#but ALSO im writing a fic man

[kjclfaller]

my want to continue writing that fic I'm writing vs my urge to make a specific au that no one asked for

[dansemacabre]

i’ve been thinking about “sixer, it would eat you alive” since i read it and. man. every layer you peel back makes it worse. im not a bill apologist but. shit

if you (1) take it at face value, it paints bill as an apologetic murderer in his single (and maybe sole) open moment of regret. he doesn’t let his walls down often- only with ford do we even get to see the remnant of his galaxy, see the “actual remorse” ford describes, get just a hint of his origins. but he does it, because he thinks ford should know.

if you (2) take it from ford’s point of view, as something he committed to journal three, like. wow. imagine being so committed to a being that you’d hunt down and kill the monster that destroyed his home, only to (assumably) figure out later that that being was the monster. the small moments of trust, the “good times”, are so key to manipulation. how long did ford hold onto that one shred of vulnerability? no wonder ford stayed for as long as he did. in his eyes, bill was a survivor. ford wanted to survive too.

(slight tw below for unreality- any time i mention our reality, i mean “our reality” as a narrative device used in the book of bill as a proxy for the idea of bill being in our reality, since he can’t actually be in our reality. all of this is a fictional theory about a show/book with fictional contents!)

but if you (3) remember that “even his lies are lies” and absolutely Nothing bill says should be trusted. Whoo boy. if i read tbob right the book itself is being created in the theraprism (even tho it shows up with the ciphertologists at some point? idk that’s a whole other post). it’s meant to show what the reader wants to see; it manifests in our reality as what the collective fandom wants to see. so if we want to see truth, if we want to see where bill ended up and who he actually is, there’s a non-zero chance that the whole interaction was a complete fabrication.

imagine bill, stuck in the actively harmful, probably earth-illegal theraprism, once again being forced to be “fixed” and molded into something more palatable, being forced to conform no matter how much it hurts. (i know natural uncontrollable mutation ≠ just so much murder and destruction and chaos, but. you can’t ignore the similarities. bill has obviously been thinking about those silly straws.)

he looks back on everything that went wrong, back on his relationship with ford, back through every dimension where he wins. would that one moment, that one truth amid centuries of lies, have saved him from purgatory? if he had just been open? shown his damage? maybe he did think of his parents, or his henchmaniacs (especially the oracle). people who he might have once opened up to. maybe he just wanted to open up to someone again.

so in his own weird way, stuck in a cell, he reshaped reality again. in this reality, for this fleeting moment, he had been someone worth believing. and ford had listened, hell, ford had wanted to help. looking back, knowing how he treated ford, knowing how ford ended up because of it, maybe bill would have said the most honest thing he’d ever told ford: i am the monster, i am not worth your time or belief, and i will eat you alive.

[solardrop]

tyrant.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: Hotch lets you take some anger out on him after he disrespects you on a case. tags: smut. 18+ mdni, oral F recieving, face sitting, handcuffs, hate sex?, maybe more so annoyed sex idk bro, not proofread word count: ~0.9k a/n: i have once again tried practicing smut. This is probably gonna happen a lot sorry. I feel like the header makes it seem like this is much more intense than it really is i promise you its not. I hope you like it! you can also read it on ao3!

Aaron lets out a tired sigh as he stretches his arms out across the bed of your shared hotel room. He shakes his hand petulantly, the sliver chain of his handcuffs jingling as he does so.

"Throwing a fit right now doesn't change you breaking the chain of command" he mutters

"I was doing my fucking job" you sneer "And you try to punish me for it?"

You secure his other hand with your own pair of cuffs. He was flat against the sheets now, arms locked to handles of nightstands to either side of the bed. "You embarrassed me Aaron, in front of the whole team—the whole fucking precinct!"

"Your idea was reckless. You were stubbornly determined to give local law enforcement tasks that would end up exploding in your face."

You blink slowly, heat rolling out from your ears at the nonsense you were hearing. Not a single apology.

"You're out of line and subverting authority," you mock," you're not in the position to give demands," Mimicking the earlier bite of the man who loved you oh-so-deeply as you climb up by his shoulders and hover your center above his face. A metallic clank sounds as he reaches to grab your thighs on instinct. A wicked smirk stretches across your lips.

"Careful sweetie," you pout, "wouldn't want you to have to go up the chain of command to report to Strauss the expense you raked up destroying hotel property."

You drag the length of your folds across his face, shivering as your clit nudges against the tip of his nose. Aaron's tongue laves out to taste you. He cranes his neck as much as he can without hurting himself, searching out more of your taste. He groans out in bliss when you finally put your full weight against him, finally able to slide his tongue into the warmth of your cunt.

When Hotch eats you out, you always feel stripped. He holds you open. He sets the pace. He decides exactly how and when you're gonna melt for his tongue. You were docile, malleable.

But like this? Your knees pressed into the mattress beside his head? The yellow hotel lights glinting off the steel wrapped around his wrists? The sight of his dark lashes fluttering below the curve of your stomach?

You brace a hand on the wall as you raise yourself up for a moment. Willing the dark vignette of your impending orgasm from the corners of your vision. If you cum now you'll fold. He'll tell you to let him go and your fuzzy brain will comply. You'd be under him in milliseconds. Right now you are in control, you wanna keep it that way. You close your eyes, One….Two….

"Fuck… Honey come on"

Your eyes flash open to glare at the man below you. "I'm sorry I didn't think I gave you permission to make any demands right now?"

He winces and licks his lips. The muscle in his bicep contracts as he pushes against his restraints. The corner of his cheeks shine with your wetness, the defiant look in his eyes making your pussy clench through your frustration.

"I'm sorry. But you can't undermine—"

You slam a hand down onto his forehead, lacing your fingers through his inky strands as you press his head back into the soft sheets. "God, shut up," you grit.

You grind your wetness along his face. You fight against his attempts to open his mouth, rutting your clit against his closed lips. You get a firmer grip of his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your center. Goosebumps prickle your back as your moan out into the sweet silence.

"You're such a —fuck— fucking bully," you wheeze, "I've trained. I'm— I'm capable and you know that." He hums, the vibrations tickling you all over.

"But you always steamroll every. fucking. thing i say."

You raise a leg and plant your foot into the mattress, the new angle giving you leverage to thrust into his mouth with new fervor. Breathless laughs escape your lips at every roll of your hips. The only sound the tyrant between your legs could make were a series of honeyed moans. The clinking sound of the metal around his wrists slows as he relaxes in your hands. Finally submitting to your power. His lips kiss and suck at wherever he can contact —your puffy lips, your hardened bud. Hotch was finally silent, finally pliant. Letting you—No fuck that, succumbing to you fucking his face. You bite out a remark with every buck of your hips.

"I don't have to respect shit"

"Who the f-fuck do you think you are?"

"if this is all it takes to get you quiet I would've done it — ages ago"

A powerful suck on your clit causes your voice to break. Your leg slams back down to the mattress as your thighs clamp around his head. The heat in your stomach builds as you hump against him frantically. Snarky comments and sharp curses replaced with heady pants. The ice cold rush of your orgasm surges through your spine, halting the circular motions of your hips. Your nails press into his scalp as you hold him to you; his tongue lapping at your inner folds while you shake against him. Your body relaxes as you ride out the wave of your orgasm. You use the last of your energy to toss yourself to the side of the mattress, careful not to kick him in the face on the way down.

Your eyes blur against the blinding lights, a pair of heavy breaths filling in the empty space around you. Aaron's still-hard dick strains through his slacks, making you giggle when you twist around to catch a glimpse of it.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, "I'm sorry, get the keys…let me touch you"

You really should follow the chain of command. 

[ghostbsuter]

Water drips down in the corner, the steady dop drop drop— does wonders for the bat.

Batman has been taken, tied up, and undressed of his utility belt. It takes him a second to figure out who took him, by the large but empty and run down warehouse, the sound of the shore not far away.

The docks. He shuffles, bound and comm off.

Then, the steel enforced door slams open and Joker enters.

