#best realme tv

[bisclavret]

like many who have suffered at the hands of bbc merlin before me, i recently indulged in a thought experiment in which i outlined my own version of seasons 3-5 that stay thematically and tonally in line with the show (except they're less fucking stupid). but then i quickly realized that focusing on details is pointless: all you need is to solve the one Big Problem the show has, and the rest will follow. the problem in question? ✨morgana✨

i like the first two seasons. s1 achieves what it sets out to do and has fun while doing it, and s2, while flawed, sets up a ton of potential that the following seasons unfortunately squander, beginning with the insidious season 3. you can only distract me with cute knights and goblins and fart jokes for so long before i start seeing through you, evil, evil season of television.

my hypothesis is that if the writers had crafted s3 morgana into anything more sympathetic than a violent half-alive poltergeist that can never be reasoned with because she's suddenly terminally off her rocker, everything would've fallen into place. a sympathetic morgana would've made real, valid arguments against uther (and arthur) that wouldn't just be the ramblings of a woman possessed. her betrayal of arthur would have stemmed from her feeling increasingly morally superior to him because of his complacency in the face of their father's tyranny. under morgause's guidance she would stop believing that arthur is capable of change, and the whole point would be that she might actually be right. arthur would have to actively try and prove her wrong, instead of getting praised for doing the bare minimum because the bar is on the floor.

furthermore, morgana's prophetic dream about arthur and gwen becoming king and queen and her decision to prevent this however she can is a direct parallel to merlin learning about that same prophecy and making it happen by any means necessary. merlin's desires about his and arthur's futures are subtextually fueled by gay love and devotion, so why couldn't morgana's be? why couldn't she properly express her bitterness that arthur gets to be with gwen in a way she can't "took gwen away" from her, instead of suddenly declaring that gwen is nothing more than a servant, after two seasons of demonstrating again and again that she loves, values, and respects gwen more than anyone else in that godforsaken castle?

following this, an angry and emotionally volatile but still sensible morgana asking gwen to stay by her side during the coup of the castle in the s3 finale and gwen going behind her back to help arthur and the knights would've hurt like a bitch. double-sided betrayal! gwen having a real plot! the proper beginnings of a toxic yuri that would shape a generation!

then there's the utter hubris of having morgana shoot arrows at the same civilians she worried herself sick over for 2 seasons — even morgan, her medieval counterpart that was rooted in every sexist trope in existence, doesn't just go around killing senselessly but instead has (often petty!) personal vendettas against gwen, arthur, and the knights. morgana had every right to be sick of the pretensions around chivalry in camelot (she was always quick to mock it, even in s1), and to lash out at the knights and soldiers after years of feeling powerless in a castle full of armed men that blindly followed her oppressor. the show conveniently forgets that morgana was victimized as a woman as well as a sorcerer those first 2 seasons.

but like i said, this is not just about morgana. allowing her to remain a real and multifaceted character even as she betrays everyone in pursuit of her ambitions would've given the rest of the core four more interesting conflict to work with: merlin because he would have to experience real consequences to his actions, arthur because he would watch his sister go against his father (and his knights, and his birthright) and experience some actual internal dilemmas about it, and gwen because she would be forced to choose between morgana and arthur without the pretense that it's an obvious or easy choice for her to make.

even morgause and gaius would come off more interesting as mentors: neither one inherently evil or inherently good, both jaded by events that happened before our protagonists were even born, both heavily influencing morgana and merlin into fulfilling roles that they think are appropriate, but that morgana and merlin may not have chosen for themselves had they not been under their care.

you get the gist. if the show followed its own setup, morgana's mistakes wouldn't lie in cheap and senseless acts of violence but in alienating the people she loves because she is too hurt and jaded to trust them. meanwhile, everybody else would feel guilt over "failing" her and yet they would be too caught up in their own (sometimes flawed!) beliefs of right and wrong to truly see her point of view.

arthur would convince himself it was sorcery that corrupted her. merlin would know that isn't true but he wouldn't be able to argue without confessing everything, which is the defining conflict between him and morgana and it's cheapened when she's just an evil witch caricature and merlin is framed as inherently virtuous in contrast. gwen, too, would become a more active participant in her own life by choosing arthur over morgana and choosing to rule camelot with him instead of just waiting politely to see where things go.

and, of course, uther's downfall and death would be quick, final, and completely earned — when and why did the show even decide he of all people was the sympathetic villain, anyway?

lastly, and perhaps controversially, i think morgana should've learned merlin's true identity by season 4. her being the first of the main characters to find out makes perfect sense considering their shared history and their interconnected and mirrored arcs. even the show seems to agree, considering she does find out a little before arthur. but the narrative itself tried pointing flashing neon arrows towards this way earlier — there is a whole entire episode in s4 where merlin being emrys is repeatedly spelled out for morgana and she still isn't allowed to see it. that episode makes her look like the stupidest person to ever live, which is pretty funny im not gonna lie, but also another frustrating thing in the endless string of frustrating things that make up this show.

morgana learning that merlin has magic would've transformed the source of merlin's anxiety from a crippling fear of being outed someday to the crippling fear of knowing she could out him at any moment. this would make him want to beat her to the punch (perhaps he'd consider killing her for a minute and decide against it because she isn't a cartoonishly insane evil person in my version of events) and maybe he would even feel some tentative excitement at the idea of coming clean, now that it seems inevitable. after all, he always intended to tell arthur eventually! and i think gaius would have to admit outright that he does not want merlin to tell arthur he has magic because he, gaius, simply cannot risk such a gamble. it would be so interesting to see gaius and merlin clash and disagree once it becomes obvious that it's not merlin that isn't ready for the reveal, it's gaius. delicious!

with morgana's knowledge looming, things would inevitably spiral into a magic reveal by the end of season 4. i picture this season as an absolute mess of miscommunication between everyone at camelot, which is, y'know, canon. growing increasingly cunning and vengeful, morgana would use this tension to her advantage, destabilizing the court from the outside while she creates alliances with other sorcerers outside of camelot (instead of living alone in a hovel for no reason — morgana le fay i'm sorry i'm so sorry they gave you agravaine instead of your all-female entourage oh my god).

and here's where the events would change beyond recognition (aka here's where the meta becomes the fanfic i refuse to write). picture it with me: a militia of sorcerers infiltrates camelot and arthur and gwen have to set aside their differences (assuming gwen kissing lancelot and arthur overreacting happens, which it should) for the good of the kingdom as well as for love. picture high priestess morgana in her element, side by side with a bunch of misfit sorcerers that aren't so easily vilified, chopping down camelot's soldiers and knights and assuredly making their way to the newly-minted king.

then, just as it starts to seem that all hope is lost, in swoops merlin (the actual merlin, not his old fart disguise) on dragonback (kilgharrah hates morgana so much i know his sexist ass would stoop to anything to stop her)!!! imagine merlin showing off the extent of his powers in front of everyone and preventing the sorcerers from getting any further, declaring loud and clear that camelot is protected by him, by emrys. imagine that display of power alone being enough to send everyone home.

imagine the loyalties clearly drawn: merlin on arthur's side, morgana on the sorcerers'. imagine arthur, feeling confused and betrayed by everyone at this point, banishing merlin despite everything he's done for him in the angstiest, most emotionally dysregulated scene the show had ever put to screen. imagine merlin starting season 5 free at last but very lonesome, an embittered dragonlord like his father. imagine the absolute mess camelot would become without him, even with gwen — now queen guinevere — there to pick up the slack. imagine arthur actually earning merlin back, finally growing into his role as king as he does so. imagine the reunion.

all this and more could've been not just possible but inevitable if morgana was allowed to remain a complex character that is neither inherently good nor inherently evil: it was undeniably the biased and one-note treatment of morgana's downfall by the writers that set the precedent for literally everything else that happened after merlin chose to poison her. the show wouldn't have even had to jeopardize its tone or the monster-of-the-week vibe, all it would've had to do is admit that even the "good guys" are capable of mistakes and what makes them good is the ability to feel remorse and change for the better. (as opposed to uther, who was miles beyond redemption since way before the pilot and deserved to lose everything and die alone. OBVIOUSLY???)

in a world where morgana remains multifaceted and sympathetic, mordred would get a better arc as well, so if we really wanted to, we could still end on the same tragic note that the show ended on. with so much harm inflicted onto so many innocent people by the pendragons for so long (including mordred and the many druids and sorcerers that raised him), it could realistically end up being a little too late for anything more than one shining glimpse of king arthur and the sorcerer merlin's short-lived golden age before fate catches up to them. glimpsing that reality just to immediately lose it would've been far more satisfying and far more tragic than whatever the writers thought they were doing with all that pointless carrot-dangling.

and finally, an ending in line with morgana's new and improved arc. in this version, rather than bleeding out on the forest floor alone, she would channel the morgan le fay we know from the legends: sobered up by the reality of her brother dying, she would use her high priestess status (and perhaps also her pendragon status) to be granted passage over to avalon alongside arthur on the boat — a one-way ride — just to make sure he gets there safely. this is her penance for the harm she has caused, the same way arthur's penance is to die and leave the true ruler of camelot (gwen) behind to achieve everything he was too slow and indecisive to build while he still had time.

merlin's penance, then, would be to stay behind and watch them cross over without him, waiting and waiting and waiting until they come back or until he can finally join them. which is a bit fucking harsh if i'm honest, so i'd at least make it slightly more faithful to the legends by having him return as an old man and letting him take a long nap under a tree by the shore, his body slowly enveloped by vines like the cobwebbed fisher king in 3x08, never fully sure if he's dreaming or if there really are strange shapes fading in and out of the fog over the lake. still tragic, but nevertheless a little more open-ended and whimsical than [TRUCK NOISES] THE END!

[seventeendeer]

hrrr I Saw the TV Glow is still rolling around in the back of my mind. it's hitting me somewhat belatedly that what seemingly starts as mainly an identity story turns out - toward the final act - to also be a love story. two queer kids finding each other (again). the bond they forge (have always had). the feelings that start to grow (were always there) despite the lie they're living. one trying to save the other, and failing. the frail hope at the end that maybe what they had mattered after all, even if they never see each other again. maybe because they knew each other, someday things will be better.

idk. so much of the story feels so lonely. they're awkward with each other at first and they don't really "get" each other and they're absent from each other's lives for long periods and they don't have anyone else. but it's all a lie - they were best friends, they knew each other better than anyone, they are who they are because they knew each other, they were not alone. no matter how bleak the setting is, this fake world can't obscure the truth. they'll never forget each other. it will always have happened, it will always have mattered.

it's so hard to put into words but Owen/Isabel and Maddy/Tara make me so crazy, the way everything in the world works to drive them apart and yet not even losing their memories can destroy the connection between them. and it's not enough to prevent the world from tearing them apart but maybe it's enough to save their lives

queer love portrayed not as supernaturally resilient or invincible (god knows it isn't), but as a precious fragile thing that can and will grow back over and over in some form no matter what ...

