewhere in general Courtney always ends up tagging along or just so happening to be at that same place as you.

Speaking of which, Courtney is always following you around whether you know it or not. She's always worrying about you and playing terrible scenarios in her head about everything that could possibly go wrong, so to ease her mind she takes to stalking you. Your phone will be filled with messages, missed calls, and voicemails from her. She'll use any means necessary to communicate with you whether through text, phone calls, email, Facebook messenger, letters, and or a cup on a string. Hell, she'll call you through Zoom if she has to, anything that means she can still be in contact with you.

I feel like the cosmic staff would probably encourage her in her obsession for you. Pointing out wherever you may be or taking Courtney to you without hesitation, basically being a little tattletale in regards to you. It may even take a liking to you or form a little obsession in itself because of Courtney's own obsession and interest towards you.

As much as Courtney wants to see you happy she doesn't like anyone you have a romantic interest in or are dating. She honestly believes that no one will ever be good enough for you (this goes for a friendly platonic or a familial platonic). No one will be able to take care of you and keep you safe or even understand you like her, so why don't you just stick with Courtney? Besides the two of you are still young, there's plenty of time for love so why not just focus on your friendship for now.

Beth Chapel

Beth is extremely delusional, you're her best friend or her sibling, hell you could even be a parental figure to her, it doesn't really matter not for her at least. She honestly believes that your closer than you really are, you could seriously have never given her a second glance in your whole life but she already has it in her mind that the two of you are as thick as thieves.

As much as she is delusional, Beth is also very soft. She genuinely cares about you and wants to have a connection with you. She just wants to be close with you, doing anything that results in that. She'll even goes as far as getting into all your interests and hobbies just so she can feel that closeness and be able to bond with you even more. If you like anime or a band she and Chuck will do all their research into those exact things to learn anything and everything there is to know. By the time she and Chuck are through with learning everything, Beth will know so much more than you could have possibly fathomed.

If you have a favorite character in an anime, game, book or movie then that character just so happens to be hers too! What a coincidence, huh? She'll have any and or all memorabilia in regards to that character and she already knows everything there is to them and their origin or backstory.

There won't be a second that goes by where she's not talking someone's ear off about you. She loves talking about you or anything that has to do with you. She just loves you, platonically of course. She just really wants someone to be close with, to do stuff with and she chose you. You mean a lot to her, she'll tell you that all the time and you probably have no idea how much she means it. Everything she says, she wholeheartedly means no matter what it is.

You honestly don't have to really do anything to garner Beth's attention, you could have looked or even waved in her general direction and she'd be hooked. Whatever attention you gave her, whether inadvertently or not, is enough for her.

She'll follow you around all the time like a puppy, wherever you go she goes. Beth is always in distance of you and whoever you may be with, listening to everything you say and watching everything you do. She's definitely a stalker and once she has Chuck with her it only gets worse, she'll have even more in depth and intimate knowledge about you and your life.

Beth is the type to invite herself to whatever you may be doing or wherever you may be going. She'll always has a way of making the people around you uncomfortable and uneasy, whether intentional or not. She probably doesn't even know that she's doing anything odd, she's just being herself after all.

All your friends and or anyone you interact with will go through an extensive background check courtesy of Chuck. Beth just wants to make sure that you're in safe hands with the people you're around. If she finds anything incriminating about them or anyone in regard to them she'll make sure you know, whether she tells you herself or tells you anonymously.

Beth would want to around you all the time, the two of you wouldn't even have to do anything just as long as she was with you she's content. She'll spend any and all her time with you if she could.

She feels that she has to tell you everything otherwise she would be a bad friend if she didn't, she just can'tlive with herself if she lied to you for any reason. Whether you're a part of the JSA or not, you'll know everything about what's going with both them and the ISA. Beth keeps you in the loop about everything.

When she first goes down into the tunnels and loses communication with everyone, you're the first person she goes to for comfort. It really scared her being alone like that, without you and or Chuck by her side, she felt like nothing. It just showed her that she never wants to part with either you or Chuck, especially you. She relies/depends on you and Chuck for a lot, particularly in regard to her emotional connection that she shares with both of you.

Once Chuck 'dies' and is out of commission you're all she has now, at least that's what she keeps saying. You'll have her whole undivided attention and focus after everything. She'll be even more attached to your side, relying on you even more to fill the void that she has after what happened to Chuck. She'll need you all the more now and there's nothing you can do to push her away, even for a little breathing room.

In conclusion, no matter what Beth is always going be there and that's just where she plans to stay, right by your side.

Rick Tyler

Rick can be pretty aggressive and temperamental, coming off scary and unapproachable. You have no clue how he ever came to like you let alone become obsessed with you. Maybe one day he was feeling sympathetic or 'heroic', so to speak, and protected you from some bullies or something. Maybe you were just too kind for your own good, especially to him, so he felt the need to become your protector.

He's protective and possessive, maybe even at least slightly delusional. He's always trailing either behind you or beside you, keeping very close to in case anything may happen. You'll have your own personal guard dog in Rick, he's an intimidating force to be messed with and he counts on that using it to his advantage.

Rick is highly paranoid, ways looking over his or your shoulder for anything out of the ordinary, even before he became part of the JSA. He doesn't trust anyone, excluding you of course. Especially when it comes to you, he doesn't trust anyone to keep you safe or take care of, or to make sure that your happy. Rick doesn't believe that anyone has your best interests at heart, not your friends, family, and especially not your romantic partner if you have one.

Speaking of which, he won't leave any room for other friends or any love interests to come between him and you. He wants all your focus, time and attention, if he has to get his hands dirty to get even a second of anything you have to give him then he will.

Love interests and romantic relationships are out of the question with Rick, he knows that no one is deserving of you and that's just how it will stay. Even if someone was deserving or even worthy of you, Rick wouldn't let them get far. He'll get rid of them quickly enough that you wouldn't even bat an eye at their absence. He's just fine having it be just you and him against the world if it comes down to it, just as long as it's only you and him in the end. That's all he needs after all.

You'll be kept out of the loop about the JSA and the ISA, Rick just wants to protect you from all of it. If you're already involved then he'll have your back all the way until the end, getting in the way of any one trying to hurt you, taking any hits he has to to ensure your safety. You'll always be safe with him, he promises you that.

You're the only one who can calm Rick down, reigning him in whenever he gets too aggressive or murderous. You're always able to bring him back from whatever dark place he's falling into, and he wants to do the same for you if the occasion ever arises. He wants you to depend on him just as he depend on you, though he would never admit to it.

As angry and scary as Rick can be, he can also be soft and gentle but you're the only one he ever let's see that side of him. It just goes to show how important you are to him and how much he really values and trusts you. So, you know that you're in capable hands with him and how he would never hurt, not intentionally at least.

If you were to ever move whether for school or work, Rick would either follow you if he had the means or he'd be pushed to take drastic measures to keep you with him. He just can't trust that you'll be safe or in good hands without him there to be the one watching over you.

Yolanda Montez

You and Yolanda were probably close before everything went down with Henry, you were the only one to not turn your back on her and that only fueled her obsession for you and also her devotion to you. You showed just how committed you were to her and your friendship and she could never put into words just how thankful and appreciative she was of you. You were her only true friend anymore and she couldn't bare to lose you too, no matter what she had to do to keep you.

You probably encourage Yolanda to be friends with Courtney and to especially become Wildcat, and again that only adds to her admiration for you. She feels indebted to you, you've pushed her to be strong, to not give up and it's only brought even better things into her life. She thinks so highly of you and how undeserving she really is to have you by her side through everything that she's been through, everything that you've been living with her right by her side.

Yoland can't help but feel devoted to you and everything that you've done for her. You've always been right there to keep her going and she's clueless as to how she would have survived without you. She hates the thought of not ever having you around anymore, it's probably her greatest fear. You became her everything in such a short amount of time and she couldn't imagine not having you with her anymore. She'd fight tooth and nail to keep you where you are, to keep you just as you are.

Yolanda wouldn't be okay with you having other friends outside of her, she can barely stand you being friendly with the other JSA kids but putting some stranger in the mix would not be pretty. She can't stand the thought of you leaving her behind or maybe even turning your back on her because of some new face. She doesn't honestly believe that you would do that to her but that doesn't mean that she trusts the other person. They could try to turn you against her, try to make you hate her and be disgusted by her. She trusts you but she doesn't trust anyone else, you're all she really has anymore and therefore she can't lose you to anyone for any reason.

You also wouldn't be able to date or have any interest in anyone. Yolanda has a very hard time trying to trust anyone in a romantic way after what happened to her and that will bleed through to your love life. She fears that the same will happen to you and she just can't leave any room for that to happen. Yolanda will dissuade you from anyone, lying and or twisting things so you will lose interest in anyone and everyone. If she has to she will suit up to take out anyone she needs to, her claws are sharp and she has no problem using them especially if it's for you.

Yolanda is very protective already, having threatened Henry to stay away from courtney in the show but when it comes to you that protectiveness gets amped up. She's also possessive of you as well, you're all she's had for so long that she wants to be all that you have too. She has no problem threatening or getting rid of anyone she has to to keep you with her and only with her.