"Batsy!" He calls, overjoyed. The man walks to the bound vigilante and crouches to his height.

"It's been so long, hasn't it been?"

The vigilante grunts. "Joker."

"Today will be different." He goes on, "today, we have," the crime Prince drums his fingers on Batman's thigh. "A guest!"

He freezes at that, Joker has a civilian.

(Oracle sends out the message, her voice firm, and the coords are shared to the rest of the clan in seconds as she looks at her monitor. Batman's red dot at the harbour bright.)

"I'm a guest now?" The voice of a child asks, it brings slight confusion that the boy wasn't tied nor harmed in any way.

It's relief that he seems okay, but the danger of standing next to the Joker has Batman wiggling in his restrains.

"Is that a promotion or demotion for son?"

A brief look of annoyance enters Joker before being smoothed out, the boy is dealing with a delicate time bomb. Uncomfortably close to the madman.

(He hurries in the process of breaking free.)

"My son! My blood!" Sings the clown, throwing his hands around the boy's shoulders and prancing around.

Which brings another question.

Son?

Cool lighting hits the boy's head and the tuffs of pink, blue and green become more obvious, hidden beneath black hair previously.

Joker and Harley have a child. A son.

He will visit harley later. The boy comes first.

"Dante! Danyal! Daniel?" Joker croons, shaking the boy. "What was it again?" He stops, turning his son toward him with a grin.

(Robin drops down behind him, hiding, katana ready to be swung.)

"Danny, actually," the child— Danny– shrugs off the hands and steps back. Unflinching from the judging stare, simply waving off the hands creeping to his throat.

"Danny," the name is tested, and the Prince of Crime hums to himself. "We can always replace it as Joker Jr! It fits you better than Danny."

(Red Robin and Spoiler get on position above them, ready to pounce from the construction pillars.)

"Yeah, I don't know about that." He chuckles nervous, catching Batman's eyes and—

His eyes alone scream of fear, scared– scared—!!

"We will get you an acid flower, a new suit as well, the hoodie looks horrible on you." The man notes, humming.

"I prefer hammers." Danny replies with tense shoulders.

Joker clicks his tongue, "You always went after your mother." he hisses, outright glaring at his son now. His hand tightened around the crowbar he'd gathered not long ago.

"I mean," he hesitates, eye trailing off the Joker and over his shoulder. "I did come out of her."

The sound of a loaded gun shatters the silence, and Joker is pulling Danny, switching their positions and pushing him right in front of the gun in Red Hood's hand.

"Always a coward, hiding behind others, aren't you." Danny stops himself from squealing. That's the Red Hood!

(Escrima sticks light up with electricity as Red Hood speaks.)

Joker is ticked off, party ruined and surrounded now that he looks around.

Oh well, he can get his son on his villain path another day.

Cackling, he evades the escrimas, dodging the wonder boy and evading the twin attacks from above.

He pulls out a trigger and presses the bright red Button.

"Have fun bats and birds!"

The warehouse is completely flooded with fear gas, scarecrow wouldn't be mad he sacrificed one of his warehouses, will he?

It's all blurry. In one moment, his view is shrouded, and he's coughing. In another, he gets picked up and brought outside, the Joker gone.

An oxygen mask is placed on him by a paramedic, being handed off to an ambulance that had been called.

Peeking around, he sees Red Hood (!) still lingering around. Danny catches his eye and with a wave, the man is walking towards him.

He simply crosses his arms and tilts his head, waiting.

"Could I get a picture?" Danny blurts out, flushing after and coughing, holding the oxygen mask in his lap.

Red Hood makes a show of his shoulder sagging before crouching down and leaning toward him.

Later, Danny will look at the picture with a boyish grin, crooked and charming.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

A continuation

[tobyisave]

the new crystal temp

[mblue-art]

this man. ..

(inspo) (og meme)

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[menlikeair]

NEW YORK AINT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU. [aidan shaw x fem!afab!reader]

mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating. intoxication. language. oral m receiving. angst! unprotected sex, aidan is kind of an asshole, be warned.

words: 3.3k

new york city drummed on balmy summer nights and the heat only amplified its pulse. people from all walks of life were carving out their own spaces in a city that never slept.

except for you, alone in your apartment. left to your own devices with nothing but the hum of sparse traffic outside and the patter of rain against your window. it poured heavily and bounced from the pavement, adding a rhythmic backdrop to the humid summer night.

the city seemed to mock your solitude with the straight downpour.

on the other side of chelsea, in stark contrast to your state, aidan stepped out of the club into a relentless sheet of rain, his mind a whirlwind. neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a glow around him.

betrayal still stung, and in true aidan shaw fashion, rain or shine, baby, he had once told you. he kept his promises.

the street bloomed white under two jittered flashes of lightning.

“juliet, give me my sin again!” he shouted, his voice cracked and carried a lazy slur. if you hadn’t known this tone so well, you’d almost mistake it for a teenager shittily spewing out shakespeare in hopes of getting some while his little juliet’s parents weren’t home.

you stepped from the bed and to the window to confirm what you already knew. it only took a small squint through the flowy curtains. it would almost be romantic if he wasn’t sopping wet and pathetic with a cocky shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome face as he caught a glimpse of you peering down at him.

you paced down each step before slinging the walk-up apartment’s heavy oak door open.

he leaned forward with both hands against the stairs gate, trying to keep his balance as the water soaked through his clothes and he laughed deeply to himself.

“really cute, but in case you didn’t notice, people live here, romeo.” you hissed and reached down to pull him up the stairs by the collar of his shirt.

aidan trudged up the narrow staircase closely behind you as you stomped. each step creaked under his weight.

“that was stupid, wasn’t even funny,” you mumble and glance at him from over your shoulder as your hands fumble with the keys in the lock.

“i come by it honestly.” he placed his hand over his heart and grinned mockingly.

the air inside your place was thick with the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. remnants of ongoing renovations.

he stumbled slightly, catching himself on the doorframe as he craned his neck to look around you. he surveyed the construction disaster of your so-called ‘living room.’

“well, look at you, little miss la-dee-da.” he pressed past you through the entrance.

“you’re dripping all over my rug,” you muttered from behind him.

“am i?” he sneered back at you.

his gaze flickered to the half-finished bookshelf in the corner.

“i’m quite the handyman, sugar.” he declared as he stripped himself of his jacket and tossed it onto a loveseat sitting awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“could’ve done this for you in a day if you kept me around long enough…” his finger glided over the drywall dust that had collected on a stack of books against the wall before turning to walk closer to you.

“so. what’s new, pussy-cat?”

the tone in his voice seemed to imply he was toying with you. the response was caught in your throat like an air bubble with no escape way.

you studied him quickly, almost obsessively. everything about him was different. they say hair holds memory, and for your own sake, you hoped that had been true. aidan had rid himself of his lengthy cupid curls, and as his broadly toned abdomen pressed against his clinging white dress shirt, you guessed a gym membership was included in the deal.

“what are you doing here, aidan?” you tiredly muttered, trying to hide any expression of shame that dared to ghost across your expression.

“thought i’d see what you were up to, troublemaker.” he grinned deviously, raising his eyebrows as he swayed a bit. he slowly turned on his heels to continue his track around your disastrous living room.

“man, the tunnel! great little place, you been?” he leaned down to pick and prod around at all of the misplaced trinkets on your coffee table. a dull thump of an overplayed club hit rang through his ears, and a few too many straight whiskeys clung to him.

you glanced at him and your mouth fell into a slightly o-shape in a lousy attempt to force the words out of your throat.

the audacity.

you rolled your eyes, “yeah, the tunnel. heard of it.” you mocked back sarcastically.

he hummed in response before letting a short huff of breath out. he turned to face you once again.

“anyway,” he raised his eyebrows and stepped close. too close for comfort. his broad frame towering over you made your heart thump harder and your mouth go dry.

“i think you got some explainin’ to do, little lady.” he expressively pouted his bottom lip.

“you look…different…” you squeaked embarrassingly in response and cleared your throat to divert the attention away from yourself.