[trans-leek-cookie]

the ending of i saw the tv glow fucked me up because in a meatphor sense she's going to spend the rest of her life in misery because she was too afraid to embrace her true self. her happy self. and in a literal sense she's LITERALLY being buried alive which is like top 100 fears of mine and the fact her inhaler stopped working which is like. the sign that she's losing oxygen kept me up at night. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAA

Ourgh yeah the burying alive is. Fucked up if real! But personally I've said before but I do see the ending as not Great but at least hopeful, I think even if she doesn't accept herself right away she's going to at least try to like, find people who can help her, because she is screaming for help at the end, even if no one responds. And that's much better than suffering in silence. At least, that's if you assume her life outside the Pink Opaque is real in some way, which tbh I do. I think even if she were to bury herself like Tara, it wouldn't perfectly put her in Isabel's body, and she wouldn't be young again. Idk I'll say that I think the world of ISTTVG is supernatural and sitting within unreality rather than full fantasy, and neither The Pink Opaque or "Real Life" is fully true. I think they blur together one way or another

[1-up-chump]

Hello, I share your indignation about the new part of MK. Everything was changed too much and strangely. Can you write down the moments you didn't like? For example, I’m not happy with this whole situation with Kuai Liang - Scorpion, Tarkata - a disease, Raiden - Liu Kang 2.0, Fujin - Raiden’s sister, who is Kung Lao’s lover, seriously?

I WILL STATE that i have not bothered to look at everything myself but hear from reliable sources of the basic information of the game so i cannot give a full and fair critique. And i will not give this game anymore attention than i already have given it since it is just NOT a mortal kombat game.

Lets talk about the reasons you listed bc i agree.

Kuai liang as scorpion and in role reversal:

I am not a fan of this even remotely being "canon" Although the idea should be explored by fans WHO UNDERSTAND BOTH KUAI LIANG AND HANZO HASASHI AS CHARACTERS ORIGINALLY. It completely disrespects hanzo as a character and erases his connection to scorpion being a "gimmick thing to slap onto someone" as a title rather than a personal journey of meaning. And kuai deserves more respect as well, originally being an assassin whose clan tried to "modernize" by removing free will of warriors to ensure obedience and make their spirits and talents disposable. Trying to fight against that. It seems ironic in the end his fate is nothing more than to be toyed with by this unoriginal and uninspiring "role swap au lolz"

The tarkatan race being a disease:

I shouldn't even have to clarify how fucked up this is. Right after in mk 11 we saw tarkatans just being another race living in outworld minding their own business, and kotal fucking up (kotal khan is a wasted character but thats for another post) so we got what was once a "bad guy evil race" to something better. AND THEN THEY FUCKED IT UP AGAIN like isnt that, at best, the most tone deaf shit after what happened in real life with a certain disease and people being uber racist??? And dont get me started on how they messed up mileena with that too. (God damn the writers fucking hate her just as much as kung lao)

Raiden role reversal:

Let me tell you as a raiden enjoyer i fucking HATE them making him a basic ass protag like they did with liu kang (i love liu but lately they just removed all personality from him) its so fucking uninspiring and boring as shit AND THEY MAKE HIM CHAMPION INSTEAD OF KUNG LAO???? THE ABSOLUTE DISRESPECT WHAT THE FUCK i love raiden but he doesn't deserve champion title, that belongs to KUNG motherfucking LAO.

Fujin being a sister????:

Listen i havent seen it but this is the dumbest ass shit i have ever seen in my entire life. As if they couldn't show how little they actually care about fujin......

And the shallow fans who care little about fujin other than a "pretty fuck toy to do teh yaois with uwu" which is also what they did to shang tsung now which is like YOU FOOLS! CARY HIROYUKI TAGAWA-SAMA IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE!!! YOU SEXUALIZE HIM WHEN HE'S AN OLD MAN TOO OR YOU'RE A COWARD AND A SHAM!

And then there's the absolute nothing plot that really shows they ran out of ideas and just slap together bullshit. The villains arent really villains and they suck, its just "stop evil shang tsung but hes not actually evil bc theres this other timeline-" ITS FUCKING LAZY AND PATHETIC WRITING it shows that they want to have it all just to appease fans to take their money. Thats it, thats all this story boils down to. A shoddy scam to bullshit a story to take people's money. I mean you cant even get shang tsung or marjory of fan desired characters without dlc and the base game is like 60-70 bucks like the fuck????

As a regular fighting game? Mid but enjoyable i guess. But as a mortal kombat game? No, thats not even mortal kombat thats just some dumbasses wattpad fanfic after they watched avengers endgame in their crusty batman shirt

I'll end this with a small side note: if my opinions offend, I'm sorry im passionate about a series that was a part of my childhood and made me appreciate Japanese and Chinese culture and kung fu cinema in general. Im sorry if the memories of playing a fun game and caring about the characters having strong bonds of friendship in a violent world designed to be a "kill or be killed" system and despite that choosing to do the right thing in their mind.

Sorry if i seem to be playing a different game bc i am.

Its mortal kombat: shaolin monks for the ps2

-gets head ripped off-

[joelletwo]

Hfhdhfv group field trip to risa worf is a monogamy guy among coworkers and partner who VERY much. Textually. Onscreenedly. Are NOT. Wild we could get this but not o'brienskira

[steveyockey]

To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.

This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.

Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).

And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.

See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.

In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.

Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.

Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic idea: Ecto-Specialist

Danny Fenton gets sent by his parents as a Fenton Ecto-Specialist at the request of the Justice League. They would have gone themselves, but unfortunately, every other Fenton had come down with the flu.

Danny was happy about his ghost immune system because this meant he could present Ghosts in a much more favorable light. He left behind all his parents' weapon blueprints and research reports.

He switched them out with his PowerPoint, ghost notes, and interviews he managed to obtain from the friendlier spiris. He arrived to the Hall of Justice, was given a special access pass and was told to set up in a board room.

He nervously plugged everything in, smooth down his suit, and practiced his speech. He's given presentations before, but they have always been school assignments. It was still nerve-wracking, but at least everyone else had to give the exact same topic for the same five to six minutes requirement.

Here, he was going to speak before some of the best heroes of the world to convince them that ghosts were sentiment. To prove they should have rights.

No pressure.

"Hello, I'm Danny Fenton. I'm going to speak about Ecto-beings and their vast culture within the Infinite Realms, " He says to the empty chairs. He pauses for a moment before, as if though he was gathering the attention of a audience before pressing the clicker abd watching his slide move.

"What are Ecto-beings?" He makes a gesture, that he once saw Tim Drake do on TV. It was a smooth wrist roll that he thought look sophisticated. "They can come in all shapes and sizes. Some are naturally formed from their environment, others are born to Ecto-beings and a few or deceased spirits. But they all share a core build from ectoplasm. That's what classifieds them as-"

"Maybe start but explaining what ectoplasm is" a voice cuts him off. Danny is not proud of the high pitch scream that releases from his throat. He is even less proud that he jumps so badly, he ends up tripping over his feet and falling over.

Bell-like laughter, fills the air, and Danny swings his head to the doorway only to further choke on his spit. Standing there looking like a Greek god is Tim Drake.

The very person he was attempting to imitate.

"Are you the Fenton Works representative?" Drake asks, strutting in with a wink. "I'm here on Wayne Enterprises behalf. We may be doing a joint charity effort for Ecto-beings rights. I'm Timothy Drake. And you?"

"I ugh, I'm Danny. Ugh- Danny Fenton. My parents own Fenton Works." He scrambles to his feet, flushing dark red when Drake smiles. "I'm presenting today. I was um practicing?"

"You're doing great" Drake assures. "Just remember to not stand in front of the screen. You want people to ready your bullet points."

"Oh." Danny drags his podium over. He cringes when he realizes that causes it yo scrap against the floor, leaving two long lines.

Drake's grin widens. "It has wheels. You just press the little lever on the right"

Danny wants to die "right. Sorry"

"Nothing a wax machine can't fix." Drake tilts his head, studying his face before asking,"Want to get a quick coffee to calm your nerves? They sell a great brand in the cafeteria"

Danny rubs his hands "Coffee makes me more nervous but thank you"

Drake's smile flatters before it switches back. "Icecream then?"

"No thank you. I run cold naturally and ice cream makes it worse"

".....how about afterwards? We could go watch a moive? Dinner?"

"I would, but I'm supposed to stay in the hotel my parents rented for me. They'll know if I'm not."

The other teen nods and looks a bit disappointed. "Alright, you can't blame a guy for trying . Well, good luck with your practice. I'll be back in an hour for the presentation."

Dannybwaves goodbye, trying to slow his fluttering heart rate. He just spoke to Tim Drake! He can't wait to text Sam and Tucker.

It's only after re-running the presentation once, about thirty minutes later, that Danny jolts in place "HE WAS ASKING ME OUT?!"

"Who was?"

For the second time that day, Danny released a high pitch scream. It's much worse to find Wonder Woman fighting a amused smile standing in the doorway instead of a Teenage Hearttob.

He hasn't even started. Maybe he should have fake being sick, too.

[quarterlifekitty]

Still brain rotting over Soap being into Simon’s non-verbal gf.

cw: exhibitionism/vouyerism

Things really quietly escalate during movie nights. You’re usually in Simon’s lap, under a blanket. And Simon starts touching you. Johnny notices, his eyes keep flicking to Simon’s arm over your front and wrist leading down beneath the quilt. The first couple of times this happens, he’s able to tear his eyes away and keep his eyes on the tv, and doesn’t mention a thing.

Until he can’t keep it going anymore. You’re watching some shitty sword-and-sorcery movie. A barbarian and a royal knight who have to put aside their differences and join forces to save the princess and the rest of the realm. He doesn’t give a fuck— he was really only keeping his eyes on the screen hoping the princess’s pretty tits would distract him. They don’t.

This time he’s fully staring. The gentle rock of Simon’s wrist. If Soap focuses, he can hear the sound of his fingers in your wet little cunt. You keep your eyes on the movie, while Simon lets his head loll and faces Johnny, lazy smirk creeping into his face.

“She know I can see what yer doin’ to ‘er, LT? Fuck, I can hear it— smell it, even. She ok with that?”

“Was her idea to start with, Johnny.” Soap sucks in a breath and starts palming himself— rock hard in his pants.

“That true, hen? You wanted me to see you gettin’ fucked on Si’s fingers?”

You look to him and nod.

“You mind if I take my cock out, then? A little cruel to show me my best mate knuckle deep in a beautiful girl and expect me t’resist.” You lean back and whisper into Ghost’s ear a bit.

“Says she wants t’see it, sergeant. Wants you to stroke yourself off for us.” The jingling of a belt buckle is immediate and it’s timed perfectly— the barbarian breaking through his chains on screen, able to catch the princess from a fall in the nick of time. Johnny bites his lip hard as he spits and wraps a fist around his cock.

“Fuck— mark m’words, baby, once I hear you say you want me, it’s over for you, bonnie.”

[radiance1]

If you asked Danny how he found himself in this situation, he wouldn't be able to give you a short answer. For you see, Danny was a Prince, heir to the throne that will never be his (and thank the Ancients for that) and an ageless being who will stay around for eons to come.

He out-lived his family, friends, entire town. Except for Vlad, that man wouldn't die so easily to something like old age, much less when his empire still stands.

Regardless.

Danny has been summoned only a handful of times, all of which were either mistakes or some mortals who wanted to summon something for shits and giggles.

He liked the last ones, they usually have pretty good food.