If Henry ever interacts with you she'll have to keep herself from shredding him to pieces right then and there.

When it comes to graduating and whether you may go out of state for college, Yolanda will work and study hard to be able to get into the same school as you and she's more then willing to put the dedication into it just to be with you. It would be nice to get away from her family anyways, especially her parents.

Hell, she would runaway with you now without any hesitation if you asked her to. As long as she has you then she knows she'll be okay, the both of you will be.

You may have kept her from falling into a dark hole before but it only caused her to fall into a much darker place with a different goal in mind. She'll be damed if anyone tries to come between the two of you, so help her, they'll wish they never crossed Yoland Montez.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

hiding

prompt: hidden

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi! sorry for being absent for 2 days and then coming back with a fic that i think might suck? idk. i have been looking at it for too long i think... maybe you will like it? idk. i hope so tho :) 

Shawn has chased more than one old man down the streets of Santa Barbara. Today’s pursuit is no different to the others - or at least, it isn’t until he finally catches up with the old dude in question (who, just for the record, is the fastest seventy year old Shawn has ever encountered). 

They’re in an alley, and the other end is blocked off by several feet of chain link fence. This old guy may be speedy, but he’s evidently not much of a climber. Which is good. 

“Took you long enough to catch up with me,” he says, his creaky-sounding old-man voice taunting and a little demeaning. 

But his statement is fair. As is evidenced by the fact that Shawn is panting hard, bent slightly at the waist with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. 

“But I did catch you,” Shawn says after a second, straightening back up. “And now I’m going to have to call the police.”

“I don’t think so.”

Shawn is about to say something dazzlingly witty in response, but all of a sudden there’s a glint of silver and then…

Then he’s just been stabbed by someone who probably eats his dinner at 4:30. 

It takes him by such surprise that he doesn’t even make a noise.  

And then it hurts. Hot and blinding and sharp and intense pain radiates outward from his stomach and the knife is pulled out and it hurts even more and he feels his body collapse but doesn’t register hitting the ground. There are stars in his vision and everything is blurry and the world sounds like he’s underwater and it hurts and hurts and hurts and he looks upwards as the old man casually wipes Shawn’s blood from the knife with the sleeve of his dark jacket. He idly passes the knife from hand to hand and Shawn watches him and he really wants to just get up and punch him and he staggers to his feet amidst a haze of bright red pain and then there’s a familiar voice from behind him saying, “drop your weapon,” and Lassiter has found them, somehow. He’s never been more grateful to hear the man’s voice in his life. 

“How did you find me?” he asks, before he can stop himself. He knows what he should probably be saying is, hey, I just got stabbed and maybe we should be doing something about that, but then Lassie’s explaining how he’d tracked Shawn down and he’s asking what exactly Shawn had been thinking going after a suspect alone, and then Shawn just kind of…doesn’t bring it up. 

It’s not like he doesn’t try to. But Lassie is more interested in lecturing him about proper police procedure (which Shawn is familiar with - he simply chooses to disregard it). 

“Lassie, um, I -” I got stabbed and it hurts really bad and could we maybe go to the hospital, please?

“I don’t wanna hear it, Spencer.”

“But -”

“If you don’t shut up right now, I swear I’ll pull over and make you walk. That man had a knife, and you chased after him because, what? You couldn’t…”

Lassie keeps lecturing him about why this was such a stupid idea (which, Shawn admits, it was). Shawn sighs to himself as the lecture goes on and on, which is a bad move, because it jostles his stab wound, and it takes all of his willpower to not just scream at the flare of white hot pain. He closes his eyes and tries to breathe normally but everything hurts and the whole front of his shirt is wet and sticking to his skin and he wonders vaguely whether he’s bleeding on Lassie’s seat, and hopes fervently that he’s not, because Lassiter will never forgive him if he ruins his upholstery. 

After what feels like an eternity of driving, they arrive back at the police station. Shawn feels tired, and lightheaded, and he knows that’s bad. And they’re here now, so Lassie can’t force him to get out of the car and walk, so he decides to try and bring it up again. 

“I think I’ve -” I think I’ve been stabbed, well, I know I’ve been stabbed, and I don’t wanna die but I’m pretty sure I’ve lost a lot of blood and it might be nice to do something about that. 

But Lassie is already out of the car, opening the backseat and leading their cuffed suspect inside the building. Halfway up the steps, he turns around. Shawn is still in the car, and Lassie makes a gesture for him to hurry it up and follow them. 

Shawn steels himself for the pain, then extricates himself from the passenger seat. It’s a painful ordeal, but thankfully, no one is there to hear his very pathetic whimpers. Once he’s out of the car, Shawn briefly turns around to check on his seat. Fortunately, it’s free of blood. He looks down at himself and sees that his clothes have not fared quite as well. 

His black shirt looks wet, but the blood isn’t visible, thanks to the shirt’s dark color. The blood does reach down to his jeans, though, turning the tops of the legs rusty red. The inside of his jacket is damp, but the blood hasn’t soaked through the material, so the exterior looks clean. Shawn tugs his shirt and jacket down to hide the bloodstains on his jeans, then begins his trek inside. 

The walk into the station is one of the most painful things Shawn has ever experienced in his life. The stairs are absolute hell on his wound, and he can feel more and more blood soaking through his shirt with every step he takes. He’s slowly but surely getting dizzy, and it’s getting harder and harder to focus, and he really needs to tell someone about this but he kind of doesn’t want to, now, for reasons he can’t quite fathom, and mostly he just wants to sleep. It hurts. 

Finally, he makes it inside the station. There’s an empty chair pulled up next to Lassiter’s currently-empty desk, and Shawn makes a very slow beeline for it. 

Sitting down is painful, but once he’s sitting, it’s infinitely more comfortable than standing or walking, and the pain lessens, just a bit. Shawn takes another look down at himself and sees, much to his alarm, drops of blood on the floor below him. The sight makes him feel even dizzier, and for a second he thinks he might pass out, and then he recalls what you’re supposed to do if you get stabbed (other than, you know, call an ambulance). 

Pressure. He is supposed to apply pressure to the wound. It’s going to hurt, surely, but what’s a little more pain? 

Again, Shawn has to fight to keep himself from screaming. Despite the intense pain, he keeps pressing his hands into his stomach, feeling the warm and wet and sticky fabric of his shirt. It’s the most unpleasant sensation in the world. His own blood soaking through his clothes and into his hands. He feels sick. Dizzy. Lightheaded. Confused. Afraid. 

He needs to tell somebody about this before he actually passes out. 

“Spencer? What’s wrong with you?” 

Shawn startles at Lassiter’s voice. He sounds…oddly concerned. Hesitantly, Shawn turns his head in Lassie’s direction. Tell him, his brain suggests. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted (again). 

“Are you…crying?”

Is he? Shawn raises a hand to his face and scrubs it under his eyes. 

“Is that blood?” Lassiter is all seriousness now, and Shawn looks down at his fingers and remembers what they’d been doing before he’d used them to wipe his face. They’re bright red and now that he sees the blood, he can feel it on his face, drying beneath his eyes. 

“What happened?”

“I got stabbed,” Shawn admits, finally. It’s such a relief to finally say the words, and he feels some of the tension leave his body. 

Oh. Maybe too much tension. He’s falling. 

Shawn’s body makes impact with the floor, and he can’t stop himself from crying out this time. For a second, everything is engulfed by a wave of pain that very nearly causes him to black out. 

When the pain clears up somewhat, Shawn’s vision returns, and Lassie is above him, shouting something at someone and Shawn can’t focus hard enough to determine what he’s saying or who he’s saying it to. His voice is loud and commanding but there’s a look of something akin to fear on his face and Shawn wonders if he is going to die. 

“Am I…” he starts, but halfway through the sentence he forgets what he’s going to say. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Lassiter says, and his voice sounds certain but that look is still on his face and it scares Shawn and he doesn’t want to die, not now, not like this…

Lassie must sense him spiraling, because suddenly he’s talking again. Shawn focuses on him as best as he can, catching bits and pieces of the things he’s saying. “I can’t believe you got stabbed and didn’t say a word about it…running after a known suspect…going to punish him to the full extent of the law…”

Lassie’s talking eventually fades away, and darkness starts creeping into the edges of his vision, and somewhere in the back of his mind Shawn thinks, that’s not good, and then the darkness sweeps over him and the pain goes away and he finally falls asleep. 

--

He wakes up and people are moving all around him, and he’s moving too, and he feels weird and he’s not exactly hurting but there’s some sort of strange sensation blanketing him and making it very hard to focus. He tries asking one of the people a question but his voice sounds muffled and he doesn’t know what he’s saying and then everything goes away again. 

--

The next time he wakes up, he is much more aware. He’s in a hospital, and there’s a teenage girl in the bed to his right and a middle-aged man in the bed to his left. There are various machines around him that he doesn’t care to inspect, and there are four chairs positioned around the bed. All of them are empty. 

He wonders where his visitors have gone. He wants to see Gus. And Jules. Maybe even his dad. He’d like to see Lassie, because he’s pretty sure the head detective had saved his life, but he doubts he’ll be here. He probably has much more important things to attend to. 