“i thought you’d like it.. look like one of those limp-dick wall-street boys you’ve been runnin’ around with lately..” he grinned as his hands wrapped around the small of your waist to manually pull your body closer to his, leaving a suffocatingly insufficient amount of space between the two of you.

his words took you by surprise. on very rare occasions had you heard the man speak with hostility, it just wasn’t his thing, so you wondered why the words left his lips so naturally and smoothly.

“you’re very drunk..” your hands landed on his wide shoulders as you arched your back in a lousy attempt to create any amount of extra space with the man who effortlessly towered over you.

“no, ma, i ain’t.” his deep voice mocked an exaggerated southern drawl as his body leaned closer to dispel the newly added space.

you huffed, exasperated. a strap from your ivory nightdress slipped down your shoulder. you brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration and took a step away from his grasp.

images of a night months ago flashed through your mind. you remembered the dull headache that pounded between your eyes as sunlight poured through your apartment's cracked window. slamming doors and jumping up to run to the window, hoarsely yelling out for aidan, to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like.

but it was exactly what it looked like.

some lousy bartender with a pierced eyebrow sprawled across your bed right beside you in his underwear, there was no way to explain.

so, you didn’t.

you took your last look at aidan as he quickly hurried away from your apartment for the last time. until now. no email with an explanation or apology. no phone calls, no letters. and, at last, he was here for his closure.

he stepped away and leaned back against his palms on the island bar that separated your tiny living room and kitchen. an unfamiliarly smug smirk painted across his defined face. you caught a glimpse of his ribcage snugly pressed against the damp white fabric of his dress shirt, the newly toned muscle between each column of bone made your breath hitch. rainwater trickled from his brow onto the linoleum below his feet.

“aidan, i’m sorry,” you muttered apologetically. your expression softened as you searched for the words to explain, “i was very drunk and my friends.. they wouldn’t stop pressuring me.” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you continued.

“always in my ear about me losing my youth dating someone older, and—”

the shame flashed across your face sent a fresh wave of irritation through him. a deep hum from aidan stopped you and you watched as he tilted his head to the side to examine you. his hard expression didn’t change and your blood went cold as you realized that soft spot in his heart for you had long since turned rock-solid.

he adjusted his hips as his thick length twitched impatiently against his left thigh.

“you left me hangin’, baby, high and dry..”

he sucked his left cheek between his teeth and tsked, glancing down at his feet and he leaned back further against his palms, stretching his toned body.

you threw your hands up with a shrug of your shoulders in defeat “i’m sorry, i don’t know what else to say…”

aidan took one hand he was leaning against and completely grasped around your wrist to pull you a step closer.

“come here. what are you standing so far for?” he relaxed, looking down at you as he examined the surprised micro-expressions lighting your face up. the feeling of your wrist in his hand made his already-drunk thoughts spin. his jaw went slack as his body pressed into you with ease.

“you can’t just do this.” you hoarsely stammered, the pressure around your wrist applying as he pulled you closer.

“do what?” the man grinned against you teasingly. he turned his body and boxed you into the counter, bracketing you against the faux marble.

aidan's broad six-foot-five frame completely engulfed you. his hand released your wrist before snaking around your hips to pull you into his torso.

“busting in like you own the place and—” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and pressed into him closer, motioning over his body with your eyes

“this.”

you nervously toyed with the neckline of his shirt, slipping your fingers underneath to slide against his collarbone.

aidan’s breath hitched as your fingers traced against him. his eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer. the heat between you was palpable, and every inch of your body was hyper-aware of his proximity.

he ducked his head down and hunched over you, slowly pressing a kiss against your mouth and using his tongue to push through your lips like an intruder. you melted into him. thoughtlessly, like second nature.

and for a sudden, hopeless moment, you missed him. you missed his weight against you. his lips on yours just like this, slacking your jaw to allow his hot tongue to slip against yours as his hungry hands palmed your ass through a thin and nearly iridescent night dress.

you felt his thickness twitch against you, behind the constricting material of his tightening dress pants.

you were drunk on the way he smelled.

it was overtly masculine, everything about him was and always had been. heavy, earthy, and warm, the tinge of whiskey lingered on his lips and the scent of oak on his skin long after he’d left his workshop.

he pulled away to step forward, guide you into the living room, and sit in the heavy oak chair he’d designed with his own hands, sprawled back cockily. it creaked beneath his weight.

go on, baby.

you didn’t know whether it was his husky voice that had commanded you or your subconscious guiding you to pay your karma, but you obliged.

watching him loosen his belt, you lowered yourself to your knees and scooted forward.

“pretty girl,” he muttered to himself and tsked his tongue against his teeth in thought.

“you hurt me, you know that?” he felt better when he wasn’t made of steel with you.

his head tilted to the side to examine your flushed face and you instinctively pulled him out of his boxers. you craned your neck forward to trail a lick up the underside of his cock. his familiarity and warmth made heat coil low in your belly, pooling wet and anxious between your legs. he held you off, just enough so that he could watch you struggle forward trying to take him into your mouth fully.

he twitched against your tongue, huffing out a sharp breath. the uneven hitch of his breath urged you to continue and you take him into your mouth further. your throat constricted wildly, and he hissed through his teeth.

the two of you belonged to each other once again, the salvia pooling in your mouth, running down his length as your mouth and lips did the apologizing that your words couldn’t, belonged to him. his hand at the back of your head which felt like security, raising his hips to fuck up into your mouth. his groans belonged to you, just as they always had.

you whimpered softly as he tugged your hair to pull you from his flushed cock. a line of spit hung off your bottom lip, sticking to your chin. you wiped away tears from your clumped eyelashes with the back of your hand and sunk your teeth into your plump bottom lip eagerly. the need to please him was sudden and violent. his strong hand caught in the soft tangle of your hair.

his face was stricken with an expression you couldn’t quite grasp. with his nostrils flared and jaw clenched, you could recognize anger. but his softened gaze and furrowed eyebrows felt like sincerity, guilt. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to fuck a lousy apology out of you or send you to bed and leave as if nothing had ever happened in his drunken haze.

he used his large hand to wrap around his shaft and drag his slick tip against your open lips before pulling you down onto him once again.

your apology was warm around him, pressing up against the back of your throat.

it hurt in the way it was supposed to hurt — your guilt scorching away inside you.

he forced you down, filling your mouth with his cock, tears clouded your vision. your whimpers were garbled, broken things around his cock.

he’d been the one to teach you how to take it without a fuss, maybe he didn’t hear you over the resounding crashes of thunder and your window rattling on his hinges. couldn’t see the tears welling when you fluttered your eyes open up to him as he tilted his head back against the chair in a guilt-stricken haze of pleasure.

his gaze fell onto you, and his strong hand released the grasp on your hair.

“come here.” the man muttered, motioning you up with his head.

your fingers hooked at the straps of the flowing night-dressed and it fell to pool around your ankles. you stepped out of it, slipped onto his lap to straddle him, and closed your eyes as you sunk onto him with ease. he didn’t give you time to adjust to him before he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

a sharp hiss of an inhale left through your teeth as his tip reached far deeper than you had been used to in your time apart.

he leaned forward and groaned against your warm skin as his hips guided themselves upwards, he closed his eyes. his hands grasp around your waist to steady you and hold you in place as your legs shook in response. his head dipped down and his lips and tongue sloppily grazed your nipple.

“ ‘m sorry. ” your words left your lips like a soft cry as his cock reached deeply inside you, making your head fall backward, torso and breasts arching further against his mouth.

“you’re always doin’ shit you need to be sorry for.” he grunted into your skin and pulled you from his cock with both hands on the sides of your waist. he angled himself back and slowly rocked into you with a moan.

“gotta have the patience of a fuckin’ saint with you.” his jaw clenched as his thrusts went harder, deeper than you could handle.

you whined, an attempt to writhe away from him, but it was no use. you were his, and his strong hands around you made it impossible to lift yourself from him. your fingers dug into his wide shoulders over the translucent material of his damp shirt.