However, the last summon he's answered, a mistake, was done by a handful of wizards who weren't exactly happy with the results they got, so he made fun of them severely for their mistake and then their master- who was apparently watching in case things went wrong- turned him into a cat after he could a bit too... excited.

So, how did it escalate from there?

It was a simple thing, really, he encountered a few injured cats, and then nursed them back to health. Then those cats kept coming back to him, again, and again, and again, the first few times with injuries, but later they came just to be around him and chat sometime.

Then they started bringing other cats around him, skittish ones they were, not exactly keen on letting him take care of him the first few times, but just like the ones before, they soon came around to consider him as a friend of sorts.

Then that repeated, and repeated, and repeated.

Then suddenly, he found that he had acquired a family of sorts, one made of feral cats that were as chaotic as his own, previous, family was and more. It was... nice, when he realized that, that he had a place, a foothold, in the mortal world and not just as Prince of the Infinite Realms.

Although, the amount of grandpa jokes when he revealed his age- 150 is still young, he'll have you know- was something that took getting used to. But it was nice to know they were comfortable enough to call him that.

There were some special cases among his little Familia. A few of them had what this world called meta-abilities, ranging from such like superstrength, enhanced durability, super speed to things like telekinesis, teleportation, flight, etc, etc.

One of them even had the ability to separate their body parts.

He kept an eye on those that had these abilities, no doubt that multiple people would try and kidnap them for nefarious purposes. Though they were incredibly small in number, caution is best to be kept, especially in a city as dangerous as that of Gotham.

He's never really made himself known to anyone other than his little Familia and a certain cat-themed criminal. He preferred to stay in his little warehouse, watching the days pass while taking care of a few kittens here and there, sleeping, eating, managing to use that Tv and computer he stole that one time to watch whatever thing is one.

It was a very calm life, all things considered.

Of course, then came a disturbance in said life, when the apparent rival Familia's wanted to meet him for one reason or another. Helpfully supplied by the first to have join his Familia, a cat with an immortality ability that he named Kevin.

Of course, he never knew Kevin had was immortal, but seeing him die one too many times and watching him get back up was prime evidence that he had one.

Apparently, his Familia was regarded as a relatively new one in the city of crime, and the other cats that were considered 'Heads' wanted to meet him for quite some time, especially when is got as big as it did and Kevin, glorious, glorious Kevin, has been going in his place to said meetings, and this district of Gotham they occupied was considered their territory.

Danny was blissfully unaware of this until today. But he decided that Kevin, sweet, hardworking, death-defying young Kevin, can continue engaging in cat politics, he wants no part in such things and Kevin has proven himself capable of handling it!

As much as he didn't want a part in this, he was persuaded to go at least once and can then leave everything up to Kevin. So he goes there, does things, talk to other 'Heads', being very vocal in his body language about how he couldn't really care less about being there.

Of course, he had to care when he sees Batman being thrown through a nearby wall and seeing as how he's heard about him from a friend (Catwoman has made it very clear how she felt about him on numerous occasions whenever they met.), he wasn't exactly keen on seeing him being smushed into a paste, so he went ghost, pure black fur being replaced by glowing white.

And then slammed right into a battle with Bane.

Kevin he swears to the Ancients if you for some reason try to get into this fight and die again, he will treat you like a kitten for the next three weeks.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Blood Flow

Kinktober Prompt: Choking

Relationship: dbf!Joel Miller x Reader

Content: [i was going for something sensual and i failed.] Explicit sexual scenes, fingering, choking, squirting, praise kink, Joel’s kinda rough, teasing. No outbreak AU.

Summary: You curiously tread into the realm of choking, but you have no clue why people think it feels ‘good’. With Joel’s help, you realize that there’s simply a right way to do it.

A/N: pay attention to the last line. it implies exactly what you think it does. **ALSO! part 3 for this is out, it’s called Daddy’s Girl!

this scene is so weird, why is he choking her???

Your fingers flitted across your phone screen, texting as you watch a new show. In this scene, the two main characters finally broke their tension, and things were growing heavy. You watched the actor’s hand wrap around his costar’s throat, watching how her face contorted in bliss.

Cause it feels good, sweetheart, Joel replied.

Bringing your own hand to your neck, you pressed against your windpipe and choked, like really choked, but it didn’t feel like you thought it would. And your face definitely did not make those same expressions as the woman in the show.

Clearing your throat, you replied to Joel. A few years ago, this kind of conversation would earn you an intervention with your parents. This was your dad’s best friend, and you shouldn’t be texting him about being choked, of all things.

But fuck, was texting Joel a wonderful time.

A single message could have you squeezing your thighs together. Every baby girl, sweetheart, and honey was imagined in his voice as if he were there, whispering them into your ear. You would imagine his fingers dancing across your skin as he showered you with those sweet pet names.

tried it on myself, and i can confirm that it feels awful. coughing my lungs out right now

Joel read your text and let out a hearty chuckle, quickly replying back. He knew you were a tad… inexperienced with things like this, and that you wouldn’t ask just anyone about this. He had you wrapped around his finger, as you did him.

Baby doll, you’re probably pressing on your windpipe. It’s a little tricky to do it on yourself

You groaned at the text, still frustrated at your little mishap. The reply you gave him was rather bold, but you anxiously sent it anyway.

maybe you could show me

The two of you had flirted a lot more since you came back home from college. Four years of hard schoolwork had you taking a break back home with your parents to choose your next big step in life. At first it started small - little compliments on your clothes, on your intelligence, on how much you’d come into your own. Your glances at Joel lasted too long to be friendly, and it didn’t help when you ran your foot along his leg under the table at big family dinners.

In short, you were driving each other absolutely wild, pulling the tension taught between you, waiting for it to snap.

But Joel wanted to go slow. This was dangerous territory, and he needed to take his time.

Maybe I could

You stared blankly at the phone screen, reading over the message with a fluttering heart behind your ribs. A wave of warmth spread over you with a beeline between your thighs. You clenched your legs together as you texted Joel back.

right now?

J: Door’s unlocked, I’m just watching TV. If you want to join me we can watch that show you were telling me about

Like an alarm went off you shot out of bed, hurrying to your dresser and closet to find a more impressive outfit. Joel wouldn’t care all that much - he liked seeing you in anything. It didn’t matter how much or little you had on, you were always beautiful to him.

headed out now!

Joel have a swift reply that buzzed in your pocket.

Someone’s eager.

You trekked over to the neighborhood next to yours, practically skipping with each step up to Joel’s house. Thankfully, his daughter, Sarah, would be at a friend’s house this evening, leaving you and Joel all to yourselves.

Joel’s head perked up when he heard you knock. He, almost too excitedly, shot up from the couch and headed to the front door.

He was an effortlessly handsome man. And now, in a simple pair of sweatpants and v-neck shirt, he looked more stunning than ever. For you, it also didn’t matter what he wore - he always looked handsome.

“Hi,” you said, offering him a small smile.

Joel raised an arm and leaned against the doorframe. His lean muscles shifted under his tan skin, hardened by those years under the Texas sun, and caught the light from inside to accentuate his bicep. He caught you ogling, and laughed.

“Sweetheart, I’m not just eye candy,” Joel’s voice was soft after the long day he had, “You comin’ in, or what?”

Your smile widened as you stepped in, dipping under Joel’s arm to step in the living room. He had already closed the blinds preemptively to shield yourselves from any prying eyes. You sat on the couch and waited for Joel to join you.

He slowly made his way over, “So, what show were you watchin’?”

You sighed dramatically, “Well, now it’s just embarrassing. We can watch something else, instead.”

Joel shook his head at your offer, gesturing to the TV, “Not embarrassing at all. ‘Sides, I got a plan for it.”

He snatched the remote from the arm of the couch and chose a spot right next to you. After a series of questions, you began to play the show you’d seen, found the right episode, and played the scene in question.

Joel remained silent the entire time, glancing between you and the TV. His stare bore into you, but it was unclear as to what was going through his mind.

But the scene, to your relief, ended, and the shyness you’d felt could be over. Joel paused the show in the middle of the next scene and finally met your eyes.

“Alright, I think I know where ya went wrong,” he commented. You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“It’s all about controlling the blood flow, not pressin’ on the windpipe. That’s a one way ticket to the man upstairs,” Joel laughed and brought his hand to your cheek, cupping your face carefully. His thumb passed over your cheekbone before he shifted down toward your neck.

He placed his thumb and index finger on either side of your throat, right under your jaw. The pressure was uncomfortable at first, pressing into you in a way that sparked some faint nausea. You cleared your throat and swallowed to dull the feeling.

“Pressin’ here,” his grip tightened, “reduces the blood flow. It’s still a lil’ hard to breathe, but it doesn’t risk your safety.”

A lightness began to creep through you as Joel pressed into your throat. Blackness clouded the edge of your vision, blurring Joel’s features, though you could barely make out a lazy smile.

After a few long seconds, he let go, and you could freely breathe once again. The rush of blood back to your brain throbbed at your temples, though the brief headache was nothing compared to the rush of pleasure it delivered.

To your surprise, the rush went straight to your core, leaving you shifting your legs together.

Joel leaned forward and planted a kiss on your cheek, his voice was a low whisper.

“See? Feels good when someone does it right, don’t it?”

You nodded, still held securely by his hand around your throat. His lips traveled across your face, to your temples, to your jaw, and finally finding your own, flush and fluid with your own movements. Joel tightened his grip again, and the same rush came flowing through. It was tricky to keep kissing Joel at the pace he set. Instead, your mouth slacked open as a moan escaped you, swallowed eagerly by Joel.

He spoke slowly against your lips, nipping at them between his words.

“How is it, baby doll? Still feel good?”

It was wonderful. Had you not messaged him about this, you would’ve been completely in the dark about this whole new world of pleasure. So wonderful, in fact, that you could feel a new slickness in your sex, about to soak into your panties. Instinctively you ground your hips, pathetically pressing your aching pussy into nothing substantial.

Joel moved his other hand lower, raking over your shifting thighs, “Tell me, sweet girl, does it make you feel good down here?”

His hand cupped your clothed sex, pressing against your slit and slowly massaging your core. Your breath trembled as you gave him another nod - a small sign of permission to take things further.

“Joel… Joel,” you whispered, fighting against his grip on your throat. Amidst the rush going through your head you could barely hold onto what he was saying, let alone reply coherently.

His lips had wandered to your jaw, peppering a trail of kisses around his rough fingers, “What is it, baby girl? Tell me whatcha need.”

You choked out your reply, “In.. inside.”

A low laugh danced across your skin, “That’s my girl. Always needing something fillin’ her up. ‘Least when I’m involved, anyway.”

He pressed harder against your aching sex - the abrasion of the fabric turned you into a whimpering mess in a matter of seconds. You needed more. You needed him.

Joel groaned against your skin when you tugged his hand past the waistband of your pants, pushing him lower toward your core.

“Need me to make you feel good, sweet girl?” his voice thrummed through your chest. You nodded, urging your lungs to take in sweet, fresh air amidst the constriction. Joel loosened his grip ever so slightly, letting you catch your breath.

He hummed against your jaw as he adjusted his hand with his fingers teasingly at your entrance. A single finger played with your wet hole, swirling around carefully, not fully giving you what you need. Not yet.