So it’s a surprise when, a few long minutes later, Lassie steps into the room. He’s distracted, phone to his ear, steaming cup in his hand, and there’s a spot of blood on his jacket and a few more on his shirt and Shawn realizes it’s his blood - who else’s can it be - and if that’s true then either he’s recovered from surgery remarkably quickly, or Lassie has been here for several hours and hasn’t left. Both seem improbable, and yet…

When he’s made it halfway across the room, Lassie finishes his call and tucks his phone back into his pocket. He looks up at Shawn for the first time, and the dark expression on his face clears away when Shawn looks right back at him. 

“Hey, Lassie,” Shawn greets tiredly, waving carefully with the arm that doesn’t have an IV needle sticking into it. “How’s it going?”

Lassie looks briefly like he wants to strangle Shawn for asking such a stupid question, but then he sighs and sinks down into one of the chairs, apparently resigning himself to answer the question. 

“It’s going fine,” he says. “I’m not the one who got stabbed and then failed to tell anyone about it.”

“I tried,” Shawn admits. “You interrupted me. And then you weren’t there and I just…didn’t want to tell anyone.”

A look of guilt crosses Lassiter’s face. “I should have listened to you,” he says, which is an admission Shawn never thought he’d hear. He’d love to focus on it a little more, maybe tease Lassie for caring or possibly even keep the conversation serious, but he’s tired. He feels his eyes start to drift closed and he yawns.

He’s about to ask Lassie if they can continue this conversation in a few hours when Lassie sighs and says, “just rest, Shawn. We can talk later, whenever you’re feeling up to it. I’ll be here.”

It’s the nicest thing Lassie has ever said to him. Shawn would like nothing more than to say something gently teasing about Lassie really caring about him after all, but he simply falls asleep instead.

thanks for reading this! sorry for any mistakes i am super tired lol. hope you enjoyed, love u <3

[chaotic-lydia]

I saw your posts for Lydia X Wednesday, what are you hcs for meeting the family?? :D

My good friend, thank you for your ask! I absolutely adore Lydsday/Black Wednesday so I’m overjoyed to answer this (I am still working on your other ask, however I’m still in the homework stage with it). So, meeting the family!

The Addams family:

I strongly believe that Wednesday is the first to invite Lydia home to meet her family, rather than Lydia inviting Wednesday to Deetz-Maitland home (because... well, what if she freaks out about the ghosts and demons and decides she no longer likes her and doesn’t want to see her again and then she’ll be alone— well, no matter how unlikely it seems, you get the idea)

Lydia takes one look at the Addams family home and just HAS to take a picture. So now she has a framed photograph of Wednesday stood next to the wrought iron gates at the foot of the hill on which her home is situated (it’s her favourite photograph). And let’s be honest, she positively beams at Gate when it opens for her, even stroking one of its bars in gratitude.

Okay but THE FOGHORN BELL. Lydia can’t help but giggle at it (and Wednesday nearly swoons) in its full glory. It’s here that she meets Lurch, and suddenly she no longer thinks Wednesday would mind Beetlejuice nor the Maitlands very much. He offers to take her veil and she compliments his wonderful sneer.

Lydia offers her hand to Gomez to be shaken, but instead her takes in and drags her into a hug instead. She’s like “this is fine ;-;” as she suffocates in his lapel and affection. He proceeds to nearly shake her arm off. Gomez shows a lot of enthusiasm for her photography, despite knowing nothing about himself, and is most taken with her more gloomy pictures. He buys a copious amount of them from her for prices she cannot even begin to fathom (“I’ll buy this for fifty thousand dollars!”; “Mr Addams, please that’s—“; “Not enough! You’re right, how stingy I’m being for such magnificence, ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!”). Lydia gets ambushed every time she enters the house by a moustached man and his sabre. He intends for her to “be able to protect yourself from harm, now you’re part of the clan”. Gomez definitely plans their wedding.

I think Morticia is more the type to compliment Lydia by singing her praises to Wednesday instead. She’ll say things like “What a woefully gloomy young woman you’ve found here, Wednesday,” to express her approval. Morticia is the kind to give Lydia the “hurt her and perish by the hands of our family” talk but Lydia responds adequately (unlike Fester in The Addams Family) and Morticia warms to her then. Morticia, Wednesday and Lydia all attend tea and seances every full moon.

Gomez and Morticia end up making out (naturally) and Wednesday’s like “we’re leaving, bye” and drags her from the room.

Pugsley drops in with some form of torture device (as an excuse because he wanted to meet the new girl) and is like “oh hi” before trying to convince Wednesday and her “girlfriend” to play Is There A God? with him. Well, at “girlfriend” Wednesday begins to chew him out with carefully chosen words honed to such a sharp precision they could make one bleed. Lydia watches with amusement for a while before eventually cutting in with how “there isn’t a God but there’s certainly a Netherworld.”

OKAY BUT LYDIA AND THING GET ON LIKE A HOUSE ON FIRE. Wednesday was most afraid of their introduction in case it was a little too much but Thing’s spritely personality matches Lydia’s penchant for mischief almost perfectly. If anything, there was more to fear AFTER they met than before.

Faster and Grandmama are only met on her second visit to the Addams’ residence (and so are Gomez’ swords “All good woman must learn how to weild a sabre!”)

The Deetz-Maitland family:

This visit no doubt comes straight off of the back of their visit to the Addams’ residence before Lydia can chicken out. She begs everybody to be on their best behaviour and just... try. For her, for one night (like One Normal Night from the musical but opposite). Obviously nobody adheres to it.

Charles and Delia are the first to be greeted once they’re in the door and Lydia has taken Wednesday’s coat. Both Charles and Delia have a moment like “OH NO. NOW THERE’S ANOTHER ONE” but Charles is better at hiding it. He introduces them with all of the businessman charm he can muster, meanwhile Delia is clutching onto her crystal for dear life. All of this very much pleases Wednesday. Not to mention, you can definitely expect her and Charles to hit it off about business. Wednesday doesn’t mind at all talking about her father’s shares in the lint industry. (And she definitely tells Delia about black magic and the negative opposite of the energies she embraces to freak her out make conversation)

Lydia is SO RELIEVED that Wednesday can see the Maitlands, and Wednesday is fascinated by their condition

Adam introduces Wednesday to the realm of dad jokes. She is not amused; he makes it his mission to get her to laugh/smile at AT LEAST one of his jokes. Wednesday is fascinated by how tangible and corporeal the Maitlands’ spectral form is and ends up discussing it for hours with Adam (since all of the seances she’s attended have been calling upon invisible spirits)

Barbara goes full on MomModeTM on Lydia. She tells Wednesday all the humiliating stories she knows about Lydia (Wednesday files away the “strange and unusual” comment for future teasing, as Lydia blushes). Of course she compliments Wednesday in all of her woe and how well she suits Lydia. Not to mention how happy she’s made her adopted daughter (cue even more blushing from Lydia). OKAY BUT PHOTO ALBUM TIME.

@gothic-but-will-fight-u and I headcanoned that the Maitlands totally dig out the photo album (Wednesday WILL see the customary picture of baby Lydia’s first bath whether they like it or not) but they know every page that has painful memories for Lydia to skip. Then a picture slips out and... there’s a sadness to Lydia that gets addressed when Wednesday excuses them to go to her bedroom. Cue a retelling of the events of Beetlejuice from when her mom became her dead mom.

Which, naturally, leads us onto the ghost with the most himself: BEETLEJUICE! My goodness the two couldn’t be more opposite and there’s immediate tension between the two. “You’re the one who’s stealing my best friend, huh? You’re smaller than I’d anticipated.”; “So you’re the demon who tried to marry my underage girlfriend, huh? You remember the pain you felt when you died? What if I told you I could triple that and make your afterlife into a deathly Hell. Consider it a threat and a promise.”; “Firstly, it was a green card thing. Secondly, I like this one, Lyds. Where’d you find her?” Lydia proudly proclaiming she found her in the cemetery. Wednesday and Beej have a relationship where they love to hate one another: both know Lydia would be unhappy without one of them, but they doesn’t stop them trying to mutilate one another.