“it’s too much, it’s—” you took a ragged gasp as he pressed deep inside, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

he leaned closer as your body cautiously moved up and down.

any expression of guilt or shame had long been replaced by something else. anger, hunger, and he wanted you to feel it.

“it hurts, baby? does it?” he tilted his head with his slack jaw, a ghost of a smirk tugged the corner of his lip while watching you nod weakly through half-lidded eyes.

his free hand reached between you to draw slow circles against your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb.

“how bad does it hurt?” he sneered at you. his words were like venom. any ounce of sympathy had long since flown out of the window by now. he hoped it hurt.

at least this is the type of pain you could contort and manipulate into some kind of unsettling pleasure. you should consider yourself lucky.

he pressed further and you arched forward with a gasp, your lips trembled as they tried to form words that were no longer there, letting out a desperate sequence of moans, whimpers, and sobs. you answered his thrusts with weak rolls of your hips, pulsing around him. enveloping him. your body seemed to respond with a will of its own.

you thread your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. you leaned forward to kiss him, sloppily and still salty from his pre-cum. your surrender was sweet on his tongue and he trapped it in his mouth, it belonged to him, anyway.

his thumb continued its path against your clit, spelling his name against you slowly, long and drawn out so you wouldn’t forget.

you were close, desperately so, and your hand slipped down to brace yourself against his chest. you pant into his mouth, sinking and drawing him further inside. he buried his face into your neck, and rocked his hips against you. he felt your throat constrict, your breasts heaving against his chest as he lazily worked his name against your clit with the pad of his thumb, over and over.

you kept making those pretty sounds, clasping your fingers into his hair and holding yourself steady on his broad chest. his orgasm convulsed through him as he moaned, a ripping noise from his mouth that ricocheted through his brain and against the thin skin of your neck. he rocked unthinkingly into you, riding out the rolling tremors that racked his body.

aidan swallowed unevenly, his breath escaping his swollen lips in shaky bursts. his thumb left your swollen clitoris. you whined sweetly in response, trying to rock yourself against his toned naval for any kind of friction. the constricting tightness as you wordlessly begged for more made his hips jolt in over-sensitivity. the feeling dizzied him, striking into the sides of his skull.

he braced himself and stands with your legs wrapped around his waist.

he carried you through the hallway effortlessly and laid you onto the unmade bed with ease.

when he pulled out, you whined and writhed in discomfort, the feeling of anxious excitement pooled somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach. you wanted him, his hungry mouth against you, coaxing you to an undeserving climax with his tongue. not tonight.

he dropped his pants around his ankles and stepped out. from his thighs, he pulled the elastic waistband of his boxers back around his hips snugly and tugged the uncomfortably damp shirt over his head.

aidan watched as he leaked from between your legs, coating your inner thighs. he reached between to gather a bit of it. he brought his two middle fingers up to press past your lips and onto your tongue, watching intently through bleary eyes as you suck him clean.

with a soft groan, he laid down to pull you onto your side and flush against him. he wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin. you leaned forward to press a ghost of a kiss against his neck.

every breath you took sent the thud of your heartbeat thumping through your head.

you could feel the man radiating heat, his eyes fluttered closed tiredly. you listened intently to the rapid thrum of his heart against his chest.

[calamitoustide]

Regulus' Beautiful Boy

Regulus passes softly and peacefully in the middle of the night, like the outpouring tide, and wakes up the next morning in his childhood bedroom.

or

After death Regulus becomes his own imaginary friend and gets to see his beautiful boy again even though he knows he can't save him he tries to give him just a little more love.

[junespriince]

Winged heart au

Dick: why is he in a cage?

Slade: Took you forever to get here, he's in that cage because he bit me.

Wally: And I do it again if you don't address me by my title!

Slade: take him back with you, he is mean!

[fatuismooches]

Sometimes i forgot how tall Capitano is compared to the other playable characters like 😭 i think i'll have a neck problem everytime i have to look at him face to face 💀 (below 5 feet gang where u at ✊😔)

Just imagine Capitano having to crane his neck down whenever he is talking to his s/o who's really short is just so funny to me. To the point that he also have a neck problem too 🙃 so now he just pick up his s/o whenever they are talking or maybe his s/o uses something to elevate themself so that they are eye to eye level.

Also the thought of him getting scolded by his s/o and he is just 🧍‍♂️ while looking down at them 😂 and then there are his subordinates just watching their lord got an earful in the distance 🗿

-🥝

Side note: I really need to contain myself bcs ueueueueueue Capitano the man u really are 😩😭💞🛐🛐🛐 i love u so much why are u so PERFECTAKSBAOSBAKDBWUDB- if i keep typing more, there will be no end of it 😭

(Hello smooches, i hope that u are doing well! I honestly can't wait for ur new Dottore fic omg 😩 just the thought of how Omega trying to become Prime Dottore for reader is just so goooooooooood bcs sure, he can make his facial feature look exactly like real Zandik. But, can he even replicate Zandik's complex feelings towards reader? AKSJAIWKQOAJQSJSBH- I LOVE IT SO MUCH-)

Firstly, i've been 4"9 for YEARS so i understand you 💔. Capitano would need to BEND down for me 😭😭 I've been seeing a bunch of pics of playable characters next to him and they're tiny!! I'm honestly happy with his model! 😭😭 Also, even if you're pretty tall, I think you'd still have to lift your neck a bit for Capitano...

I know Capitano would feel so bad about putting your neck in pain and apologize (even though it's not anyone's fault), however, he can't help but think you look really cute from this view! Especially if you're scolding him about being safe and whatnot, it's hard to take you seriously, but of course he still takes your words to heart because you're his beloved and he cares you!!!! (Also, reader sitting on his shoulder too 🫶 so high up!!) Or reader makes him lay down, so they can be on top or the side of him so it's easier to speak 😅 (I WROTE THE SCOLDING PART BEFORE I READ THE REST OF YOUR ASK- okay great minds think alike 🥝 anon 😤) But yes, the soldiers standing there awkwardly trying to ignore the whole LECTURE you're giving their Harbinger 😣 Actually, i think some of them are happy you give him a peace of your mind because 1. it shows you love him 2. they actually care about him but they can't be direct like you... 3. they're probably part of your fan club

PLS FEEL FREE TO SEND MORE CAPITANO BRAIN ROT 🥝 ANON I ALWAYS LOVE IT <3 I hope you are doing well too! I am very happy you're excited for the new Dottore fic bc i also love the concept of it as well!! Just the idea of him being selfish enough to finally keep you to himself, while simultaneously doing what he thinks will make you happy, the "perfect" lover that Prime could never be.

These looks were different from the ones who gave him all those years ago. You weren’t falling in love with a mere segment of Zandik, you were falling in love with “Zandik” himself.

[midnight-mourning]

Winter's Chill

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 15❄️❄️

Never written a mer fic before, it was a lot of fun! I see why people enjoy the concept so much ^_^ anywho, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: How exciting! I think it would be fun to have mer snuggles to stave off the cold. Maybe yn is a handler in a aquarium and the dca's favorite human, or maybe yn's a mer, or maybe yn lives by the seaside and yn's they're favorite human. Maybe yn and dca can exchange cold weather traditions/favorite things to do. Being coiled in either of their tails just sounds very warm and snuggly : D

Word Count: 1881

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The breeze blows heavily around you, cutting against the skin of your cheeks with the salt it holds. The sand is cold between your toes as you walk across the shore. It's not cold enough for the water to freeze, but it does send a shiver down your spine as it tickles your toes. It wets the bottom of your pants, but you're too distracted to care right this moment, you'll worry about it after you go back inside. 

Staring out into the surf, you don't see any sign of them, but you don't let that worry you. You imagine with the cold weather they're probably holed up in their caves, staying warm. Like you should be doing yourself, but given the sudden turn in the temps you'd thought you'd at least get eyes on them yourself. 

Additionally, you'd been talking excitedly the past few weeks about each other's cultures and traditions when it came to the winter months. 