You mewled a slurred version of his name, eyes rolling back when his grip tightened around your throat.

Joel’s fingers didn’t stop, but rather pushed further, sinking past your soaked folds and into your tight pussy. A small whimper from you made him smile, carefully eyeing you as he moved his fingers, curling them up to brush your sweet spot.

“Joel… fu-fuck,” you choked.

His fingers plunged deeper into your warm cunt, curling harshly to draw a long-awaited moan. Until now, Joel hadn’t had the joy of hearing you utter anything above a whisper.

You cried out, straining against his grip, but was sent back to fighting for that sacred blood flow back to your brain.

You brought your hand up to meet the one at your neck, tapping against the back of his hand. A beat passed before Joel realized the mistake. He swiftly released you and cradled your head, slowing his movements between your thighs.

“Sorry,” you rasped, “that was just a little too hard. I couldn’t really make any noise without coughing.”

Joel leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. He broke away with the softest tone you’d heard all night.

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for, honey,” he replied, spreading his kisses to your cheeks. “Got a little too ahead of myself there.”

He kissed you until you were left breathless and panting. By now your lips were plump from the bites and nips Joel had given them.

“Maybe we could try a different position, whaddya say?”

After a beat of thought, you nod in agreement and follow his lead. He removed his hand from your pants, lightly sucking at his soaked fingers, and moaning at your taste across his tongue.

This was the closest he’d been to truly tasting you. Words escaped him as he tried to describe the feeling of heaven on his very lips.

You stood from the couch and watched Joel taste yourself on his fingers. He was completely entranced, and monitoring your every movement as you waited for his direction.

Darkness filled his eyes, “Y’might need to take those pants off, sweetheart. Need a good angle for this.”

Now right in front of his legs, you urged Joel to spread them apart and stood between them.

He took this as a silent request for his help. Joel gave you a smile and sat forward, letting his hands climb up your thighs, taking their sweet time to cover as much of them as he could.

Joel hooked his fingers on your waistband and gently tugged, unwrapping you like it was Christmas morning.

Your bottoms dropped to your ankles, and all was left was your soaked panties, the last barrier between Joel and what he’d wanted to see most. Joel leaned further, leaving a trail of kisses from your mid-thigh to your hip, alternating to the other side. Each touch of his lips set you ablaze. His gentle touches paled in comparison to the heat roiling through your belly, trickling right down to your aching pussy.

At long last he peeled your panties off of you, slowly sending them down your legs until they joined your pants. Your lower half was bare for him now; you were a gift unwrapped, the best present he could’ve asked for.

“Christ,” Joel muttered. His eyes scanned over your half naked form, giving you a curious look at your chest.

He wanted nothing more than to wander up there, letting his hands dip below the fabric and slide up to your chest. Your tits were selfishly hidden from him, with your perfect, perk nipples poking through, enticing him to search for more.

You wrapped your legs on either side of him, pushing Joel back against the couch so you could get into position. His legs stayed spread open, thus making you open yours across his.

Spread perfectly wide for whatever he had planned for you.

Joel cupped the back of your neck and pulled you in for another kiss, working his hands over your thighs in the process. You could feel a couple of damp fingertips from where he’d fingered you before. Those same fingers now crept toward your needy hole, teasing you ever so slowly.

You bucked your hips and positioned them over his hand, whining at the lack of touch.

“Joel, please,” you mumbled, keeping your lips in tandem with his own. Joel grumbled out a reply you couldn’t discern before a hand made its way to your throat.

Joel pressed down on either side of your windpipe to deliver that sweet head rush of elation.

“I’ve got you, baby girl, I’ll take care of you.”

And that, he did. His hands moved with pure greed at your neck and pussy, sending two fingers up into your tight cunt. You cried out against his lips as he slowly pumped into you.

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let it all out.”

You were relieved you could make at least a little noise. It was better than it was at home, where you’d spent countless nights touching yourself, moaning against your hand or a nearby pillow.

But here… here you could cry out as Joel touched you. You could freely show him how good he was making you feel.

You let out a soft whine, but it was not well-received by Joel.

“I wanna hear you, baby.”

A louder moan drew from your throat. Joel’s fingers curled inside of you, pressing into the spongy part right past your entrance. Your walls fluttered gently around his fingers, pulling him in further.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” said Joel, still mumbling against your lips. You offered him a smile, proud that your body was to his liking. It was all you’d hoped for, to be perfect for him.

“Not sure how this little pussy’s gonna handle me, though,” he continued in a cocky voice. “But I think you could do it.”

He curled his fingers harshly, causing you to slur your words together. Something about Joel, and harder, and please.

“Such a good girl. Bet you’d take anything I gave you, huh?”

You nodded slightly, constricted under his grip to move any further.

Joel pushed his fingers deeper, picking up his pace until the wet sounds of your ravaged cunt filled the room. Your juices flowed from your pussy and onto his hand, leaking down from his fingers to his palm, pooling your sweet slick before it trickled to the floor below.

His pace became relentless, though the grip on your throat loosened. You let out a shuddering moan as he furiously pumped his fingers, making your cunt squelch with the most obscene sounds you’d ever heard.

“Attagirl,” Joel praised, “Just keep still. I gotcha.”

The reassuring tone kept you conflicted - it totally contrasted from what he was doing to your body.

Fuck, if this is how it was with just his hands alone, you silently prayed that you could handle what else he could give you.

There was a new tightness in your abdomen, pooling around in your sex, but it was a deeper sort of pressure you’d never felt. It felt like…

“Joel,” you protested, “I think I gotta pee.”

He laughed against your lips, “Just work with me here, darlin’.”

You squirmed on his hand as this new sensation spread through your pussy. This kind of pressure wasn’t something you could’ve gotten from your own hand, let alone any toy.

No, this was the masterful work of Joel Miller’s fingers, unraveling you around him.

He struck deeper, twisting his wrist to get a better angle, curling each thick digit against your sweet spot. You choked on a gasp as the pressure in your abdomen built, threatening to break apart.

With a flurry of swift motion the tension broke, and a beautiful symphony sounded - the rush of your juices that poured onto his hand, the strangled moan that fell from your slacked mouth, followed by the pleased groan Joel drew out.

“What… hah… was that..?” you panted. Joel kissed your cheekbone as he worked you through your high.

“Did I just… did I sq-“ you could barely make out the word.

“You did. And you did such a good job, sweet girl.”

The praise roiled through your gut. A soreness flooded through your sex, trailing toward your cervix. You swallowed nervously at the thought of anything bigger, and what it could do to your insides.

Joel slowed his pace and released the hand that had been trained to your neck. You both worked through your climax, coming down smoothly to where you now laid slumped against Joel’s chest.

His hands still roved over your skin, gently kneading your ass and thighs as you caught your breath.

“How you feelin’, honey?” his Southern drawl intoxicated his words with a sickly sweetness.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck a let out a small, content mmm, taking in his scent. The mix of his cologne and sweat sent something possessive through you, to have this all for yourself. It felt too selfish for that pining to be one-sided - for you to want him as much as you did, without knowing if he held the same ferocity about you as you did him.

“Thirsty.”

“I bet. That’ll take a lot outta ya - let’s get a glass of water and getcha cleaned up.”

You worked your legs off of his thighs and stood shakily. After sitting in that awkward position and having your senses scrambled, your knees buckled beneath your weight, desperately trying to hold your quivering thighs steady.

“Hold on, sweetheart, I’ve gotcha,” Joel said, swiftly standing on steady feet. You pouted at the unfairness - his hands tore at your sex and left you trembling while he was perfectly fine.

“You better not laugh at me,” you snapped, though the drained tone in your words had Joel chucking slightly.

He held you steady with both hands and led you toward the kitchen, “You look like you got a hip replacement.”

“You’re nearing that age, aren’t you?” you quipped. Joel gave you a firm smack on your ass as his reply.

“Better watch it, I don’t do well with brats.”

hi y’all! thank you so much for reading and supporting, and happy Kinktober!

If you’re looking for the part 3 of this, it’s called Daddy’s Girl! I would love if you gave it a read

ily xoxo

[crows-in-the-house]

Bill Cipher x Reader possesion hc's

tw: harm to reader, violence and blood?

i think he would posses you in your sleep, making sure you are deep in nightmare realm, getting in only when he's sure you won't wake up :

he will start his fun with drawing eyes on your eyelids and your forehead, maybe whole body if he's in the mood,

and the best part? It's going to be with a the pernament marker sucker!

if he gets bored he might start drawing triangles or riddles, sometimes just in places you won't see, like "Bill's property" on your nape (ha! you still have that you fool!)

oooh, and maybe he will tattoo that if you've been ignoring him lately

just so you know haha

will try to see if he can bite of ur fingers

will eat spiders (his fav human must be well feed)

will bath you in nailpolish so you're "well preserved"

will prank call random people hoping he finds any of the Pines numbers (so you two can go on a murder date!!)

will make a fashion show!

but don't hope it will turn out well, he will cut out "clothes" out of your curtains, make a shawl out of toilet paper and use a grater as a bracelet. Later you may just find yourself half naked cuz he bearly knew how to put back normal clothes on you (he will defend himself saying that real clothes are boring and out of style)

on the other hand he will also put on lots of jewelry and accesories - so you may also wake up with three hats, old winter glove, two bowties (which you didn't own earlier?) and 6 rings on your toes. enjoy!

sometimes Bill will just watch tv. Maybe he will comment on "my little ponny" or other shows, what else can he do? He has to talk to somebody, you know, while waiting for his lazy human. The next day you can feel ur throat burning and eyes itching

"what about building a portal?" - you would ask. Well no, he obviously does that. It's just that it's not so enjoyable when you don't have anyone to boss around! So he gets bored quickly and nags you about it later. Or send you more nightmares about it, cuz how dare you be so sloppy with your work!?

he will also draw himslef on all your mirrors so you can look at him every time u try to look at ur relfection (if you try to clean that off, he will just scratch it with something sharp the next day, so better be cearful, theres going to be lots of glass shards everywhere)

prolly will just throw brokade everywhere cuz its pretty

if he's feeling lonely or desperate he will start rewiring your brain, maybe adding a few fake memories where he's your hero, or putting himself in a place of somebody that helped you in hard sytuation. Remember that one time you got sick and somebody was next to your bed 24/7? Yeah it was Bill, do thank him.

will read all your thoughts about him

will drink a soup made of energy drinks and candy

will write his name on ur brain. or heart. or lungs, maybe just everywhere, why not?

will act like you in front of the mirror and compliment himself!

will try making a piercing. if he fails with your ears he will just practice on your tights! And neck!

will haunt down your friends, you better tell them you were just playing tag with them. Yes, with a knife, who doesn't?

will try to lick your eyeball

and elbow

also will hurt your body in weird ways but that obvious

(buuuut maybe, just maybe, he will make you not feel all the pain the next day. If he likes you that enough, that is)

[felassan]

New Dragon Age: The Veilguard Journal entry:

"Journal #9 Hans Zimmer & Lorne Balfe Co-Composers Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Composers Announcement"