[thevictoryofthepeople]

the ones who paint the world a little bit brighter, who can sing a little tune to cast the shadows away, who sees life through a different lens. the creatives are the ones blessed with an artistic hand, the ones graced with a passion for the arts in all its forms, the ones endowed with gifts meant to be shared with the rest of the world. they are similar, yet also contrasting. each of them with their own talents and skills, each of them with their own tale to tell through their medium, each of them with a story only able to be told without a rigid frame. open your mind and listen to the record - the creatives are happy to see you.

under the read more, please find the list of mortal muses falling under the category of the creatives. you can find them on this page as well as the other mortals using this link [ ✿ ]. for info regarding shipping, please go to the main muses page in my navigation ( their season is next to their age for easier finding ) or feel free to im me for more info. NOTE: individual pages are a work in progress

IF YOU WOULD LIKE A STARTER, PLEASE LIKE THIS. THANK YOU. 

ligaya tiffany bagayan ( 29 - light spring ):

the saving star, ligaya is currently a nurse by day and an aspiring actress by night. she’s hoping to achieve her dream, believing that despite her age she has the talent to make it on the silver screen

laya bulahan ( 23 - light summer ): 

the unbreakable freedom, laya is a big-time model and soloist. with a steady mind and silver tongue, she’s breaking down barriers and showing everyone that she’s ready to dominate the world

kang minwoo ( 24 - light summer ):

the graceful light, minwoo is a ballerina and contempary dancer / college student. despite soft demeanor often mistaken for fragility, he’s ready to spread his wings and soar away until he’s able to land on a marshmallow cloud or elegant stage, wherever he knows he’ll feel the most belonged

lee hojung ( 26 - light autumn ): 

the saddest eyes, hojung is a barista and cafe worker at his family’s cafe, chill hazelnut, while also attending college. with a heart of pure gold, he’s just doing his best to make others smile whether it’s through caffeine or sugar taken from the countless of pastries and drinks he’s crafted. but often times he’s wondering, if he’ll have a chance to have someone make him smile

fleur nguyen ( 24 - dark spring ):

the golden playwright, fleur is a playwright and broadway director who’s just trying to make a name for herself among a crowd that doesn’t seem to get her vision or frivolous nature. she’s bringing stories to life on a stage that will one day be able to bear the immense talent of the young woman with a golden hand

delancey pham ( 33 - light spring ): 

the endless film, delancey is a movie producer whose life seems to be a never-ending movie full of tropes, cliches, and plots only fathomable in movies and books. she’s just trying to do her best, trying to keep her smile

song kihyun ( 27 - dark summer ):

the lost cause, kihyun is a freelancer, working multiple jobs, and previously kicked out of k entertainment as a producer. a creative man with a list of talents that could go on for miles, his luck hasn’t been the best. he’s doing what he can to survive but always wishing that someone from above could give him a little blessing and help a cause that’s just a little lost

carel ira woodlock ( 23 - light summer ): 

the strong hand, carel is a college student at the university of california, santa barbara as a humanities major, and one of the college’s top swimmer. he’s swimming through life as leisurely as he can, just trying to find peace. he doesn’t know what he wants but he’s hoping he can figure it out along the way

zhang minghao ( 21 - dark spring ):

the lost half, minghao is a bookkeeper at an antique bookstore. with a rather terrible past resulting in the loss of someone special to him, he’s doing what he can to screw his head back on his shoulders and to keep on moving forward. he’s still having trouble fitting in but companionship can always go a long way

adrienne jessalyn zarel ( 23 - light winter ): 

the dark artist, adrienne is a freelance artist and part-time art teacher at a local high school. dealing with trauma through her art, she’s trying to piece by pieces she had once lost. but first she has to overcome the fear of imperfections in her art, and maybe then, she’ll finally be able to unlock the potential she’s always chained down

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

Everybody Needs a Hobby

Spike x Summers! Reader

Warnings: some colorful language, implied smut, S5 spoilers mentioned

Description: You’re frustrated with the crude reality of life in Sunnydale. You want something you can love that won’t go up in flames. One night, you pick up a poetry book from the library and Spike stops by to give you a vivid reading.

You need something to take you out of the violence of your everyday life.

You try painting. Relaxing watercolors aided by books you pick up at the library, bright acrylics splashed across canvases. Soon your room is filled with artwork that ranges from clumsy to talented. You start giving paintings away to make space. Birthday presents for your friends, surprises for elderly neighbors, just-because gifts for Spike to make his crypt more colorful (he laughs at them, hurts your feelings a little, but the next time you’re in his bed you see them peeking out from behind a curtain). It works, for awhile, but you crave something less solitary. Plus your artwork takes a darker turn when you wake up from nightmares, which is frequently.

You turn to yoga classes at the YMCA. Twisting your body into poses is a different kind of hell after a night out with Buffy, but the stretches take so much of your focus that they force you to stop overthinking. Then your instructor turns out to be a former genie with a sinister agenda and you have to drop the class. It was getting expensive anyway.

You join a intermural volleyball team, but after a gruesome loss one of your teammates takes up the dark arts. You start baking and almost burn the house down. Even community service gets dangerous when the blood bank is ambushed by vampires.

“I’m just so frustrated,” you explain to Dawn one morning at breakfast. “I mean, I love all of these things and I want them to work out, but Sunnydale poisons everything. It’s like I can’t even have a hobby on the Hellmouth.”

She peels a banana with manicured fingers. You dropped her and her friend off at the salon last week and now it’s like every motion has to be fit for a hand commercial. “Fighting vampires is a hobby.”

“No, it’s a full-time job,” Buffy says, swiping an apple off the counter. “And (Y/n) already has two of those.”

“Well, there you go.” Dawn shrugs on her backpack. “You don’t need a hobby.”

You do, though. Spike insists on supplementing your income with his, so you’ve cut down your hours at the office and you’re only taking weekends at the diner. For the first time in years, you have time to relax. You don’t want to waste it.

Buffy spots the sour look on your face and nudges your arm. She drops the core in the trash and washes her hands under the sink.

“Maybe it’s time to go back to school,” Buffy suggests. “I know it’s the middle of the semester, but you could apply for next year.”

You don’t want to make her feel bad, especially since she’s in the same situation as you, but school doesn’t feel urgent when you’ve got the apocalypse going on every other year. Plus you don’t even know what you’d major in. There’s no degree for monster fighting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You finish your yogurt, check the time on your watch. “Come on, Dawn, I’ll drive you to school.”

After you drop her off, you head into the office. It’s slow today. The coffee machine gurgles to life every thirty minutes to keep the employees awake and the copier sits silent in disuse. Barbara and Anne giggle together in the annex over a tin of buttered cookies. The phone rings at the reception desk only twice in the morning. When you answer, no one’s there.

You spend most of the day looking up courses that you might be interested in. There are a few that catch your eye, but you can’t fathom how you’d put them together into a degree.

One of them, creative writing, jumps out at you. You used to write when you were in your early teens. Mostly angstsy poetry about how no one understood you and how invisible you felt. It’s embarrassing to look back on now, but then it had felt like a statement to the world.

Writing made you feel known. You gave it up when you went to college, mostly because it seemed impossible that it would ever amount to anything and partly because you didn’t have the time or energy to focus on it. College seems silly now, all that effort for a paper degree when you know what’s really out there, but if you went back you wouldn’t be going just for the degree. You’d be going because you love to learn.

It’s not so important that you get published and famous anymore. You don’t need the spotlight when you’ve already got the most important job in the world: taking care of your sisters. It’s fine to work in the office and at the diner where you’re nothing more to people than another employee. You know you’re making a difference, even if they never will.

But your heart aches a little for what you might’ve had if life hadn’t gotten in the way.

That night, you stop by the library to pick up some books. Just to see if you still have a passion for them the way you used to. Sunnydale’s library is open until ten p.m. and you stay curled up in an armchair in the fiction section until close. You check out four books to take with you: a poetry anthology, Little Women, a collection of short stories from around the world, and a YA novel. You figure that if you try all different genres, maybe you’ll land on something you love.

Your walk back to the house is uneventful, thankfully (having just renewed your library card, you don’t want to have it revoked if something sinister takes a bite out of your books). You have a late night snack with Dawn since Buffy is still out hunting and then take your books up to your room.

You leave the window open so you won’t have to get up if Spike drops by and curl up in bed with the anthology, a notebook on your bedside table in case of inspiration. You’re not totally sure when he comes in; it feels like hours and seconds since you opened the book. The words are swirling around in the soft light of the room, bouncing off the bed frame and the dresser, colliding with your closet door and knocking the paintings askew in their frames.

“Shouldn’t leave your window open like that, love. Something wicked might find its way in.”

His shirt is off already, you register, as he peels the book from your fingers and kisses you deeply. You make a noise of protest against his mouth and he pulls back, eyebrows raised.

“What the hell book is that, to have you so absorbed you don’t even notice me come in?” He picks it up, dangles it in front of you. “Can’t be porn. Because, obviously, what you’ve got in front of you is better than porn. You Summers. All repressed and self-righteous. If it’s the bloody Bible or The Guide to Enlightenment or some—”

“Don’t make fun of me, William,” you retort, snatching it out of his grasp. “It’s a good book.”

“Must be,” he scoffs. Then he reads the cover. His features flicker through three different emotions in the span of five seconds. “Poetry?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not— Here, give me that.”

Grudgingly, you hand it over, and he settles in between your legs, his head resting on your breasts. He picks out the filthiest, most sexual poem he can find (which is still incredibly tame by his usual standards) and recites:

“‘I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me. I want it sleeveless and backless, this dress, so no one has to guess what’s underneath. I want to walk down the street—’”

His voice is low, soft, like he’s switched into someone else in the moments between his choosing the poem and his reading it. It makes you shiver. His hand slides up your thigh, at odds with his careful, thoughtful voice.

“‘I want to walk like I’m the only woman on earth and I can have my pick. I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me—’” At this, he shifts position, moves the underwear beneath your pajama shorts aside and slides a finger up. You bite your lip. “‘—To show how little I care about you or anything except what I want.’ I like that one, what about you? ‘Confirm your worst fears?’ ‘How little I care about you or anything except what I want?’ Sound like someone you know?”

You hardly realize he’s switched from the poem to conversation until he pauses his ministrations beneath the bedsheet. He’s angled toward you now, one hand twisted under the sheets and his back against your inner thigh, a toothy grin on his face as he repays you for earlier.