The very idea of mers was new to you, but that didn't make them any less fascinating to you. Rather, you were incredibly curious both of the two that had stumbled into your life all those months and of their culture. Much like how they were intrigued by you and the human world. 

Recently you'd been comparing how mers celebrated the change in the seasons versus humans. While you gave gifts and spent time with others, mers apparently had large feasts and parties, followed by periods of long hibernation all together. Waking up every so often to do it all over again. 

The idea of not seeing either of the pair for weeks at a time did disappoint you, despite their assurances that they wouldn't be participating like they usually did this year. You weren't going to keep them from their traditions, just like how they wouldn't ask that of you. 

Still, you'd been hoping to see them at least one more time before they're first hibernation. You shift the gifts in your hands, and adjust the basket on your arm as you scan the horizon one last time. Nothing but brown-grey sea and sky stares back at you. 

With a sigh, you turn around and head back to shore, the wood of your dock damp and cold under your feet. 

About halfway back, you hear a whistle off to your right. 

Twisting, you see a yellow, finned head poking out of the water, around where the shore turns. It peeks out further, revealing a grin of sharp teeth. You return the smile in earnest

Sun chirps, waving at you quickly. 

You shift your presents to one hand and raise your now free one to wave back. 

He makes a beckoning motion and you send back a thumbs up, understanding. He tilts his head a moment, then does the same. 

Doing your best to not slip, you hurry back down the dock and across the beach, rounding the edge where the cliffs start to grow large and rocky. A bit more traveling and you make it down to the stretch where the cave your mer friends call home is. And after a bit more maneuvering and the likes, you head inside. 

When you get there, you see Moon lazily resting on a rock that's partly in the water. He waves a clawed hand to you before resting it back on his stomach, eyes closing. Soon enough, Sun bursts up in the middle of the water, sending waves throughout the pool and disturbing the other mer. 

"Hello friend!" Sun exclaims swimming over to the edge where you stand. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too, Sunny. I was worried I missed you guys."

Moon tsks. "We told you we won't be hibernating this year. Just,"—he yawns—"'Sleeping in' later, as you call it."

"And I told you, that you don't need to change your routine for me. Which is why we're going to have some fun now, and then you’re free to sleep contently for as long as you like." You start setting things down on a rock, scanning for a good location to set up. 

They both watch you intently, seeming incredibly curious as to what you're up to. 

Sun catches on quick. "Oh! Is this that holiday you told us about? Chr-Chrislist?"

"I think it's pronounced 'Christmouse'." Moon quips. 

You laugh, pulling out your picnic blanket and setting it down on the relatively decently sized flat spot near the backside of the cave but still on the water's edge. "Christmas, guys. And yes, that's exactly what we're doing."

Among the things in your basket is a large thermos of hot chocolate, several large raw fish, a few sandwiches and a bag of chips for you—though if they get their hands on it they may fight over it—and a multitude of blankets. 

While again, you knew worrying about them was unnecessary, you figured that any extra help they could have would be good.

Once you're all set up, you turn around, clapping your hands excitedly. "Alright, let's get started—hey!"

Both mers look up from picking at their presents. Then, before you can protest, break out in feral grins hands slinking forward to snatch the gifts up entirely. 

"Don't you dare." You warn. "We're eating, then we'll open presents."

The two share a look, and before you know it, your feet are flying across the smooth rock to try and stop them. Right as they snatch up the gifts and swim back is when you reach the water's edge. But, you'd miscalculated the distance and realize you're running straight into the water. You try to course correct and stop, but it's too late. You slip and fall into the water. 

It's not as cold as the ocean outside. In fact, it's significantly warmer. But still, it's quite a shock to you. You're pulled to the surface by two pairs of strong arms. You gasp when you do, taking a few deep breaths. Taking a moment you realize the air is filled with worried chirps and clips and you have to fight a moment to get them to let you go and strop fretting. 

"I'm okay, I'm okay. It just shocked me is all." You say, laughing slightly. 

They're both pouting as you shoo them away, taking a moment to bob in the water and collect your thoughts. 

After another moment or so, you move back to the shore, pulling yourself out and sitting on the edge, feet still in the water. 

You shake your head, water going everywhere. With a sigh, you start wringing out your clothes. At least they were excited about their presents. 

"We're sorry, Sunshine..." Sun's head is hung low, fiddling with his hands as he just barely peeks out of the water. 

Moon's gone over to his corner to sulk himself. They're downturned attitudes make you chuckle, which perks them up slightly. 

Water pours from your jacket as you twist it tight. "It's okay. Not your fault I'm a klutz. Completely on me."

You're lucky you didn't have anything valuable in your pockets, this would be much worse if that was the case. You make the call to remove your shirt, not able to stand the half damp feeling more than you have to. 

You don't notice the wide eyed stares they both have as you stand up and walk over to fling your clothes over a rock, hoping they'll dry quick but doubtful of such. You remove your pants as well and turn back around again. 

"Well, you guys can go ahead and open them I guess..." You trail off, noticing how they're both just staring at you. "What—oh come on! It's the same as a swimsuit, don't make this weird for me." You skin burns and now you're avoiding direct eye contact. 

You go over and snatch up one of your blankets wrapping it around you. 

"There! Is that better?" You shiver then, the cold finally starting to seep in after the initial surprise and embarrassment have worn off. 

At this, they go high alert. You sit down on the blanket, grabbing one of your sandwiches and taking a bite. "Unbelievable, acting like I'm a Victorian woman showing ankle, nothing you haven't seen before."

There's a splash and you look up, seeing them both hovering above you now. Sometimes you forget how big they are since you're usually looking down at them, instead. 

"Go on, I caught that fresh yesterday morning." You nod to the pile of fish. 

They don't move, and you frown, slowly taking another bite of your sandwich. Another chill runs through you and you use your free hand to bring the blanket closer to your body. 

"You're cold." Moon states. 

You reach for your chips. "A little, I'll live."

Sun's hand wraps around your wrist. "You're freezing, Starlight. You land folk have terrible heat regulation." A cheeky smile appears on his face, eyes narrow. "And that simply won't do."

You make a grabby hand for your chips. You open your mouth to say something, but you're suddenly picked up in a flurry of blue and yellow. 

The first thing you notice is that you go from feeling mildly cold too much, much warmer. The second you notice is a, slightly intense, feeling of being squeezed. 

"Too tight." You managed to get out. 

There's a slight shift and you can breathe again. You find that both Sun and Moon have wrapped themselves around you, resulting in essentially a cuddle puddle of their tails and arms around you. And you will admit, it's actually quite cozy.

The parts of your skin not covered by your blanket or underwear are met with smooth scales that generate a rather large amount of heat. And if you weren't still very hungry, you'd probably have fallen asleep. 

"This is lovely, but can I have use of my arms please?" You ask after a minute or two. 

Sun's shakes his head against your neck, where it's buried. For good measure, he kisses the spot once, twice and snuggles closer. 

Moon's words vibrate against the top of your head, where his chin rests. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait."

"But I'm hungry." You whine. "Arguably, I'm more hungry than I am cold. Besides, there's a big herring in that pile of fish that'll surely go to waste if you don’t—"

"Mine!" Sun hisses, quickly shifting to snatch it up. 

You laugh as Moon growls at his actions, starting to argue over it with the sunny mer. You take the opportunity to reach back and grab your abandoned food, sitting contently as they fight over their food. You think that's fair pay back after your little mishap earlier. 

No matter what though, they keep their tails tangled around you, keeping you cozy and warm as they dig in to their own meals. Almost like a fishy weighted blanket. An odd concept, but a welcome one.

This certainly wasn't how you were expecting this day to go, but you'll have no complaints if this is how you stay for the next several hours. 

Given how wet your clothes were, and how intent your two mers are at keeping you close, you think it'll be at least that long before you go anywhere. 