"Hey everyone! Today, we’re so happy to announce that two-time Oscar-winner Hans Zimmer and Grammy-winner Lorne Balfe have co-composed the Official Soundtrack (OST) for Dragon Age: The Veilguard, the new single-player fantasy RPG experience coming to PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC via Steam, EA App, and Epic Games Store on October 31, 2024. The legendary composers have collaborated on dozens of projects throughout their careers and have worked closely with the development team at BioWare to create a score celebrating the world of Thedas and its heroes. Fans will be able to pre-order the Official Soundtrack album beginning October 18th on iTunes and Amazon Music, with the formal release to follow on November 1st via Lakeshore Records. Moreover, in celebration of the announcement, Dragon Age: The Veilguard Main Theme, has been released as the first single from the official soundtrack, and can be downloaded and streamed now on all major music services such as Spotify, iTunes, and more. “One of our goals with the music for Dragon Age: The Veilguard was to provide a strong anchor between the world of Thedas and the diverse characters that inhabit that world,” said Cody Behiel, Audio Director for Dragon Age: The Veilguard. “We wanted to ensure that throughout the game's story, whether at its most epic or its most intimate, players were able to feel their actions connect to the personal relationships they have been fostering. Working with Hans and Lorne took these ideas to greater emotional heights than we thought possible and I am so excited for players to experience it.” Oscar-winner Zimmer, one of the world’s most renowned composers, has won numerous awards and honors for his scores in such films as Dune, Dunkirk, Interstellar, Inception, and many more. With over 100 film scores to his credit, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is the first video game soundtrack composed by Zimmer in nearly 10 years. Speaking about his work on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, Hans Zimmer said, “Epic stories lend themselves to epic scores, and the narrative tapestry BioWare has woven in The Veilguard never left me wanting for inspiration, be it during the game’s moments of shining heroism or darkest emotional pitfalls. I’m proud to have shared the journey of creating the musical backdrop for the latest Dragon Age adventure with Lorne and the entire design team.” GRAMMY Award-winner Balfe has over 170 composer credits across movies, TV and games, including Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, Assassin's Creed III, Assassin's Creed: Revelations, and Beyond: Two Souls, all of which received nominations for Best Original Music from the BAFTA Games Awards. “The world of Dragon Age is an unprecedented immersive experience, and never more so than in Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” said Lorne Balfe. “Crafting this score alongside Hans Zimmer has allowed us to bring an epic new majesty to the realm of Thedas, bringing these characters and their stories to the next level. I cannot wait for people to play this game.” Players can pre-order Dragon Age: The Veilguard now on PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X|S and PC. We still have a few more things to talk about before release, and we hope you enjoy our main theme in the meantime!             — The Dragon Age Team"

[source]

(emphasis mine)

[doe-core]

INFODUMPING ABOUT JOHN DOE<3

Regular guys are fully grown and were never children

His species is a regular guy (hair ball)

He likes burgers

He doesn’t like sweet things, but would eat anything you made him

He prefers bitter stuff

His favorite snack is teeth

His likes include you, teeth, eyes, baby rats, television, and static

His dislikes are under stimulation, being alone, “That Guy”, You ignoring him, and baths

He is afraid of water (reason being that regular guys have to swim through large bodies of water in order to escape the motherball which causes a fear of water in a lot of regular guys)

Doe nearly drowned in the river when escaping the motherball, which is why he’s afraid of water

Regular guys don’t need to take baths. If their fake body needs to be cleaned, they will simply eat it and reform it again!!

His fake body will melt if it touches water, but his actual body (hair ball) won’t die, it will just be very painful and traumatic

He feels through his hair which means that he doesn’t like combing his hair, tieing it up, and cutting his hair is the equivalent to cutting off limb

He has many teeth

He has the power to manipulate reality and get “You” to say and do anything he wants, as shown in ending 4 “Yes”

He is gender-fluid, bisexual and goes by any pronouns. “His gender is just as mysterious as he is!!”

He has no organs or bones, but he can create them if you wish!

He eats materials to make up his fake body. Harder materials lead to a harder form, as softer materials make his body softer. His form also can freeze in extreme cold and melt in extreme heat

He is around 20-40 years old (Regular guys are already grown when made)

Regular guys produce asexually

They are classified as pests due to how fast they spread

Doe’s IQ is slightly higher than the average in uncanny valley, but slightly lower in the human realm

Doe’s scars are not due to him being “sad”, they are a kink/reminder

The reason he can feel is because strands of hair are spread throughout his body

His hairball form is 2 ft tall

Cartoon physics apply to him and he is described to move like a claymation figure

His voice claim is Weird Al and Fox (the creator) stated that “his voice sounds like when someone is talking to you in a dream and you forget how it sounded”

He states that creating 2 eyes is difficult and it can cause him to have blurred vision, but “he will do it if you think it will make him perfect”

Even though he is a sexually active adult, that is not his main goal. He strives for genuine connections and affection

His shirt changes based on how he’s feeling and it can say words or have pictures!

He doesn’t have pain receptors, so he didnt know that stabbing you in ending 2 would hurt you

He slightly pefers taller and bigger partners because it makes him feel protected, but he will love you no matter what!! He will love you no matter what body type you are!!

He leaves you a gift no matter the ending (ex. even when doe loses interest in ending 3, he still leaves you a parting gift)

He is a sadistic masochist

His interest increases when you choose to not take a shower (he prefers your natural scent)

He also likes to scare you because “you’re cute when you’re scared” :3

If you were to kiss him, he would be very happy and his reality will reflect that!!

Everything about you is appealing to him. EVERYTHING. When he is in love, it is HARD to make him fall out of love, but if you are firm enough with him, he will eventually take the hint.

Doe is a hoarder and is hinted to be very messy. If you had baked him something, (ex. cake, cookies, etc.) he would ether eat it, or keep it in his endless pile of shit <3

Speaking of which, he will most likely lose you in his house :p

He’s not rlly good with comforting people with depression, but he will try his best!! He will give you all the reassurance you need by giving you “gifts”,(i use that word very lightly) affection, and watching tv with you!!

He repeats words to emphasize how he’s feeling!! (ex. “I just love love love you!!”)

He loves the feeling of static from when you lick vintage television (whatever the fuck that means 😭)

Though, he doesn’t need to blink and only blinks when he wants to, when he does blink, it sounds like something else. (ex. car crash, glass breaking, screaming, metal clanking together, etc.)

His birthday is November 35th!! (people celebrate it on the 5th of december!)

He behaves like he’s in a cartoon and can be a little slow… (in a loveable way ofc)

He’s allergic to pollen and certain types of flowers </3

He’s also more prone to abdominal pain and nausea;(

Even though he is odd, he is NOT the creepiest creature in the valley

If doe were an animal, he would be a Bullet Dog or a Bark Cat <3

If you were to die, he wouldn’t notice it right away *_*

Doe likes the classic series!!

If you try to comb his hair, his hair WILL absorb it

He watches you sleep :3

He has no ears ^.^

He can drink anything as thick or thicker than oil or blood!

His favorite colors are bright red and burnt orange

He LOVES insects!!

He has no blood and he is naturally hard as clay

Speaking of clay, he doesn’t smell bad or good, he smells like clay or wet rain.

He feeds birds when he’s lonely in the valley 🥲💕

He can’t cry, but he can melt and whine as if he were crying

He is a demonic entity (good luck, buddy!)

Because regular guys reproduce asexually, he can create a mini doe!!

He has no friends or family (besides you ofc <3)

He’s goth but he doesn’t know it >_<

He is 5’8 :3

He weighs 50 kilograms!! (110lbs)

His skin is uncomfortably warm to the touch

If you ever tried to stab him, the knife would get sucked into him and would reappear in his hand.

He does not taste good! His fake body has no nutritional value and in fact REMOVES nutrition from yours!!

It’s hard for him to close his mouth lol

You meet him in House Hunted 2, then see him in HH 1, then finally in the John Doe game!

Idk if I said this, but his nails are naturally black and his teeth are naturally yellow <3

He doesn’t know how to wear his jacket properly

Idk if this is true, but his scars may represent how many times he’s tried to get with you-

If he got piercings, they would melt into his body within 20 minutes 😭

He can express sadness, but not in the way others can

His voice would probably be really deep in the middle of the game

When it’s his birthday, streamers and balloons randomly appear in his house and he celebrates it with his meat effigy of You!

Although he’s not the most dangerous thing in uncanny valley, he’s very hard to kill.

Things he finds cute: Everything “You” does, when “You” is scared, baby rats before they grow hair, heartbeats, and eye contact <3

His favorite candy would be hard candy (or glass 😭)

His hair is slick and uncomfortably warm

Saying “I love you” is his way of flirting

He’s not mentally ill, it’s just the way he acts

He will talk to you about his favorite shows

If he gets to eat you, he sees it as a bonus <3

If you were upset, he would stare at you, call you cute, and wrap his hair around you

He would never hurt you out of strong negative emotions 🥩🖤

He has many rows of teeth that are just collected teeth to try to mimic a human smile

He would never hurt an animal, but they’re scared of him :(

He pefers eating things raw <3

His tongue looks like a lil heart in his mouth, but it’s very long

Whenever he uses human like materials for his body, he looks a lot older and crusty, so he consumes things like metal to create a cleaner body

He stops smiling when someone makes him mad or upset

He has many outfits, but his main outfit is his favorite

He’s a stalker, but not an insane stalker

He weights about 2.5 pounds in his hairball form

He doesn’t have a belly button

He hates Maison Talo because he gets too close to the MC

regular guys are actually pretty clean and they don’t need to bathe! if his human body does get too dirty, he will eat it and craft it over again, but if his hairball body gets dirty, he can take a dust bath! regular guys usually tend to each others hygienic needs too!

The creator stated that they see doe as "trans in representation," but they want their fanbase to have fun and make him whatever they want him to be!

If doe were on a boat, would he get sea sick? The answer is no, but he would be extremely terrified.

He has no preference for the gender of his partner, so he could be considered Pan or canonically, Bisexual.

John doe can drive! Here’s his license:

[shall-we-die]

╔‌‌‌‌═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚

{Lovely Boyfriend}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!

╚═══════════════•⊰•°༄༚‌‌‌

𝕊𝔽𝕎

Diavolo loves spoiling you with little gifts like your favorite cake, a plushie of a cute animal, or a handmade necklace.

He has a sweet tooth and is always prepared with a secret stash of various sweet and delicious cakes and snacks to share with you.

He loves taking you out on dates to different locations in the Devildom, showing you the best sights the realm has to offer.

He takes any free time he gets to spend with you and show you affection.

He loves cuddling on the sofa and enjoying a movie or tv series together, sometimes making light commentary on the characters' actions.

He enjoys cooking your favorite meals and always tries to make them look as aesthetically pleasing as possible. (Barbatos is panicking secretly)

He will always be there to listen to you whenever you need to talk or if you want to tell him about your day.

He will always take the time to brush or comb your hair when you're feeling down, and he'll listen intently if you want to talk to him about how you feel.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎

He has a very high sex drive and loves to surprise you with sneaky and seductive tricks to tease you before he brings things to the bedroom.

He loves making out with you and finding new ways to kiss you, often pinning you to somewhere in the castle such as a wall or the kitchen counter.

He loves to kiss and nip at your neck while his hands run all over your form, showing you just how much he wants you.

He likes to take control in the bedroom and make you see stars, often making you feel like putty in his hands.