“You’re such an ass.”

He ignores this instead of cutting in with his typical I’m evil, duh speech, nuzzles your neck. “I’d like to get you into a dress like that, love. Have you walk down the street in it, showing off—” He sucks at the skin, hard. You cry out. “But then we have to have a way of letting everyone know you’re mine, don’t we?”

“Spike.” His name comes out a moan, a quiet prayer.

“You want another poem? I’m liking this book.”

He returns to his regularly upright seated position, pretends to adjust his reading glasses, then flips through the pages, leaving you wanting. He lands on a sonnet, airing the words out to the open room as you squirm. Finally, you decide to take matters into your own hands, but he stops you, bursting into a new stanza.

“Here in the electric dusk your naked lover tips the glass high and the ice cubes fall against her teeth...”

He replaces your fingers with his own, guiding you through the poem with a small circles. When you beg, he undresses for you, sets the book down.

“You’re just an erotic hallucination,” he breathes, touching everything as if to make sure that the line isn’t true.

He’s teasing, but a part of him clings to these words in a sad, sweet way. When he’s finished and you’re spent, he rolls over onto the other side of the mattress and his mood shifts again.

“I loved a girl once,” he says, and it stings, even though he talked about Dru often when you first started up and even before, like he wished to hurt you into wanting him. “I wrote her this poem. I used to write a lot, before. I was hopeless that way.”

His voice isn’t soft now. It’s almost angry, like he has been during sex at some points. Passionate and raw and mad at someone that wasn’t you. Flickering back and forth between past and present.

“You probably would’ve liked William,” Spike says. He barks a strangled laugh. “He was just your type. A scrawny mama’s boy who lived through his books.”

He was almost gentle earlier. You can’t understand why he switches like this, between acting like he can’t go on without you and twisting the knife. You roll onto your side.

“Might’ve been, once,” you murmur. This pillow talk is almost worse than the nights when he leaves right after to get his fix, claiming you’ve made him hungry. “Boys like that wouldn’t look twice at me now.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love.”

You can hear the smile in his voice though. He likes that your self-esteem is low. It feeds his ego, that he can hurt you even though he can’t drain you dry. He’s soulless, after all. On some level, he probably does need you like he says, but it’s not pure. It never will be. He can try to help you when it suits him, restrain himself from severing ties because he craves closeness, but he’s still Spike.

“They’re scared of me now.” Your arms cross under your breasts. You’re not self-flagellating tonight, not really. You’re in the mood for the truth. “They know.”

“Know what?”

“They know, on some level—” It sounds silly, only it isn’t, not to you. “—what I’ve done. And no amount of watercolors or yoga classes is going to change that.”

You didn’t realize it until you said it out loud, how much you were trying to be the girl you were before your mother’s death. How much you missed her and the almost casual slayage that was common before Glory. Sure, the world almost ended a couple times, but you knew how it would turn out in your heart. This— with Buffy, with Dawn— you have no idea.

You lapse into silence, purposefully even your breathing out so it seems you’ve fallen asleep. He gets up not long after, rustles around your room for a moment in a way that makes you nervous, and then pulls the window shut behind him as he exits onto the roof. You fall asleep at some point, drifting in and out of a dream featuring you at the office in a nightmare distortion of your boss’s birthday party until your alarm goes off.

You sit up and smack the button off, sending a piece of paper cascading to the floor. It isn’t until after you’ve brushed your teeth and fully woken up that you retrieve it. It takes you a full thirty seconds to process the first line of the pretentious and somewhat offensive poem Spike left you.

It’s disgusting. It’s explicit. It’s replete with words that you have to look up.

You love it.

When you go down to breakfast, Dawn cracks jokes about the dazed smile on your face until Buffy shushes her and sends her off to finish getting ready for school.

“Seriously, are you okay though?” she asks when the two of you are left to yourselves. You could ask her the same question, with the already scabbing gash on her forehead, but you settle for a quick shake of the head. You feel like you’re burning up, like she can see through you to all the things you did last night.

“No— I mean, I didn’t sleep well.” You pour yourself a cup of juice and take a seat at the table, trying to suffocate your grin. “But I think I found my new hobby.”

[crimziedrawings]

A Last Chance, Part 3

Immediately, Thomas straightened. “Absolutely not,”

Sophie sighed with exasperation. “Thomas-”

“Do not listen to anything he says, mama. It isn’t true,”

“I know that, darling. Please, excuse us for just a few minutes,”

Alastair watched as Thomas looked to his father, his eyes begging for him to do something.

He did that. He interrupted this family’s grieving, in their own home, and spat insults to their face. And now, the one he’s trying to redeem himself to, the one he cares about, is feeling useless, unable to prevent his mother from being left alone with Alastair.

“Sophie, my love-” Gideon began.

Sophie cut her husband off with a single glance. “I will not ask again.”

Gideon looked softly at his wife. The two of them seemed to be having a conversation that no one else understood. Eventually, he nodded and walked towards the library doors, pausing to ensure that Thomas and Eugenia were following. Eugenia stood silently, sparing one misty look towards her mother. Thomas shook his head and, reluctantly, left the library. The glare he gave Alastair held a promise that set his heart racing. Alastair watched the door close, wishing he could leave as well, fearing whatever came next.

“Please, sit,” Sophie said, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Alastair nodded, carefully sitting in the chair as not to seem disrespectful.

“You are dedicated, I see. I imagine it must’ve been very hard to come here, especially if my son knew of these sayings. He is very protective of his family, my Thomas. You said he was upset with you? If his actions today reflect any of his previous behavior towards you, I will talk to him. I cannot apologize on his behalf, however, as he is his own man and is fully capable of making his own decisions. Nevertheless, I can address him on how he treats others, even those who mistreat him. A mother’s job is never-ending,” Sophie finished with a sad look.

Alastair didn’t know what to say. Except, “I am sorry about Barbara,”

Sophie looked away, but Alastair saw the glossy eyes. She exhaled slowly, composing herself before turning back to Alastair. She gave him a slight nod and he knew that that was all she could muster. She did not want to grieve the loss of her daughter with a stranger.

“You know, my husband was very much like you when he was your age,”

This was shocking. Gideon Lightwood, the real side of Gideon Lightwood, was only ever kind and understanding. Alastair could not fathom Gideon as cruel as he is- was.

“His father was… a difficult man. A sick man,” she continued. “He was an elitist of a sort. Arrogant and proud. And he taught his sons to be the same way. I had never met Gideon in this stage when I was a servant at the Institute.” As she said this, she straightened her chin, almost daring Alastair to react in an ill manner. “But I had heard stories.”

Despite the serious atmosphere, she smiled. “Then he took his travel year to Spain,”

Thomas had went to Spain as well, Alastair realized with a pang.

“Spain had transformed him, had erased his father’s voice in his head, he told me. Though it did not make him a better man. He did that himself. He realized the ideas his father practiced were not right and he turned away from him. But he did not leave his family. He worked to save his siblings, in particular Gabriel who was gobbling up every word his father said, not bothering to think for himself. He never gave up. Not on his brother, not on himself…. not on me. You see the kind of man he is now?”

Alastair did not want to break her flow so he simply nodded. But it seemed she had a different idea.

“And what do you see?”

He thought about it, recalling all that he had observed about Gideon Lightwood. “He’s kind and patient and… honorable,” he finished, with a new respect for the man.

“But he was not always so. He learned. He grew. And before he became better, what had motivated him, was his pain. He did not like the man he was. He did not like the relationships he had with those around him. So, before there was a change, there was suffering,” Sophie’s head tilted as she looked at Alastair with a gentle look. “Are you suffering?”

Alastair was taken aback by the turn of conversation. She so easily changed the topic to Alastair, as if he were part of it all to begin with. He did not know how to answer. He didn’t have to answer, he realized. He didn’t owe this woman anything. But that mysterious ability of hers, working so much like the Mortal Sword, was drawing his words out before he even understood what he was saying. “Yes… I have been for a while, I suppose,” he said, looking down at his hands.

Alastair felt betrayed by his own self. He did not realize how much he was hurting; He did not even realize he was hurting at all.

“My dear, I am sorry,” Sophie said.

Alastair head shot up. “You? Sorry for what?”

Sophie was still looking at him with that soft look in her eyes. “For everything. I am sorry you followed the wrong people. I am sorry for whatever situation you were in that allowed a little boy to think and speak with such hatred. I am sorry that it was never dissolved, that you had no one to help you. I am sorry that you are lost and in pain,”

Alastair could feel the tears running down his face, but he did not care. He was absolutely disgusted with himself for ever believing such wrong accusations about this woman. He was immediately filled with rage as he remembered those that still whisper about her to this day. She did not deserve this. She was better than any of the pure-blooded Nephilim he had met, and Alastair would not be surprised if she were made by the angels themselves.

Sophie moved to sit on the coffee table so she was directly in front of Alastair. “You say you want to fix yourself? There is nothing to fix. We all have a past to be ashamed of,” Something dark flickered in her eyes, so quick that Alastair thought he imagined it. “But we wouldn’t be who we are today if the past did not happen. Hide the shame all you want, but don’t ignore it,”

Alastair nodded, the tears still streaming. Before, he would’ve hated the idea of being so vulnerable in her presence. Now, he felt it was only natural to do so.