And that's just fine.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you for the lovely request @rosescarletful!! This was super fun to write and I agree, it DOES sound super warm and snuggly, hope I captured the feeling properly :)

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

[electric-plants]

listen sometimes i just think that when cyno heard alhaitham was going to be acting grand sage he immediately started begging and pleading to be able to go and personally rub it in azar’s face

[oh-snapperss]

and yet they play the game

summary:

In the aftermath of Wifies' death, Parrot tries to write a letter to Wifies to cope -- but between his own mind, a looping moment, and the unreliable narrator in himself, he's not getting much of anywhere yet.

or, a study into grief, denial, and what unstable universe really is.

warning: this fic contains elements of unreality and an unreliable narrator! please read with caution<3

Words: 3,545

read on ao3

---------------------------------------------------------

And yet they play the game.

—

Wifies,

—

Smoke drifts up from the chimney in the distance. To any stranger, the appearance of such a homely cottage in the distance could be a beacon of hope. For Parrot, it’s a bitter reminder.

—

Wifies,

I wish–

—

One million blocks away from the spawnpoint of a world, a cottage rests, half-buried in snow that rises in drifts that could easily sink a player without wings. Arching around the house, a spruce forest groans under the weight of snow on its branches, but no sun peeks out to offer relief – instead, flakes fall thickly, obscuring the view of anything past that forest. The snow offers an eerie silence to the entire area – almost as if it were a moment stolen from time, perhaps created by the brushstrokes of an artist never meant to be anything more than memory.

And then that silence breaks. A rocket flies, then a second, then a third – three figures land in the snow by the cottage, snow up to their thighs in an instant. No words are heard over the choking of the silence of the snow, but only one figure is truly visible, anyway.

One wears armor trimmed with diamonds that sparkle brighter than the snow around them. One wears armor with no trim at all, with nothing to indicate who they might be. And one player wears no armor at all.

But only one of them is truly visible. His purple jacket matches the netherite sets beside him, a cloak thrown over half his body. Something is said to both the other players, before just two more noises cross the barrier. A door opening, and two rockets.

Two players are out of sight, and one is inside. The round hasn’t begun, but the pieces are laid out, and their sacrifice is in place.

—

But it would be so easy to tell them...

Too strong for this dream. To tell them how to live is to prevent them living.

—

Wifies,

I wish you had told me what game we were playing. Because you knew, didn’t you? This whole world, this whole place we built up was always a game. I think I knew that, but I didn’t figure out what game we were playing ư̴̲̲͔̼̈̈́̀n̵͎̖̠͔̥͍̋͊̽t̵̢̳̜̜͙̙̅́i̴̱̦͋͋̊̉̐̚̕͝l̶͚̅͆̀͑̔̈́̚͠ ̸̻̻͇͓͋͋̓̍̇̅y̵͓̥͔͚͉̐̋̈́͑̉̕ȍ̶̢̨͇͔̞̖̤͖̾͌̋̋̍̓̕u̸͖̻̯̦͕̘͆̽͐̏͘̕ ̸͈̩̦̭̩̀̔̓̀̎͛̚͘͜ḑ̵̗͂ë̴̙̥̤͖̻̳̼̌͐̆̍̓͠ć̴̲̮̜̜̗̉̑͘͠į̸͙̜͈͉̽̀͑ḑ̴͙̞̮̮͕̐̐̏̽̂̏͜͝ĕ̵̥̮̘̬̩̥͂̐̌̓͑̓͘ḓ̶͕͓̔ͅ ̵̬̪͖̱̗̀́̈́̿̆̋̚t̷̜̐͌̀̓͠ò̶̳̬̖̼̠̽̑̅. I wanted to save the world, b̵͉͚̟̟̽̃̊̔̇̊ũ̶̫̭͎̣̙̱̈̌ͅͅţ̶̡̳̠̰̥̬͎͗̇̎͑ ̷̨̘͇͍͈͇̹̋̓̄͘ͅỳ̷̧̫̇̋o̵̙̻̺͚͉̫͍͈̊u̷̡͔̓̉̀͒̈͊ ̷̭͊̽͠d̷͈̖̞͓̰͇͒͒̊̕ḝ̵̹̙̟̼̻̱̠̃̈́̃̊̏̒͘ç̵̩̼̼͕͇̯̬̈̑̈̓̈i̸͎̩̜̋̿̀̚͜d̴̩͈̰̱̳̼̤͐̀̈́͑͝e̵̗̿͝͝d̷̘̤̭͙̬̝̦̩͂̒̓͒ ̴̡͕͙̖̱̱̫̗̈́͝t̴̪̖͎̣͎̀̃͗̒͑õ̵̡͕͔̩͖̯̌̑͐͂

—

A million blocks of travel really shouldn’t be a standard of normal here. Parrot’s wings ache against the wind, hours of traveling wreaking havoc on his muscles. Once all this is over, Parrot could really use a good preening, and maybe several weeks of a nap. Every muscle spasms, every feather feeling as if it might rip out of his body if he keeps pushing himself to run like this. It’s all he’s done the last month or so. Run, fly, run, fly. If Parrot ever bothered to check, he’d probably find blood trails from feathers that ripped out too soon and never had the chance to heal over since.

Shit, and it’s freezing. Because when he and Wifies built this, comfort hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of their minds. Or maybe it had been for Wifies. It just hadn’t been for Parrot, yet. Truly, the only consideration that Parrot put into choosing where they built their cottage had been the distance and a brief thought that maybe the snow would keep them hidden. Now, he curses himself for the spot. His clothes and wings are soaked and it’s miserable to feel the fabric turning to ice against his skin.

  He’d left the others for this – all to wind up in a snowstorm so thick his only indicator he’s where he wants to be is the coordinates on his communicator, telling him that if he drops down, there should be a cottage just a hundred or so blocks away.

—

Wifies,

I hate you so much for this, bro. We could’ve both run and been fine. Or you could’ve done something. We’re supposed to be figuring out these puzzles together, and you’re too busy being–

I don’t understand why you didn’t just drink milk, bro. I could’ve fought them if I’d known they were gonna–

This is stupid.

—

One million-point-two blocks away from spawn, snow drifts down from the sky in a peaceful, sleepy stupor. There is no cottage, there are no players, and there is no disturbance against the laws of nature in that land.

—

Wifies, I–

—

There is a cottage, set against the mountains. There’s a player waiting inside.

—

Wifies,

I don’t understand why you chose to do it like that.

—

Parrot lands in the snow with a wince, shivering. Since he’s not flying, it feels much less of a blizzard as compared to the same comforting space he fled before. If not for the sign still in front of the door, he could almost believe that in another world this was his life, living in a cabin on what should be the edge of the world. And Wifies would be there, with a blissfully peaceful expression and no deep bags under his eyes. Parrot indulges himself in thinking of that life as he trudges inside the cabin, relaxing against his will as the warmth of the hearth greets him.

Maybe in that life, the Mafia’s defeated, Ashswag’s cloak half burned and hung on a stick outside as their scarecrow for the farm they’d start. A strange fantasy, but Parrot would love nothing more than a trophy of his victory hung outside the home he could have with Wifies.

—

I will not tell the player how to live.

The player is growing restless.

—

Wifies,

I never got my revenge how I thought it would be. I’m still looking for it, I guess. You got your revenge through me already.

And you’re still gone.

Couldn’t you just have drunk milk?

—

A floorboard creaks behind Parrot – a footstep falling around the corner of the cottage. Parrot’s head snaps up, readying his weapons already by habit. Spinning around, he rushes to see–

There’s an invisible player in his cottage, no trims in sight.

Parrot’s heart stutters, everything dull and aching exploding into bright stars of pain-hope-want.

“Wifies?”

—

Wifies,

I lit the beacons like you said. You told me to do that. I think. I wanted you to stay and you still left me, but I guess a dream was never going to end how I wanted. Was that really you? I’ve never had a more vivid dream in my life, bro. But I swear, I could feel the wind whipping at my face, and you were just standing right there while you smiled and told me goodbye.

And I didn’t even tell you goodbye in the dream.

Because you’re not dead, right?