He loves teasing you and will play little sexy games such as strip poker before the main event takes place.

He finds great pleasure in making love to you, making sure every minute he spends with you is filled with pleasure.

[selineram3421]

*has a headache* It's ok, I took medicine.

The Observer

Prologue

Alastor X Godlike Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ reader can shape-shift to blend in, mention of blood, eye getting torn out, and wings ripped ⚠

You rolled your eyes as you watched your youngest brother sit atop his thrown, surrounded by angels.

Admittedly, his realm was beautiful but it was quite boring and filled with stuck up persons, but at least there were a few nice souls roaming about.

"Brother, please tell me you have something fun to do?", you asked but did not get a response.

You groaned and shifted into looking like an angel, now visible for the others to see.

Flying down, you approached one of the winged creatures and they stared back at you.

Blink blink.

"Hmm.. Nope. This got boring.", you sigh and shift back. "I'm going downstairs since you are 'so busy' with work.", you say to your brother and make quotation marks with your fingers.

You still don't get a reply.

With that, you cut open a portal and step through it. Shifting into looking like a sinner as your feet touch the grounds of Hell.

Maybe I should visit my nephew.. You thought as you walked down the street, blood, garbage, and some graffiti littered about. Lucifer is quite fun.

Before you could start heading to Lucifer's castle, a startling loud introduction to a tv show began.

A sinner with a television for a head started talking in a fast pace, talking down on what you assume is another sinner.

"Hm..", you crossed your arms.

Then there's a crackle. Turning to the sound, you find a radio behind a glass window.

"Oh! What a lovely vintage!", you say with sparkling eyes.

Humans were very interesting but then they became repetitive and you only checked in when there was something new. You collected quite a bit of the items that were made for fun.

"Salutations! Good to be back on the air.", a voice came through.

You didn't notice the crowd that formed behind you as the two sinners started going back and forth. The radio man not really talking to the other, but the television man trying his best to get the last say.

Then the power went out, the only light coming from the radio that was somehow able to stay on.

"Let's begin~ I'm gonna make you wish I stayed gone. Tune on in. When I'm done, your status quo will know its race has run. Oh, this will be fun~", the broadcast finished.

You were grinning, hiding it behind your hands.

Oh what a funny little fight! I want to see what the winner looks like! I can visit Lucifer after, I'm sure he wouldn't mind. You thought and made your way into a dark alley before shifting.

Now invisible, you glided over to follow the trail of static like magic, finding it connected to the radio that went towards a tower.

It was such and oddly paced thing, looking like it would fall over any minute.

Hm. I should walk through the door of the building it's attached to. You decided and shifted again, looking different than the form you took earlier.

This time you were taller and had a tail like a little devil. Your arms darkening to look like the night sky, with little speckles that looked like stars. Long horns sitting atop of your head that twisted in curls before straightening out.

"Oh, I like this one. I'll save this to wear again.", you said before knocking on the double doors.

It took a second before one of the doors was practically ripped open.

A blonde smiled widely up at you, reminding you of your nephew with the pink on their cheeks.

"Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!", she greeted and stepped out of the way. "Please come in!"

Entering the building, you saw it was a fancy but run down hotel. It was quite nice but could use a little fixing. Too bad that you couldn't do anything to alter any of the realms you visited.

There could be so much you would fix.

"What is your name?", you asked the blonde woman, turning to look at her with a soft smile.

"Oh! My name is Charlie and I am the founder of the hotel! It's purpose is to rehabilitate sinners.", Charlie answered with a beaming smile.

"My! That is very interesting."

You followed her into the lobby and let her speak more about the hotel. Then, as Charlie was speaking, you saw an angel enter the room. Her long white hair flowed with slight movement as she stood next to the blonde.

"Who is this?", she asked, crossing her arms.

She glared at you like you had done something unspeakable.

Oh, what have they done to you? You wondered. If an angel is down here, they must have done something wrong or someone from upstairs unjustly cast them out.

"Oh, um..", Charlie looked at you. "What is your name?"

"I am just here to look around, see something new.", you said. "I have no name but you can call me Penjani."

"What do you mean you have no name?", the angel asked.

"Vaggie-"

"It's alright.", you wave off Charlie's concern. "I was never given a name, I was just created and left to wander."

It was somewhat true.

You did not get a name, but the humans and other creatures of the universe named you many things or didn't even know about you. But that's how its always been.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..", the angel, Vaggie looked at the floor.

"It's alright, no harm done.", you patted her shoulder.

With contact, you saw why she was down in Hell.

Adam, the first man, had abandoned her after she defied orders. Her wings cut off and her eye tore out by another angel, an exorcist. You took your hand back after seeing all that you needed too. Finding out Charlie was the Princess and family.

"I actually came to see something else too.", you said with a closed eyed smile.

The two looked at you, curious.

"What else did you want to see?", the Princess asked.

You pointed up. "Who occupies the tower?", you asked. "The black one with red tinted windows."

That is when you actually started to feel the buzz from the static you were following earlier. It crawled across your skin, leaving tingles as it passed down.

Then a new voice spoke up.

"That would be me."

Looking behind you to find where the voice was coming from, you saw a red deer demon. His hair, clothes, and eyes were red. A handsome face that you remember seeing before, around the nineteenth century if you recall. He was a dashing human and now he was a devilishly handsome demon.

He grinned once your eyes were on him, as if he was satisfied with your attention.

"I am Alastor, The Radio Demon."

A song helped me get the rest of this typed out. Thank the Dolly Parton song, Jolene.

~Seline, the person.

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ML II Alastor🎙

[unholyhelbig]

Natasha Angst pls !!!

Title: Hail Hydra

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanov/Romanoff

Word Count: 6062

Warnings: Mentions of torture, mentions of mind control, gunshot wound, visions of drowning, general angst, and horrible spelling because I never proofread, angst with an eventual happy ending. Sort of.

Summary: Reader is sent into the Framework, an alternate world where her biggest regret is remedied. What happens when she realizes that this might be a better reality?

[A/n: Do you need to know anything about Agent of Shield to read? No, but you're depriving yourself of the brillance that is the Framework arch if you don't. Seriously some of the best acting in the Marvel Tv universe.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The bedroom had a coolness to it that was interrupted by the slats of white light streaming through the window. You’d kicked the heavy duvet from your feet to compensate for the rise in temperature, but still found yourself sweating through your shirt.

The apartment that you rented in Lower Manhattan faced away from the sun. You relied on your natural clock and the blaring alarm to rouse you from sleep- never the sun. You breathed in the floral scent of laundry detergent, hugging the cool side of the pillow close. You’d never felt more content, and squeezed your eyes shut until you saw stars, willing sleep to envelope you once more.

It was when the bed shifted next to you, and the weight of an arm around your midsection tightened, did you finally open your eyes. The ceiling was a light gray color, a fan whirring with a dull hum in its center. A cold nose that certainly didn’t belong to your dog pressed behind your ear.

As far as you were concerned, you had fallen asleep alone last night. Not only that, but you had succumbed to the day's exhaustions in your own home. Not the SHIELD base. Your heart pounded in your chest, fingers gripping listlessly at the thousand count sheets that were too soft to be your own.

A raspy groan rumbled against your skin, formed into tired words. “You’re awake.”

Your body tensed even further, if possible, eyes darting frantically to the woman next to you. Natasha Romanoff. The Black Widow. SHIELD’s ultimate weapon and your on and off fling for the past seven years. She’d never stayed the night past hot tangles of limbs and bitten exclamations of ecstasy. Even that had stopped two years ago- your relationship, or lack thereof, turned strictly professional.

You, a high ranking SHIELD agent, and her an Avenger that did more press than missions at this point. Your paths barely crossed and when they did, she would offer you a huff of indignance, but never a smile. She’d made you question your abilities in bed. But, it was nearly impossible to be a good lay for something like Natasha. Someone so sensual and carnal.

Her fingers dug into your ribs painlessly, heat overwhelming on your bare skin where her touch had traveled. There was a coolness of a wedding band there, and your thumb swiped against your own ring finger, meeting the edge of gold. Your breath caught entirely, and this caused the trained spy to pull her head from the crook of your neck and level you with a sleepy, adorable, pout of concern.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, prying her hand from your midsection and pressing the back of her fingers to your head. She was taking your temperature. “Are you feeling alright?”

You blinked at her ripe green eyes. You had to say something but Natasha was not known for her displays of affection, nor had she ever asked if you were okay, outside of the realm of your usual consents and safewords. Of course- she’d never stayed the night either.

“I’m fine,” Her eyes narrowed at you and she shifted on her elbow, pulling the blanket up to her chest. You struggled to soothe her with something more genuine. “I might be coming down with a cold.”

“Mm, your throat sounds a little scratchy.”

She kissed your temple and you fought back another wave of stiffness that threatened to overtake you. This was all so strange. This room was not your own, and it had too many personal effects to be Natasha’s. There was a wedding band on your finger, and as your eyes moved across the dresser, there were multiple photos of the two of you together. Then- there were three.

“You can take today, I’m sure Leo won’t mind. He’d rather you better than forcing yourself to go into work.”

Leo. He never used his first name at the office. He was Agent Fitz, he was Fitzsimmons, he was a loveable and brilliant man who divulged his hatred for his namesake over half a pack of Miller Lights.

“No, no. I’ll be alright, really.”

She shot you another skeptical look but didn’t push the matter further as she rose from the warmth of the bed and started towards the bathroom. You watched her toned figure as she made her way to the sink and flicked on the water.

You sat up, head swimming. Your body ached as if you actually did have a cold. But you forced yourself to the dresser, picked up a photo that was propped up next to a glass dish filled with silver rings and jewelry.

A nice family photo of both you and Natasha, and a young teenager that had the Black Widow’s eyes and the slope of your nose. Your heart seized and then warmed. The two of you had a daughter? God- you really must have hit your head to cause this level of delusion.

“I know you miss her,” Natasha sighed out. She leaned against the doorframe, toothpaste frothing at the corners of her mouth. You breathed in the sharpness of the mint that accompanied her, running your thumb over the textured frame. “But, I’m sure she’s having an amazing time at the Barton farm. We can video chat tonight.”

You felt the corner of your lip pull up in affection for this stranger. “I’d like that.”

Natasha’s eyes crinkled into a smile that made your world tint. You’d seen her experience bliss before, but this was something different. This was something you wanted to pull out of her any chance you got. The light in her eyes was unmatched.

She slapped your ass hard enough to pull you out of your own head. “Well then, Malyshka, if you’re that intent on going to work today then you better get a move on.”

apprehensively, you did as you were told and started to rifle through the drawers until you found an acceptable pair of pants and a shirt. You were thankful that Natasha had retreated back into the bathroom so she couldn’t see your confused attempts at figuring out what drawer was what.

When she did emerge, she was in a silk black button down and a pair of pants that hugged her curves perfectly. Bouts of red hair fell over her shoulders and a standard issue gun was attached at her hip. Your mouth went dry as she closed the distance between you both and ran her fingers under your own collar, smoothing it down.

“Something’s missing,” Natasha purred, your stare snapping up to hers in a silent, and despite plea for mercy. She was a dangerous creature, one that could snap your neck in a moment if you gave her cause.

Kid be damned. Happy married life be damned.