Sophie reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I forgive you, Alastair Carstairs,”

Alastair had never felt so light.

°°°

Alastair Carstairs is dedicated to becoming a better man. This means owning up to his actions in the past. He starts with the family that he hurt the most, the Lightwoods. But he leaves the family’s home filled with a mixture of emotions, after the reactions he received from them.

This is part three of a story about Alastair Carstairs facing the Lightwoods, because before I can accept Thomastairs, I need Alastair to own up to his actions.

Tags: @thatdemonicchild @fairchild-squad @daisyherxndale @lizlightwood-herondale @vampire-mojo-strikes-again

Let me know if you would like to be tagged as well!

[ohyangchon]

Thinking some thoughts with @genshin-impact-ocs‘s little questionnaire, so here goes: 

What’s their occupation?

Zhengde 正德 is a merchant by trade, working out of Liyue Harbor from a boat that seemingly leads nowhere. In truth, most of his items are rarities he transports from the Guyun Stone Forest, braving the often perilous, monster-infested islands to bring the best types of knick-knacks in and around Liyue. 

• Do they have any effect on the main plot of Genshin Impact? How?

Zhengde would come in handy when the Traveler inevitably tries to enter Inazuma (if you get what I mean) ;) 

• What’s your character’s plotline? Do they have any side quests associated with them?

As it were, Zhengde, like most of the merchants in Liyue, has something for sale: he usually sells trinkets and 1* common Liyue items such as Cor Lapis and Jueyan Chilis to unsuspecting tourists (this is not because I am very angry farming the 2 items or anything). However, he occasionally offers Daily Commissions for the Traveller to “fetch him something good”, which usually is a 2* drop ranging from a Sharp Arrowhead to a Black Bronze Horn, and rewards them with Primogens and a random Character Ascension item. 

In truth, Zhengde is a retired adventurer himself, hence the often perilous trade route through Liyue itself. He’d grown up in the peaceful Qingce Village, and while he was happy there, he was inevitably bored and jealous of those who’d gained Visions (thus protected and chosen by the gods). This bred a rebellious resentment within him when he’d eventually left home, claiming he was learning the tricks of the trade from some now-dissolved sect and thus gaining some skill with a sword. 

His plotline explores Zhengde’s travels across Liyue while he attempts to make a name of himself as a non-Vision wielding wandering swordsman, as well as the death of his partner Jisu 急速 at the hands of the Geo Hypostatis they’d discovered. The Traveller eventually finds out that Zhengde’s Vision was the one Jisu had, and how Zhengde’s guilt prevents him from leaving the Guyun Stone Forest until he sees the Geo Hypostatis destroyed at least once (in order for him to retrieve Jisu’s shattered remains, now melded amongst the stone and rocks of the ancient elemental). 

Eventually, he joins the Traveller as a mixed Bow/Sword user after overcoming his grief, alternating between his own sword charged with Electro energy but being able to swap to Jisu’s refashioned guzheng to use as a bow. 

• How did your character gain their Vision and/or Delusion?

Zhengde was never chosen or cared for by the Archons throughout his journey, but in his rebellious streak working across Liyue in a bid to prove that he was just as powerful without a Vision, he’d fallen in with an Electro-wielding wanderer named Jisu, who had crossed swords with him and seemed impressed by Zhengde’s fine-honed skills even without the power of the elements. 

They made a sworn pact as blood brothers at the Wangshu Inn, witnessed by Huai’an himself, and soon set out on an adventure on a grander scale: to destroy one of the legendary, ancient elementals that moved around the coast of Liyue as a final testament against the Archons that they were unstoppable. Jisu, a musician who channeled his Electro abilities through a guzheng, managed to charm one of the ferrymen into letting them borrow his fishing boat, sailing out towards the domain of the Geo Hypostatis, one of the elementals that Jisu would reassure Zhengde that was the “easiest to deal with”, because they were under the sky of the Geo Archon, and destroying the Geo Hypostatis was making an offering to Him. 

While they fought long and hard against the now-activated and threatened elemental, it was obvious that Jisu was compensating for Zhengde’s only-human endurance, and when the Hypostatis triggered a rockslide in its thrashing, he’d pushed Zhengde out of the way, becoming buried himself in the mud and rock while never to be seen again. Zhengde eventually woke up on one of the islands, surrounded by curious hilichurls and with Jisu’s Vision tightly clutched in his left fist. His guilt and anger about being unable to protect his only friend triggered something deeper inside Zhengde, something that finally wasn’t an act of petty rebellion, and the Vision reacted to him, charging his blade with Electro energy as he carved a bloody path through the hilichurls and back towards civilisation. He knew he would live with the burden of losing his friend. There was simply nothing he could do about it. 

• Is your character in love with any of the characters? Which one and why?

Zhengde does not have room in life for love, but he does respect Keqing, not only for being a fellow Electro Sword user, but their shared ideal that Visions are not what should be acknowledged in a person’s capabilities for adventure, but what they truly are inside. 

• What is your character’s greatest fear? Their greatest desire?

Zhengde’s greatest fear is being unable to live up to Jisu’s legacy, and seeks to ensure that this will never happen. His greatest desire is to see the Geo Hypostatis destroyed by his own hands, though he’s aware that this will not avenge Jisu’s death in any way. 

• Do they have any biological family left? If they do, what is their relationship to those family members?

Zhengde does have parents and siblings still in Qingce Village, which he writes letters to from time to time. It is noted in the narration that he often lies about his current travels, and seems to keep informing his family about his work with the late Jisu as if he were alive. 

• Who would voice your OC?

The dream would be have Michael Miu as Zhengde’s original Chinese voice claim (the man is in his late 40s), but kjdfkfdj I’m not super familiar with English actors to tell you otherwise. 

• Do they enjoy Xiangling’s slimy dishes?

Zhengde appreciates any food put on the table, and tends to be more gentle in his critique about matters. Decades of travelling alone, scrimping on anything he can get his hands on means he ended up with a decent fortitude. 

• Do they enjoy Barbara’s singing? Why or why not?

He doesn’t quite mind it, though he admits that he’s a little out of the loop with the latest Mondstat hits. He’s more of a Liyue-esque opera type of person, but he fully understands that not everyone is appreciative of theatre singing. 

• What do they think of the Archons?

A mixture of fear and resentment at this point. He despises the fact that they never answered his heed when he needed them most, yet had the audacity to recognise him at the lowest point of his life, but he also respects that they have power over a mere mortal like him in ways that is impossible to fathom...don’t tell him about Venti or Zhongli, he might tear them a new one 

[itsbxtgirl-a]

that’s my girl // stephbabs

WHO: Barbara Gordon & Stephanie Brown. Mentions of Tim Drake and Ra’s al Ghul.

WORD COUNT: 2171 words.

LOCATION: Wayne Manor.

GENERAL NOTES: Babs comes to visit Stephanie post her return to Gotham. Stephanie is unsure of her footing and what to do next, how to go on. A spark of an idea and a change is made. 

WARNINGS: Mentions of injuries, past trauma, violence.

STEPH: Tim's room was practically silent, Steph staring at the cracked screen of her phone she had found in Tim's room. Occasionally it lit up, Steph staring until it went dark once more. The lockscreen made her heart clench each time she saw the photo of her pressed against Tim's chest, his arm around her and smiles on their faces. She felt numb to the tears that slid down her cheeks and dried there, making the bandage across the gash on her cheek damp. Ra's' personal reminder of Tim she'd now have for the rest of her life. The reminder she was the reason Tim was sent to his doom, his death in her eyes.

A choked out sob escaped the shaking blonde, her curling up in on herself as much as she could without her ribs and shoulder screaming in protest. The sharp knock on Tim's bedroom door had her wanting to just scream out. "Go away!" She shouted. "I'm not hungry, thirsty, nor do I want to see anyone! Just leave!" Her words were punctuated with a broken sob, burying her face in Tim's pillow and giving into the urge to scream until she couldn't anymore.

Every bit of her was cracked into a thousand pieces and Steph had no idea how she was going to put them back together anytime soon.

BABS: The shout cut harshly even through the door, and Barbara almost considered listening. She could remember that feeling, wanting to crawl out of her own skin, never wanting anyone to look at her again. She still felt it sometimes. There was a reason she spent the majority of her life tucked away in her clock tower, surrounded by firewalls both electronic and physical. There were very few who could slip past them so easily, and Steph was one of them.

Steph who was on the other side of the door sobbing, her own firewall in place. Barbara pushed through, because Steph was stubborn and determined and positive and had steadfastly broken through every one of Barbara's walls, and there was no way she'd leave her alone. Even if that meant leaving her tower, even if it meant coming to Wayne Manor. Sometimes walls were meant to be pushed down.

She pressed the door shut quietly behind her and wheeled up next to the bed. Touch wasn't right, not unless Stephanie expressly wanted it, but she was close. "You know, I'd listen, but a while ago I made a promise to you that you'd never be alone. That's not just on the streets, Steph. I'm here."