All those beacons are still lit, bringing the mafia players home. When are you c̷̢̗͙͓̟̟̼̳̞͐̒̐̎̐̆̎̍̓̒̍̓́̚͘o̷̾͛͜m̴̢̨̯͙̪̘̬̙͚̼͚̰̏ĭ̸̯̋͗̓͝ņ̶͎͆͆͗ģ̷̛͍̤̞̪͔͖͉͍̫̪̀͆͌̀̂̅̐ ̶̛͖̝͖̹̺̳̻̥̝̹̇̇́͠ͅb̸̫̠̥̲͎̥͈̩̩̗̖͉̐͗̀̓̆̊̓͜ͅa̵͙̜͖͑c̶͚̺̖͉̰̙̲̠̦̣̠̓̂̌́̐̆k̷͙̜̤͉̥̯̋͆͊͜͜?̸̨͓̖̗̯̳͓̖͕̫̓̆͋̾͆̔͆́̐̍̊͘͝

—

The cottage is as empty as when Parrot watched Wifies walk outside to greet Ash before. No creaking floorboards alert him to another presence. This is a bust. And yet, and yet, and yet, Parrot can’t bring himself to close the chest he’s rifling through to check behind him.

If Parrot turns around, Wifies will die. This is a truth Parrot knows for certain, engraved in his lungs and mind like it’s a line of the End Poem sandwiched between the raw code of the universe speaking to the player.

If Parrot turns around, Wifies will die.

In Parrot’s eye, the chest grows in size, a gaping maw, and he’s swallowed whole by it. He doesn’t see what’s behind him, for once.

—

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

—

Wifies.

I’m starting to run out of paper here, gonna be honest. I don’t know why I can’t just wrap this up and be done with it, because there’s a new fight out there and I gotta get going. But I just can’t.

All those times, you helped me out of puzzles and fights and ideas, and you always knew that it was all just one big overarching game.

Whose side were you even on? I can’t tell anymore. You played everything so well, and at the end I just–

—

The player cocks their head to the right, studying Parrot like a plaque with everything bared on display. Parrot can’t help the way his wings bristle, nor can he help his own head tilting to study back. There’s nothing to study, that's the problem. The player is as formless as Dean before his death, just another member of the Mafia that Parrot could kill to take even the slightest form of a victory.

But this could be Wifies. A prickle of shame runs over Parrot – for all the months they’d spent together, shouldn’t he be able to find something to tell him if this is his Wifies or not? Why couldn’t he differentiate Dean? What if this is Wifies?

“We’re – can’t you just say something? Drink milk, anything?” Parrot sheathes his sword, taking a step towards the invisible player. His hands are shaking, too unsteady to do much of anything. Why wasn’t Wifies moving? “We’re almost done, bro. I–We found the stasis chambers, all of it, everything, we’re about to win and you’re just–”

—

I thought that if I saved the world, you’d be saved too. I didn’t think that you weren’t trying to be saved.

—

The fire crackles behind them, the couch with it’s pillows all too inviting. Parrot wants to drag Wifies – if this was Wifies – over to the couch to settle and just rest. Their shared bed is still unmade from the one night they spent here, something Parrot wants to redo.

He’d slept facing the wall. Wifies had slept facing him, breath barely ghosting over the back of his neck, arms rigid and stubbornly not touching Parrot. It didn’t take a genius to know that neither were satisfied with the arrangement, but neither were going to make the move to change that. Wifies wouldn’t push for something he wanted, and for once, Parrot wouldn’t demand either.

“Dude, what are you doing? Drink milk or message me or something!” Parrot bursts out again. “This isn’t fair, this isn’t what we agreed on!”

The player stands, silent as ever.

—

You should have just run away with me or something or listened to me or–

You could have done something.

—

Maybe this just isn’t his Wifies. The realization crashes over Parrot as a wave of exhaustion. A million blocks of travel, and this was what he got for it – a stranger listening to him beg for someone who wasn’t even in the area. Parrot feels his knees buckle, his wings sag at last from the overwork. The world feels blurred, unreal as the rest of everything they went through together. What is he even thinking, bro? He nearly collapses right there, before–

Armor clinks together, invisible hands are at his face, cradling him. Through the fresh tears of his confused and overexhausted mind, Parrot sees nothing in front of him but the helmet of the invisible player.

“What are you–” Parrot croaks out, but their hand lands over his mouth to shut him up, holding for a moment before moving to tuck back his hair, wipe the tears off his cheeks. Breath exhales over Parrot’s mouth, something so intimate in the gesture Parrot feels dizzy with it.

And those hands are cradling him as gently as the wind is meant to hold his wings up, as warm and comforting as the hearth, as familiar as the jungle trees Parrot grew up with. They’re home, and they’ve never even touched Parrot before now, except in fleeting moments to heal and help.

This is Wifies.

—

Did you know you were dooming yourself? Did you know they were watching? Why did you do that?

—

I will tell the player a story.

But not the truth.

—

The player stands before him, silent and unflinching at Parrot’s breakdown. No step is taken forward, nothing at all to stop Parrot from turning on his heel and stumbling back outside, desperate begging falling from his lips. Drink milk. Message me. Do something. Anything. Who are you?

Plans, secrets, it all spills out of Parrot’s mouth in the snow. The storm is thicker again, flakes melting off the other player and sticking to Parrot’s wings. He shouldn’t be telling the player all of this – he shouldn’t be this pathetic, without proof that this player wouldn’t use it against him. Still, they just stand, waiting, watching.

“You promised me,” Parrot manages at last, immediately ashamed of the way his voice shakes unsteadily. “You promised me you wouldn’t be like them.”

Was it fair to assign Wifies’ promise to a player that might not even be him? Parrot can’t bring himself to bother caring. Wifies promised, and Wifies isn’t here. Whatever is in front of him, that can’t be Wifies, and–

Sure enough, laughter breaks out over the wind, cruel. Parrot cranes his head up to the roof of the cottage, and finds the blank eyes of Ashswag watching the scene.

—

Okay, so it was a game. And you lost. But I don’t understand why you played to lose. Every time we got anything done, it was at your cost and your loss and I didn’t even notice, because I was too busy winning. I thought we were on the same side, but instead you were a step ahead of me to lose.

Do you remember that chess game with Spoke? We forced a stalemate with each other that day. I never realized that we weren’t really done and you were still playing to lose.

You’re such an idiot.

—

And the universe said-

—

There’s a cottage one million blocks away from spawn, and it burns.

—

Wifies,

Please.

—

The cottage remains intact, a place of refuge. Parrot’s final refuge. Or, depending on how it was looked at, his final prison. He lands in the snow, he breaks the sign, he opens the door to check the chests, he turns and–

—

Wifies,

I don’t hate you I just wish you fucking told me that–

—

Ash laughs overhead, behind him, around him, is the player, is somewhere else, the laugh emanates from Parrot himself, a neverending cycle.

—

I don’t need you, but I still want you here and–

—

The invisible player greets Parrot this time, slipping their hand into Parrot’s as naturally as every other time Wifies hadn’t done that. Parrot frowns, still gripping back as tightly as his talons will allow without hurting Wifies. His head aches strangely, dull behind his eyes.

“Wifies?”

This time around, Wifies speaks back.

“Did you get everything you needed?”

“What?” Parrot rubs at his eyes, trying to soothe the ache away. It spreads instead, throbbing across his whole head. Something isn’t right here. “Yeah, I got you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

—

…

—

For once, Parrot doesn’t find himself landing in snow a million blocks away from spawn. Actually, he’s at spawn, in the strange little base he’d built right at the start. The air feels warm, just barely over the point of the summer humidity feeling like too much, and at a glance Parrot can tell the sun is just past setting. Around the base, no war wages on, no sign of any deaths or invisible players or Wemmbu or Spoke just around the corner to terrorize him or beg him for help.

Parrot knows, will sinking like a stone, that this isn’t real any further than half the places he’s been the last week. This place was destroyed by the Mafia, and hadn’t been home for months before that thanks to all the running around he and Wifies had done. This is just yet another place his mind conjured up, and it’s up to Parrot to let the fantasy play out before he wakes again.