“That so?”

“You almost forgot your badge. I’m not turning around on the freeway again, baby.”

A nervous chuckle escaped you, one saturated in relief. Natasha held up the simple identification and the noise died in your throat. Agent Y/L/N. Level Seven. Hydra. The gangly tentacles stretched its suction cups towards the edges of the plastic, hollow skeletal eyes stared back at you as you struggled to school your expression. Natasha’s eyebrow lifted.

“I’ve just realized, that is a horrible photo of me.”

She scoffed, shoulders pitching low “Everyone knows you can get a better picture at the DMV. I don’t hold it against you. But I will if we’re late.”

Kate’s hands were bound behind her back. She looked stiff, uncomfortable in the lone metal chair that was in the center of the interrogation room. Her hair was springing in different directions from her ponytail, shoulders rolling back ever so often to quell the pounding in her spine.

Her eyes found yours through the two-way glass, almost as if she sought out your presence. That gray and stormy stare bore into you. It took everything in you not to look away, to cower in the face of her pain and suffering.

Natasha frowned at the file open in her hands. “How can such a brilliant girl with a family like the Bishops sympathize with the likes of SHIELD? With a mother like Eleanor, you’d figure something good would translate.”

Good. The establishment you had wandered into like a ghost without chains made your stomach clench in fear. There was nothing good about this place. The scent of blood and the lack of light in every stare was telling enough. None of it seemed to bother Natasha, so you threw your chin up and made sure it didn’t bother you too.

“She’s not talking.” Yelena took a long, slow sip of her coffee. The hazelnut scent coated your lungs. She leaned against the wall, staring at the woman as if she’d never set eyes on her in her life. “Are you feeling up for some fun?”

You glanced at Natasha, and it was clear that she wanted an answer from you as well. There was a reason you were Level Seven- you figured. People didn’t make eye contact with you as you

walked through the white halls. They turned the other way and scrambled from the elevator the second you appeared. How naive of you to think that the Black Widow herself was the only catalyst.

“How much fun?” You sounded out.

“As much as you want. Just keep her tongue in her mouth and keep her alive. Leo wants to speak with her, and she can’t very well provide answers if she’s choking on her own blood.”

You made a small noise at the back of your throat and ran your finger over the cool metal pin that was tacked to the lapel of your shirt. Another thing that Natasha swore you forgot. The same logo on your badge that had granted you entry to the Hydra Headquarters was embossed into the golden broach.

Natasha and Yelena wore the same ones. So did every single person that you had passed on your way here. Everyone but Kate.

“You are not excited?” Yelena took another sip, stare boring into you behind her cup.

“She’s not feeling well.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively. “I tried to get her to stay home but she must have gotten wind of the prisoner. She’s been wanting to let off some steam.”

Yelena seemed satisfied enough with Natasha’s answer and you pushed through the door into the interrogation room before they had a chance to question you further. One Romanoff sister was enough, you couldn’t grapple with the suspicions of two.

A look of relief washed over Kate’s eyes for only a moment, a flash that was too quick to catch through the two-way glass. You willed her silence. Her heels dug into the floor and pushed her further back into her chair.

You knew exactly what you were capable of, and it burned at your fingertips. Coulson, you knew, had taken you in years ago after you’d escaped from the very organization that swarmed around you now. You had two choices: Remain one of Hydra’s most feared interrogators, war criminal and enforcer, or give it all up to pledge loyalty to SHIELD.

This world- you had learned- was backwards. More than Natasha Romanoff being your wife. The two of you had a child together, but the two of you served the evil that you had torn yourself away from.

The sweat dripping from the tip of Kate’s nose into the cloying heat that was used as a torture tactic confirmed that your reputation proceeded you. In this world, you hadn’t said yes to Coulson. In this world, you were positive you spit in his face before pilling the trigger.

You got close, used your hand to tip back the chair that Kate was sitting in. She yelped, your other hand reaching up and lilting her chin up to meet your eyes. Kate was trembling and the sight alone was enough to break your heart. You gritted your teeth.

“Where the hell are we?” You whispered to her, so low it came out as an exhale that only you could hear. Her gaze betrayed shock, so you yanked her forward, exclaiming louder. “Look at me!”

“You’re Hydra.” She gritted.

“You’re not. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

All the while, you pleaded with your eyes. Kate was a smart girl. She was quick to put the pieces together. The two of you were not of this universe. She still had the soft pink scar across her nose from the first mission the two of you had together. The same need for comfort in her gaze.

When she did nothing but blink slowly at you, you reached for the small tray of weapons by her side. Almost on instinct, your fingers wrapped around the sharpest, serrated blade. You willed your hand not to shake as you pressed the tip right under her ear. Again, you made sure you were loud enough to appeal to the Romanoff’s excitement when it came to torture.

“Yelena told me that you have to keep your tongue. But she never said anything about that innocent face of yours.” You moved behind her, lowering your voice to nothing but a murmur. “You can trust me, but I might have to hurt you.”

“You bastard!” Kate pulled on her restraints, jerking forward. “I’d rather die than serve Hydra.”

You grabbed her hair, pulling until she was staring up at you, tears forming against her slate stare. Your stare was hard, nearly unforgiving. Being this close, being back in an interrogation room with a blade pressed ever so slightly to soft skin made you fight back cravings for violence that had been engraved in you since day one.

“Tell me, who sent you?”

Again, you were met with silence. You pushed a scoff from your lips and returned the blade to its rightful place on the tray. Instead, picking up a set of iron knuckles that were already speckled with little spots of rust, pools that had been from previous victims.

You gave Kate an apologetic look, your back to the window, before you used a good portion of your strength to slam into Kate’s ribs. She grunted, falling forward, her chin dipping into your collarbone. You’d heard a dull pop, felt the dampness of a cough of blood. You hadn’t meant to hit that hard, really.

“Aida,” Kate whispered against you “Framework. It’s not real.”

“It feels real.” You shoved her back and she spit to the side, a mixture of spit and blood. Strings webbed from her lips as she leveled you with a glare. You grabbed her chin again. “I’ll get us out of here, but you have to trust me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re Hydra, y/n.”

The words were unspoken, besotted in her throat. But they were there all the same. ‘Something tells me you like it here.’ In your world- in the one not manufactured by a robot that had gained sentience, you were hard to trust. This version of you fit like a glove, and maybe you did miss it. But the pain in Kate’s stare would haunt you for months, years, perhaps forever.

“Don’t fight them,” You purred “give them what they want.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Leo might have better luck,” you said at a normal volume, straightening up and wiping her blood on her shirt. “I suggest you speak to him unless you want to puncture a lung.”

Kate leveled you with a dark look, one that rang with understanding, and fear. One more hit to the temple and she slumped in her seat, unconscious. A bloom of blood dripped down the side of her face and joined the stream at the corner of her mouth, soaking into her collarbone.

You’d learned long ago that Hydra waited for their prisoners to gain consciousness to continue their assault, their conditioning. Kate succumbing to darkness, if only for a bit, would buy you more time. You quieted for a moment, clenched your eyes shut before you threw yet another punch.

A storm brewed just north, the leaves on large oak trees showing their pale, soft underbellies. It was a sign that rain would fall hard and fast. Your mother taught you to breathe deep on the damp soil. You rolled down the window, letting the water-logged air clear your senses and cool your cheeks.

Natasha glanced at you worriedly and you supposed that you’d never get used to the gesture. It was the one thing in this world that didn’t make sense. The torture, the pain that you caused was expected of you. The love that she showed shook you to your core. It would be easy to stay, to love her back.

You’d paid apt attention to the route that connected your innocent suburban home to Hyda’s base. This was certainly not the way back, but you held your tongue, squeezed it between your molars until you felt the sting prickle at your eyes.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, darling.”

“I know. I should have stayed home today.” you murmured, feeling the soreness of your jaw.

Natasha let out an exhale and pulled over to the side of the road. You took stock of your situation. You were far into the country, the lush green grass and empty highway seemed like as good a place as any to die.

If you were to die in the Framework, would you perish in life too? There was a good chance that even this parallel world had a cruel sense of humor.

Natasha put the car into park and turned in her seat. The sun was just starting to set, turning the sky a toxic shade of orange that reflected off her skin, making her glow ethereally. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. You could drown in the deep fern pools.

When she reached for you, you flinched, burrowing deeper into the passenger seat. A word wasn’t uttered as she reached and gently unclipped the pin that was on your collar. Ever so subtly, she placed it in the center console, giving you much of the same look that Kate had earlier. Pleading.

“I know what’ll make you feel better.” Her voice had dropped a few octaves, nimble hands working at her own pin. She set it not far from yours and lifted her chin towards the door.

“Public indecency, Nat.”

“When has that stopped us before?”

You huffed, and pushed yourself from the car and took a few steps towards the tree line. Gray clouds pockmarked the sky, looking as if they were ready to burst. You knew better than to turn your back on the Black Widow, made-up universe or not.

A glare had etched itself onto her features, and you couldn’t tell if it was sexual or predatory or both. You backed up with each step until your spine hit bark. You could smell the rain now, the honeysuckle from the small yellow flowers intertwined with poison ivy. Sweet with a deadly bite.

She let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move when she pulled the gun from the small space between her back and her jeans. You’d expected the tip of it to be placed between your brows, a quick and easy kill. But, instead, she shoved it into your collarbone.

“Coulson, he said that there was hope for you. That eventually, everything that you stood for would click as the wrong thing.”

“Nat, I don’t understand.”

And you didn’t- not entirely. You could hear the rolling thunder to your left, feel the electricity in the air. When she glanced at the ground, a tear slid down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away before you had the chance. You heard the shift in the gun, the almost pull of the trigger.

“Every relationship has its flaws, you know? You being Hydra, you living and breathing, and dying for Hydra despite everything that they’ve done was something I could overlook until I saw what you did to Kate today.”  

“You’re a double agent.”

She sniffed, “yeah, baby. I figured you deserved to know the truth before… What you did in there. If you could do that to Kate, then what’s stopping you from doing it to Milla. Our Milla.”

Natasha was sobbing now, swallowing back the noises that threatened to bubble up in her chest. The warm rain had begun to fall in a distant trickle, hitting the leaves with little patters that rivaled your own heartbeat.

“I would never hurt her,”

Your voice cracked. This, you knew to be true. The warmth that flooded you as you gripped the picture frame that morning had bonded you to a stranger. You’d let your fear ebb away at everything else, following Natasha like a sick puppy around the Hydra compound. The gun started to ache against your chest.

Natasha whimpered, closing her eyes and pushing ever so slightly on the trigger. She didn’t believe you. How could she? You still had dried specks of Kate’s blood on your shirt, splattered across your jawline.

“I want to believe you, love. But you’ve been pulling away from me for years now. They’ve gotten into your head, they’ve taken you from me and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get you back.”

You swallowed hard. She’d moved the gun from your chest down to your abdomen, pressing hard enough to make your ribs ache viciously. You muffled your own sorrow, swallowing back the cry that threatened to escape you.

“The day that Milla was born was the happiest day of my life. She was so small, so precious in your arms. When you looked down at her and her fingers wrapped around your own, I saw a glimpse of your humanity. Your love for her, for me. But that’s gone.”