STEPH: The door opened and Steph curled her fingers up into the fabric of the sheet on Tim’s bed. Then it shut. Another scream started to form in her chest, heart thumping and the hurricane of emotions she couldn’t pick apart started to grow until she heard that familiar voice.

Babs. Original Batgirl, her mentor and one of the people she trusted the most. Would she think she’s weak too? That she should have been better? The thought made her choke back a sob.

“It’s my fault.” Steph finally whispered, back towards Babs as she laid there. “I didn’t—I didn’t even get to see him. He wouldn’t let me see him. I killed him. I sent him off to his death at the hands of his worst nightmare all because I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t careful.” She was spiraling now, breath hiccuping as the tears rolled down her cheeks once more.

BABS: "Hey, hey." Barbara finally reached out, one hand resting on Steph's shaking shoulder. She couldn't see her face (maybe that was intentional), but she could hear the pain in every hiccup, in the way her words started to tumble.

She thought of rooftops and soft voices through the comms, the first time someone slipped through Stephanie's fingers. That sinking feeling that nothing will ever make better, and how this was worse. This wasn't some nameless loss, this was Tim.

"You are not responsible for the actions of evil men. There is one person responsible for this, and it's not you. Blaming yourself is like..." Blaming herself for opening the door. The thought caught, and she let it slip away, sinking somewhere deep and heavy in her chest. "You did everything you could, if I know you at all. Tell me you didn't get a few good zings in."

Another pause, "And you know we'll find him. I won't rest until we know where he is."

STEPH: Steph could hear Babs' words, make sense of them and comprehend them, but she didn't believe them. There was a reason she had stepped back from Batgirl, feeling a crippling dread that she would never measure up to Babs herself. This just proved it in her mind, she got the love of her life sent off to his worst nightmare all because she was the worst bat of them all.

A shudder wracked through the blonde and she sobbed weakly, finally turning to look at Babs head on. The bandage covered the majority of her cheek, left eye swollen still and purple and black bruises covered the pale skin there. "It doesn't matter, does it? I still lost. He didn't...he didn't even let me see him. I didn't even get to tell him I was sorry." She gasped out, feeling like her chest was moments away from caving in on itself.

"Ra's—" Even saying his name turned Steph's stomach and she paled considerably, shaking her head and going silent instead of finishing her thought. "...I killed him, Babs. He chose to save me. I'm not worth that."

BABS: "Don't you ever, ever say you are not worth it. Steph–" Barbara moved her hand to cup Stephanie's cheek, running a thumb gently to wipe away the tears. Gentle for bruises and cuts and injustices. "Look at me. You are worth more than you will ever know."

Stephanie had shown up in Barbara's life during a time in which she thought she'd never be happy again. Not truly, not easily. She'd tucked herself away so completely, both physically and emotionally, even her doctor was beginning to question why she never smiled. It took time, but Stephanie changed all of that. Stephanie with her quips and determination and bright smiles even the face of overwhelming odds. Stephanie who plowed through Barbara's warnings and walls.

She was worth it. And clearly Tim Drake thought so as well.

"Ra's is vile, and he will not get away with this." Her voice cut, no room for argument. "He's the one to blame. You did not make him take you, you did not make him take Tim, you have nothing to apologize for. The only one who benefits from you blaming yourself is him. Don't let him make you doubt yourself."

STEPH: Steph's eyes reluctantly shifted over to look at Babs' face, heart dropping. Her eyes fluttered shut weakly at the touch to her cheek and she let out a weak sob. This was Babs, the one who she strived so hard to be good for. To impress and make proud. Her doubt and fears in herself made her step away from the Batgirl mantle she had been so attached to. She saw the good in her even when Steph didn't see it herself. So why was she having such a hard time believing her in saying she was worth it.

"I don't know what else to do, Babs." Steph whispered weakly. The dark cloud that hung over her head seemed to infect every crevice and corner of Tim's room, it was saturated in her devastation. "I'm hanging up the suit. I can't be Spoiler anymore. It's...it's tainted now. All I can think of when I even try to think of going out again is how I let Tim down." Maybe next time you'll be more careful. Maybe next time you'll be more careful. Maybe next time—

The tears wouldn't stop. She didn't know how to make them stop, rolling down her cheeks and her breath hitching with each staggering breath. "I don't know what to do anymore."

BABS: Barbara paused, running a hand along the top of her thigh. She couldn't feel it, she hadn't been able to feel it in a long time. It was the getting back up that had been the hardest part. It wasn't that she'd failed, but the road ahead had looked like one failure after another. There were no next steps, there was only a suit on a rack she'd never wear again. But she got up. If only to prove him wrong.

"Do you remember the first time someone slipped from your grasp?" Barbara could. Curse her perfect memory, she could hear it. Stephanie's broken 'no,' and the quiet defeat when she said she was done. Her first loss, and Batgirl was back on a shelf. "You wanted to quit then, too. Being a hero just wasn't for you. But you got back up, Stephanie. You got back up, and you went on to take down the person actually responsible."

Her hand stilled, moving from her lap to the hand rim of her chair in a white-knuckled grip. Bringing up the past was a calculated risk. "You're stronger, better than you think, always have been. Don't complicate what comes next. You get up. Get up because Ra's was wrong to ever mess with you, or because you're stronger than he led you to believe, or to prove you can. Just get back up, and we'll figure the rest out from there."

STEPH: That question took the wind out of Steph. How could she forget? You never forget the first failure. The heart stopping moment where your best wasn't enough. It had broken her. The good guys were always supposed to win, right? That's how it was supposed to go anyways, but life has a funny way of proving you just how wrong you can be. The good guys don't always win, you can't always save everyone.

Babs was right, she always was. There was still the mere thought of grabbing her Spoiler gear and putting it on made her feel sick. It felt almost tainted now, like she couldn't even fathom wearing it when she held that mantle while Tim was taken to his worst nightmare. Whether she was convinced or not, she felt responsible. She could have been better.

"...I don't know how to get up this time. If I get back up, it can't be as Spoiler. I can't do that. Ra's ruined that for me. He...he ruined so many things, Babs. I have to hang it up. I just...I don't know what to do next now."

BABS: "Then try a different suit." The implication was clear. There was a symbol they'd shared once, both making it their own in different ways, but ultimately holding up the same mantle. As resistant as Barbara had been at first, she'd come to find Stephanie wore it well. She'd go head to head with anyone who dared say otherwise.

Unfortunately, the loudest protestor had been Stephanie herself, and the suit had found a familiar home on a rack. Barbara only begrudged her the change a little. Spoiler was Stephanie's, there were no shoes to fill.

But she wondered if Steph knew she never had to fit Barbara's boots, she only had to make them her own. That...

"I've told you before, I'll say it again. The suit you wear, that only gets you so far, Stephanie. Anyone can scare off a mugger with the bat symbol or a hood. The big stuff? That's you. It's always been you, and Ra's will never ruin that for you. Don't let him."

STEPH: Steph was quiet for a long, long moment. The implication was entirely too clear. Batgirl. It was a thought Steph had put in a box and shoved to the back of her mind. It had been a lot, the pressure she had put on herself to manage filling Babs' shoes. She had fallen, terrified of not being enough. She never wanted to let Babs down especially. She had much more faith in her than she thought was deserved.

Tears stung at her eyes for what felt like the millionth time. Letting out a shaky breath, Steph swallowed hard and looked at Babs. Batgirl. Batgirl. Batgirl. It was a loop in her mind on repeat, feeling entirely too much like coming home, yet moving out on her own to face the world standing on her own two feet.

Steph would do this for her. For Tim. For Babs. To show that bastard that he wouldn't get away with doing this to Tim, to her. Letting out a weak noise, Steph nodded rapidly and wiped at her face. "He won't. I can't...I can't let him. Not to me. Not to Timmy."

The fire was dim, burning barely bright enough, but a spark could lead to a flame. The flame could cause a forest fire and Stephanie Brown was a force to be reckoned with now. She'd make sure of that.

[kaseykourageous]

I often see younger versions of myself as different people. Separating them from me— maybe because my memory can’t grasp the process. I was probably 8 years old in this photo, around TWO decades ago lol. Each year this ornament hangs on my parents’ Christmas tree. // Ten years ago I was 19 + came out to my family. The few years that followed were arguably my darkest, suffering to fit the shape of expectation. I got a tattoo. Tried college. Stole from a friend. Nursed a broken heart. Nearly joined the marines. Told enough lies to choke a politician. I threw the dice + moved to Santa Barbara. My hometown + that closet were the first of many prisons I’d escape. It was then that I gave myself permission to live openly queer, pursue my dreams, + be happy. A crack in the wall I’d been smashing myself against. I fell in love with a man + moved to Los Angeles. Halfway into our four-year relationship I cheated on him + found new shame. Regret, remorse, growth. Against all odds we forged reconciliation + a bond stronger than romance. I’ve been in LA now for over five years, chasing dreams + disproving the mythology of “impossible” things. Learning hard ways I wasn’t prepared for, + unlearning things I never should have been taught. It’s been a decade of duality + paradox. So much fear + joy + pain + bliss all at once. My journey is liberation. Passion manifested in music, sex, expression, relationships, communication. My greatest work is ceaseless, in my mind. Lifting ideas + summoning truth. A Picasso of anarchist agnostic hedon-nihilist colors. This year a friend told me that “time is a social construct” lol. I laughed harder then than I do now. I wish you all peace + love + freedom....in the new year, + the new decade, + for as long + far as consciousness can fathom. (at Battle Ground, Washington) https://www.instagram.com/p/B6wf9LfBQPv/?igshid=luz0tj03uxjh

[ghostandblog]

A Sudden Change of Mind

FF.NET / AO3

Summary:  Sucy ponder some details of her new relationship with Akko while crossing paths with a certain duo.