Wifies.

As Parrot expected, he’s standing just a few feet away, sorting through a couple shulker boxes. This Wifies is young, unscarred that Parrot can see. His purple headband isn’t doubling as a bandage, there’s no blood dried on his clothing. Both his eyes are clear, crinkled up by the tiniest of upturned lips. Wifies is happy, this evening, satisfied with himself about something.

And it doesn’t take a genius to work this out, what day has chosen to replay itself for Parrot to regret. Which is good, because between the two of them, Parrot wasn’t the genius.

“Wifies?” Parrot expects his voice to scratch uncomfortably at his throat, since that’s all it’s done lately, but instead it sounds clear and proud. Easy to speak.

“Hm? What’s up, Parrot?” Wifies hardly even glances up, still engrossed in his shulkers. “Do we need to get going, or do you think we can spend the night here?”

“We can spend the night, dude.” Fondness leaks into Parrot’s voice, in spite of himself. “I was just gonna tell you that I wouldn’t have been able to finish those Spoke puzzles without you. So. Thanks for that.”

“Duh,” Wifies snarks right back, before his eyes crinkle a little further. It’s odd – it almost seems like the smile Wifies wore wasn’t an often occurrence. Parrot should have asked about it, every time he noticed. He hadn’t.

Because he hadn’t noticed until it was nothing but memory.

“No problem. It was fun to help out.” Wifies shrugs, sending away Parrot’s thoughts. “Thanks for getting me out of the chunkban.”

“Yeah, of course,” Parrot chuckles. It’s like watching his body on autopilot, something Parrot can’t control himself. Why won’t he say something else? Do something else? This moment replayed, Parrot can see the twitch of Wifies’ hands to reach forward, the way his entire body is angled in such a way to receive something from Parrot if it were offered.

Why didn’t he offer?

The moment passes, instead. And another, and another, peace between them falling like a blanket settled over a sleeping body. By the time darkness is over the world, the moon rising to illuminate the two of them, Parrot can hardly fight the stupor over his body, the want to just rest and enjoy his moment with Wifies.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream this time.

So he doesn’t say anything, and he watches Wifies finish his task before heading to sleep. Even when Wifies is long gone, and nothing but an impression where he should have been in the bed, Parrot can’t bring himself to accept what’s coming. Not until the snowstorm starts, the cottage reappearing for Parrot to trudge to. Inside, he knows the process. Open the chest, turn around, invisible player. Outside, the same routine. Ashswag, the diamond player, his ego. A shaking head, defiance barely defined as such. Parrot wants to move, or do something different, but he stands frozen for the final moment.

Snow drifts around them all, and Ashswag’s fury rings out into the night, a rod is pulled, and–

—

Wifies fell out of the world.

Checkmate.

—

Parrot screams, a strangled, horrible noise that threatens to choke him right at his desk. Papers and books lay strewn about him, crumpled up things that never quite made it to the fire that still hasn’t burnt out since being lit that one night they spent before the Mafia. He’d not even fallen asleep at the bed, just stuck stitching together letter after letter that turns into nothing.

Parrot’s still stuck at the cottage, and Wifies lost the game.

And Wifies never made a move quite how Parrot dreams about now.

—

And the game was over and the player woke up from the dream. And the player began a new dream. And the player dreamed again, dreamed better. And the player was the universe. And the player was love. .

—

Lava cascades down a glass wall, protecting Parrot from any inquiring eyes. His room is as put together as professionally as he could possibly imagine – multiple floors, a bed that feels empty whether he sleeps in it or not, an in-apartment postage system that keeps him in contact with every other room. It’s classy, not over decorated, sheer white all around him.

And nothing about it compares to the cottage. Parrot’s not sure if that’s the best or worst of his new living situation. The mattress is stiff from disuse, brand new. Everything is brand new. Parrot can stare at himself in the mirror for hours and still feel as if he’s the thing out of place in a base so pristine.

There’s plenty of things Parrot can do to distinguish himself as out of place. His wings are left unpreened, his spyglass has a crack in the middle of the glass that isn’t matched by anything in the apartment. The people all around him seem to trust each other, a laughable, pitiable mistake in Parrot’s eyes. Worst of all, they want him to trust them, and Parrot’s not about to let his guard down again.

It’s not the cottage.

Because Wifies is dead, Parrot turned around, and no hands ever cradled him to let him know before it was too late.

—

Wake up.

—

The truth about chess, is the game never ends so long as an opponent is willing to outplay the other. And Parrot’s last opponent threw the game away, while Parrot let it happen.

It’s time to start the game over.

[catherine-sketches]

I’m on a Once Upon A Time resurgence and MY GOD did they underutilize Archie

Man is the only therapist in town, only adult male figure in Henry’s life for a good chunk of his formative years! Potential father figure? Waisted after season 1

He was raised a thief! Any bonding with Emma over shared criminal past and trying to be better now? Waisted

Dramatic scenes where everything seems lost only to everyone to find out he sly-of-hand got the McGuffey from the bad guy that underestimated the cricket? Waisted

Any funny scenes where he pickpockets Killian as a retribution for being kidnapped? Waisted

The moral complexity of being raised to steal and lie and having old habits dying hard or even having to go back on these habits to save the tiny boy you see as good as your son (maybe a scene where they have to break into some place and Archie know how to pick a lock) and being very concerned on how EASY it was to do it. Natural even.

Was this explored? No

Did he know other thieves? A potential friendship with Will Scarlet? Waisted

Mulan had a Cricket friend. Since OUAT loves to mix and match where YOU, Jiminy Cricket, her companion in the years Geppetto was a grown man that didn’t need you as much only to go back when the war was over and Geppetto was thinking about a son? WHO KNOWS! CERTAINLY NOT ME

You also are not only Jiminy Cricket! The sheet music in your office, the instruments there (a clarinet and a violin if I can remember correctly) and your dog, Pongo, mark you as Roger Radcliffe

Where is your Anitta? Where is your romance storyline promised to you from day one the moment we heard your dog’s name? Where is Perdita?

Where is your interaction with Cruella DeVil?

The moment these two were in the same ESTATE Archie should get a fifty yard stare like he can sense a disturbance in the force

Did we get that???? NO!

Justice for my man Archie Hopper they waisted you

[aurantiumred]

the overlap between the dc and pjo fandoms is. a concerning amount. ill be looking at tt and scrolling though, find a dc tt, turns out 3 of the percy jackson accs i follow reblogged it. is this a canon event. do all of us go through a dc phase. i got hit in the face with the brick that is jason todd lore by @whosthatredguy via infodump one day and the next im scrolling through a sketchy website for comic #408 for jason's first appearance. and like. I'm still annotating the lost hero. wrong jason, thought my hyperfixation was on jason grace, not like. the definition of parental issues. not the definition of "role two, the scapegoat" cmon man

AND THEN THERES A GYMNAST! AND I IMMEDIATELY GO "mmm pretty, mmm cool moves" AND I PERISH INSTANTLY AT THE THOUGHT OF THEM BECAUSE THEY'RE SO FUCKING COOL???

LITTLE ASSASSIN VICTORIAN BOY? YES PLEASE!!! I LOVE HEARING ABOUT THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND! I NEED TO READ EVERY COMIC PLEASE SOMEONE GIVE ME A DAMN WEBSITE THAT DOESN'T ATTEMPT TO FLASH ME WITH NAKED WOMEN WHEN I FLIP THE PAGE TO READ THE COMICS ON IM BEGGING YOU

GIVE ME A SITE I DONT NEED A VPN TO EVEN THINK ABOUT PLEAASSSEE

theres also representation in already established characters and a bisexual man who frequently takes naps in impossible places. i would kill to say hi to any of them. theres so many comics and i do not trust myself to write about a character before i know everything about them so im probably gonna go and watch every single show related to batman and then die in a corner.

anyway this devolved from "why are these fandoms linked" to "angry rant about the cities i would burn to hug nightwing" really fast actually.