“No, no it’s not. Nat, baby, you have to listen to me.”

“I don’t!” yelled, shoving the tip of her gun further into you. “I’ve waited long enough, y/n. I thought there was a gray area between SHIELD and Hydra and I hoped that you resided in it. You can’t talk your way out of this. Not this time.”

She swiped at her tears, frowning at you. Your shoulders dropped. Her version of you had given her nothing, had pulled away and leaned into the organization that tormented them both. They’d been in love once, you knew.

Natasha Romanoff was a fantastic shot.

You would have two lead slugs in your stomach before you twitched a finger. What was it Jemma said about staying alive in the Framework? Everything was becoming blurry, married with emotion. You could feel the anger, the malice, in this worlds version of you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, throat constricting. “For everything, Natasha. Be careful, for Milla’s sake.”

You shut your eyes, breathing in the electricity in the air, drops of rain soaking into the warm soil under your feet. You curled your fingers into your palms, paying attention to the sting of your nails in moldable flesh. You waited for her to pull the trigger.

The gun had gone off point-blank against your abdomen, filling your mouth with the acrid taste of copper. Doctor Arnmin Zola was a fan of submerging you in ice water when you’d resisted his programming. You’d refused to panic at first, instead, holding your breath until your lungs screamed for solace. But he had grown bored of your game and resorted to other techniques like a serrated blade to the tendons in your shoulder, in your leg.

It was impossible not to simulate drowning when your body naturally wailed in pain. You knew what it felt like to drown, and as you were pulled from unconsciousness with a surplus of warm blood muddying your throat, you recalled that it would do you no good to panic.

You coughed, your lungs crackling and stomach pulsing in pain as your muscles tried to compensate for your adrenaline. A table, you were strapped to a table, and the leather cuffs around your wrists began to tear with your struggle.

“Y/n!”

You could recognize Jemma’s voice, even through the static in your mind. Your world was pulsing, black dots swimming against your vision. There were wires attached to your temples, adhesive pulling uncomfortably at your skin. A strong, familiar hand pressed down on the center of your chest.

“Jemma, what’s happening?”

“She must be going into shock. I can’t see where the blood is coming from.”

Ever the calm doctor you heard the rip of fabric and felt the assault of sterile, cold air against your skin. You knew exactly the source, the wound in the center of your stomach where Natasha- Framework Natasha- had unloaded her clip.

“You have to do something!”

There were traces of worry in the other voice, the one you refused to pin down. It was raspy, familiar, but nothing compared to the pain that choked you mercilessly. You were screaming, wailing as if you were haunting an abandoned mansion. It took you a few barely-lucid seconds to understand the noise was coming from you.

“I’m nowhere near well-equipped. I’d need sedative, and nothing here is sterile!”

“You’re SHIELD, Jemma. You work with what you have. Figure it out. I can’t lose her.” 

Your vision was swimming in darkness, taking away what little clarity of your surrounds you had. It was if that one word, that one person, knew exactly what you needed to hear. Your mind stopped fighting so hard to utilize its adrenaline. You could rest, give in to the quiet, because it was SHIELD.

It was SHIELD.

The dry, metallic taste in your mouth was nearly gone the next time you stirred. Though, you craved a glass of water that would soothe the rest of your discomfort. Your head was pounding, the pinch of an IV had replaced the receptors attached to your temples.

A huge, freezing breath was drawn in with a gasp. You weren’t strapped to a table anymore, no bright and dehumanizing lights above your head. The ones in the room had been dimmed. This was an unfamiliar medical bay, but you had a blanket, and that was more than you’d been offered during your last bout of lucidity.

Jemma stirred in the chair that was positioned next to your bed. Her hair had been combed through with her fingers, glasses on the center of her nose. There were bags under her eyes and out of instinct, she felt across your throat to check the strength of your pulse, despite the machines in her presence.

“Oh, thank goodness. You must be thirsty.” She seemed to read your mind, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed liquids right now. But I sent Agent Romanoff for some ice chips.”

You stiffened at her name, opened your mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut when you realized your body would protest more than you were ready to counteract. Agent Romanoff was here? The last you’d seen of the real her was on a balcony in Amsterdam. She’d slipped out of your room as steadily as she’d slipped in. 

Jemma had shifted onto the corner of your bed. “We weren’t expecting you to get pushed out of the Framework. It’s nearly unheard of.”

“Pushed… out?”

“With Aida’s meticulous planning, she’s accounted for every contingency within the Framework. She’s manipulated Fitz into doing her bidding, and Daisy too. I suppose she wanted to add you to her ever growing list of prisoners but you weren’t as susceptible.”

“She kicked you out.”

Natasha was leaning against the doorframe, her head tilted to the side. There was a glass mug in her hand, most-likely overfilling with ice that you longed for. Still, you tensed at her presence, pushed yourself further into the plastic headboard out of apprehension. She certainly had the upper-hand now.

Jemma noticed the change in your demeanor, the palness that washed over your skin. “Are you in pain?”

Well, yes, but it was more of an impossible longing for that brief moment of domestic bliss that you had with the Black Widow herself. Of course you didn’t regret your choice to defect from Hydra. Your biggest regret was letting Natasha slip through your fingers.

“I’m alright, really. Everything just felt so real.”

She looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “We’re still monitoring Kate. She’s given us a few scares.”

“You need to pull her out,” You tried to sit up further but the bullet wound in your stomach had other ideas. Your fingers brushed against the wrapped bandages. You’d broken a few ribs yourself.

“Agent y/l/n we don’t know if that’s safe.”

“Kate being in there isn’t safe. The Framework is built around Aida, and Aida wants to lead Hydra. Kate she’s not- she didn’t wake up in the same situation as me. She woke up a traitor and if we don’t pull her out soon, she’s not going to make it at all.”

Jemma frowned and considered your words, smoothing her hand over your knee before she stood. There was guilt in her posture. The two of you had agreed to be sent in, but she was the one who had done it. You wanted to assuage her worries, but she had shifted into a different vein of thinking; a productive one that left no room for feelings of regret.

She excused herself, leaving you in an uncomfortable silence with Natasha, save for the constant whirring and beeping of the machines around you. She took a few steps into the room, but didn’t get closer.

“What did you wake up to?”

The question hung in the air like a blade positioned over your jugular, it’s own sharpness a reason for your ultimate demise. When you didn’t answer, averting your gaze, Natasha took Jemma’s place on the hospital bed. Her warmth was domineering. She smelled like Framework Natasha, sweet with an acidic bite.

Subtly, you pushed yourself closer to the headboard once more. Of course, with someone like the Black Widow, nothing was ever subtle. It was her job to read and decipher your body language. Even if you weren’t an open book, she still scanned the pages shamelessly.

She scoffed, “I’m not going to bite, y/n.”

“Perhaps not, but will you shoot?”

Her hand tightened on the Styrofoam cup and it produced a small scream of pain that made your ears ring. She stared down at your fingers flush against the gauze, slowly soaking with a horrid red color.

“I did that? In the Framework?”

“I really didn’t give you much of a choice.” You laughed bitterly, wincing at the pain. “I was Hydra and you were pretending to be. I guess even in the perfect world, your pension for doing the right thing will outweigh the wrong. I can’t fault you for that.”

“I would never hurt you.”

The sincerity of her words tilted your world. There was a quiet warmth to them that filled you with the positives of the Framework. Your wife. The mother of your child. She sat in front of you now, being neither of those things.

Natasha picked up a chip of ice and silently begged to scoot closer, you gave her the slightest of nods, let her press the ice against your lips. You were flooded with instant relief. The dryness on your tongue evaporating. You very well could have done this yourself- but there was something intimate about her offer that you didn’t refuse.

“When Simmons told me that you were going into the Framework, I tried to get here with enough time to stop you. But I was off world and when I got here, so were you.” She frowned, placed the ice in your mouth. You bit down on it with a satisfying crunch. “Going in there was foolish.”

“I wanted to save them.”

“You can’t save everyone, y/n. You work for an organization teeming with agents that have a martyr complex as strong, if not stronger, than your own. Yet, you throw yourself into a world where everything is worse.”

“Not everything.”

She drew in a breath and stared down at the cup. The question she wanted to ask was dancing on the tip of her tongue. But she was stubborn, and for anyone but her, so were you. You swallowed, dampening the coolness that coated your throat.

“The two of us, we were married. We lived together in the suburbs and had a daughter… I didn’t get to see her past a family photo because she was at the Barton farmhouse. But she existed, and we existed.”

She blinked at you, and you couldn’t read her emotions. The last time you’d dared to have a conversation with her about being more, she rushed out of the motel queen sized bed with itchy sheets and put her pants on inside-out, just to avoid the implication of an actual date. You’d never asked again, content to repress it for moments of strung-out bliss that she was so good at providing.

“It’s selfish to even think that I was better off there. Everyone else was unhappy, giving in to the darkest parts of themselves. But it was different for us, I think. Because we already give in to the darkness. It’s not having the light that we regret.”

Silence enveloped you both, and you took a sudden interest in the frayed blanket that warmed you. The fabric touching your skin was starting to feel like too much, but you didn’t dare move.

“What’s her name?”

“Hm?” You hummed, glancing up at the woman in front of you who suddenly seemed so small. She had a light rosy blush to her cheeks and was chewing on her bottom lip. “Oh, uh, Milla.”

“Was she… did you like her?”

“I loved her, I’m sure of it. She was my world. Framework you shot me before we made it to Clints farmhouse, but shit, Nat, even looking at a picture of her was earthshattering.”

She let out a watery chuckle and reached out, taking your hand. You stiffened under her touch, so familiar, yet so foreign. Soon, you relaxed, her thumb brushing over the sore bruising on your knuckles.

“I’ve always wanted a life like that, you know? Save for being sleeper Hydra agents. But the white picket fence, and the PTA meetings, a dog, and family vacations to Niagara falls. I wanted it all.”

You whispered. “Wanted?”

“It’s not in the card for people like us, is it?” She used the base of her palm to brush a tear away before it hit the stiff blanket. “Even in a world that’s meant to be perfect, one of us always ends up hurt.”

Her hand was grounding you. You didn’t want to let her go, and she didn’t make a move to pull away. The two of you drank each other in, she smelled like the storm that you were ripped from, and you wanted more of it, you wanted to tuck your head under her chin and pull her close, despite the risk of tearing stitches.

“I’ve avoided you for years, because I’m afraid that if I don’t, you’ll charm me into giving things a shot.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “But watching you nearly die today sobered me up. I can’t lose you, I can’t handle losing you.”

“You won’t, Nat. If we can just give this a shot, give us a try, maybe we can have both.” You gave her hand a squeeze. “One date. I promise, I won’t propose, and I certainly won’t ask you to buy a house in the suburbs with me.”

“You want to go on a date after I shot you?” She scoffed.

“You didn’t shoot me. You got me ice, and that might as well be a ring.” Natasha giggled and the sound made heat rush from your stomach and up to your neck. You were thankful for the thin hospital gowns now. “we won’t know until we try, right? If we could make it work as Hydra and SHIELD, I think we could make it work on the same side too.”

“And if I hurt you?” She asked, “if I get scared and pull away?”

“I’ll pull you right back.” You smiled weekly, “if you’ll let me.”