Pairing: Akko Kagari and Sucy Manbavaran

Word count:  1,832

Sucy opened their dorm room door, slowly, looking carefully as if there was someone outside who would catch her in the act of something, but the emptiness of the hallway reassured her that there was nothing to worry about.

After she stepped outside, Akko followed suit, coming out of their room at a quicker speed, licking her own lips a little. While she closed the door, the brunette made a mental note to buy some chocolates for Lotte as a thank you gift for agreeing to leave the room for a while, so that she could finally have the chance to talk to their alchemist friend alone.

The Japanese girl still remembered the lavender's skeptical eyes when their orange haired friend claimed she needed to go out for some "emergency errands" on town. She recollected how scared she felt at the moment, fearing that the alchemist could see right through her intentions, the chance that she would reject her right before she could even ask, or that she would casually also need to leave the room to go find some mushrooms outside, or even the possibility that she herself would chicken out and just pretend like there was nothing to talk about, and just act like Lotte left the two of them alone in a totally-non-suspicious manner without any ulterior motive at all.

But even though all of that happened less than an hour ago, Akko started to feel those fears and scary possibilities running wildly through her mind as if they were just a distant point of her past, simply because she was now enjoying the relief that in the end, everything had worked out alright. Because in the end, Sucy had said yes.

The subject of Akko's affections turned around to look at her, with her tired expression facing the brunette's ruby eyes, "So, um… do you want to go for an ice cream…or something? That's what girlfriends do, right?"

Suddenly taken away from her thoughts, Akko gave her the goofiest, yet most charming smile the alchemist has seen from her yet, "Woah, the prettiest girl in school is my girlfriend now AND I get free ice cream too? Did I hit the jackpot or what?"

Having said that and without notice, the brunette girl took her girlfriend's hand and closed her eyes, all while getting closer to give her a kiss. The lavender girl's eyes widened and quickly stepped aside, almost letting the Japanese girl fall on the floor if it wasn't for Sucy's arm. Even if she moved, she didn't let go her hand.

Once she got her balance back Akko stared at the alchemist in confusion, but quickly understood her mindset when she saw her frantically watching around, as if confirming that there was no one observing them. As dense as she was, Sucy's reaction was obvious.

Akko lowered her voice even though there was hardly someone who could hear them around, the halls remaining as empty as they were back when they left the dorm room. Despite being barely a whisper, her next words resonated loudly in the lavender's ears.

"Do you want to keep this a secret?"

The tone of her voice was calm and understanding, yet Sucy could feel the disappointment in her words. They really should have discussed this beforehand.

"Yeah, well… I have an image to maintain, you know…" The lavender girl tried to joke, brushing off the situation as if to reassure herself that it was no big deal.

Akko looked at her eyes, chucking a little. "To who?"

The alchemist blinked a couple of times, before letting go the Japanese girl's hand and resuming their path. Even if that little question was not meant to be serious, these two words managed to startle her internally. The fact that Akko was so understanding about it may be what bothered her the most. Sucy would honestly have preferred if she was a bit mad. She could have dealt with that.

Looking away from Akko as they advanced, the lavender started to feel a tiny bit of shame at how quickly she managed to ruin her girlfriend's ecstatic mood in just their first day together. Is that how it was gonna be from now on? Limiting their affections and interactions just within their little dorm room, and pretending to be just friends anywhere else?

It's not that Sucy was embarrassed by being seen with her. If anything, she assumed it should be the other way around. She felt a part of her thinking that Akko deserved better than that. And a smaller part of her wondering if she could ever give it to her.

Sucy frowned a little, without Akko's notice. She didn't want this day, of all days, to find herself having these kinds of thoughts, thoughts of inadequacy, or not being good enough for her friends, stuff usually kept buried deep, deep down on the metaphorical little vault hidden within her heart.

She tried to think of something else, trying not to ruin a pretty good day with that kind of worries, when something else caught her attention. From the opposite side of the hallway, Sucy could recognize two figures walking towards them, a black haired girl and a redhead with a yellow bow. Two figures that if alone would not stand out, together were unmistakable. Chatting and giggling, Hannah and Barbara stepped through the hall towards the direction of the other two girls.

They were in better terms now, as much as they could be, but these two still loved a good gossip more than anything else in the world. If they found out that she and Akko were together, half of the school would know. And if they were asked to keep it a secret, the entire school would know.

Akko seemed to be aware of this, as the duo got closer to them, she looked at Sucy with the same understanding smile as before. The alchemist inspected those ruby eyes from what it felt like hours, finally giving the brunette a small smile, as she turned around to face the two newcomers before Akko could notice the smirk forming on Sucy's lips, a new determination on her mind.

To who? Why did she care anyways, really?

Both Hannah and Barbara stopped their conversation as they walked right past the two members of the red team. Before, they wouldn't have even bothered to acknowledge their presence, or if they were in a particularly good mood they would throw a cruel joke at their expense. These days, they would sometimes wave their hand at each other, but rarely anything else. This time, however, Sucy decided to chat a little bit.

"Hi Hannah, Hi Barbara," the alchemist said while looking at Barbara and Hannah respectively, "What are you two doing up here?"

The false jovial tone of her voice wasn't lost on Akko, who quickly realized that something was up. The two members of the blue team exchanged confused expressions, not sure what to make of the lavender girl sudden interest in their lives. This was most definitely a set-up, but for what, they couldn't fathom. Just after a little bit of silence, Hannah decided to answer.

"Well, Barbara and I were going to study some of the spells for our test tomorrow, you know, something that you two could also be doing…" She said while giving a quick glance to Akko. For a brief second the redhead girl considered ending the conversation there, but decided to apply some common courtesy to her now frien-ahem, acquaintances, "What about you two, are you going somewhere?"

"Oh, you know. Just going to get some fresh air with my girlfriend" The alchemist grabbed the Japanese girl by the waist as she said this, much to her confusión.

The two blue team members looked at each other with a dumbfounded expression, now their shared irritation replaced with genuine surprise. This time Barbara being the one to talk, "Wow, we didn't know you two were, like, together…"

Akko could feel her cheeks getting warmer, she assumed her blush was also noticeable.

"Ah, you know how it is, is pretty hard to ignore the charms of someone when you keep living with them in the same room for too long" While she said this, Sucy moved just slightly a little from her previous position at Akko's side and hugged her from behind, while giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before continuing talking, "Isn't that right, my little guinea pig?"

Akko's face was red as a tomato now.

Sucy almost let out a small snicker. She knew that the two girls' reaction would be amusing, but she found Akko's embarrassment pretty endearing as well, "Sorry, but we gotta go now. Good luck with your studying, make sure to not get too distracted".

She whispered her next words while putting the palm of her hand near her mouth, in an almost exaggeratedly cartoonish manner.

"Oh, and by the way, this is supposed to be a secret. Don't let me down, you two".

And with that, she and Akko kept walking while the other two girls stayed there for a couple of minutes, blinking at each other and overanalyzing these last words, all while feeling as if they were two little kids trusted to keep safe a pot of gold and not buy mountains of candy with it. It was gonna be hard to concentrate on their studying now.

"Are you sure you are the Sucy I know?" Akko questioned while holding Sucy's hand with their fingers interlocked, "You know how these two are…do you really think that was a good idea? I mean, do you think it was worth it just to mess with Hannah and Barbara for that one moment?"

The alchemist's expression remained as stoic as ever. Akko was internally amazed at how she didn't let things bother her, genuine admiration in how she could be the master of her own emotions.

"Well, things have been pretty calm around here lately… kinda boring. So I felt like we needed a little something to spice things up, you know?"

As she talked, Sucy let go the brunette's hand for a second, taking it again but this time rubbing in small circles with her thumb.

"And besides, the best part of hitting the jackpot is to rub it on everyone's faces" Sucy continued, her stoic expression slowly shaping into a huge grin, showcasing at full length the sharp, pointy teeth that characterized her, "Wouldn't you agree?"

Akko giggled, happily looking at the familiar smile that she, with time, learned to stop fearing and being nervous about, thinking how she slowly began to enjoy it's sight, recognizing said expression as a sign of the alchemist enjoying herself and having a good time… even if it meant doing it with her typical machiavelic nature. Yup, that was the Sucy she knew alright.

"By the way, Akko, you are the one paying for that ice cream".

"Oh, C'mon!"

A/N: thinking back and re-reading some parts from this, i think there is definitely some stuff i would have changed or could have done better but at the same time i’m pretty content with it, being essentially my first fic, i’m just glad to see it done! i’ll make sure to try to get the help of some beta readers for my next one.

english is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any misspellings or anything! thank you very much for reading, criticisms or comments are very welcome!