#but every time he thinks about an alternate option for his life he thinks it sounds way worse than being a jedi

[antianakin]

The ONLY TIME I could genuinely see Anakin becoming a Crechemaster by choice and actually enjoying it is in an AU where he's found by the Jedi as a baby and raised among them from the beginning and then remains a Jedi and it's a happy fix-it AU somehow and Palpatine dies and either there's no war or the Republic wins the war and Anakin's had like 2-3 Padawans or something already, he's been on the Council for like ten years, he's a little older now, like 50 or 60 years old perhaps, he's ready to move away from responsibilities like the Council or taking on an apprentice of his own, so he decides to settle down into being a Crechemaster, teaching up the newer generation of Jedi, occasionally wandering off on shorter missions if he feels like it or traveling places when he gets the urge since he knows there's plenty of other Crechemasters who are looking after the kids as part of the Jedi's communal system and his absence won't mean a bunch of younglings are suddenly left without supervision or caretaking. It's a nice retirement after several decades as a Knight where he was constantly away from the Temple doing other work or focusing a lot on raising one apprentice or being a part of the Council.

[callmearcturus]

That's the thing, he's in a complete catch-22. He is not allowed to win.

I used to be joking when I said Ted needed to renegotiate his custody agreement, but now I think the Golden Ending for him requires it.

And I feel some kinda way about.... this expectation that someone who is a parent is required to sacrifice every other aspect of themselves for their child. I was raised by a single mother and my grandmother. There were times in my life when my grandmother was essentially my full-time parent to allow my mother to move to another town and work more so she could get out of some debt. I missed her, but understood. And, pertinently, when she had done some work and got settled, I moved down with her.

I think there is something extremely heteronormative and disturbing about the idea that if you have a child, they always take total precedence over you. That ambition and the need to better yourself is not allowed.

There has to be a middle option between parental neglect and the expectation that you must sacrifice your entire self to be a parent.

(And I don't think I'm smart enough to articulate it actually but there's also something patriarchal about the idea that your entire life MUST be devoted to a child once you have one, especially since single motherhood is dramatically more common than the alternative.)

i'm gonna get back to fic-writing. may we all be saved from heteronormativity and cisnormativity.

[ashtxrie]

submitted 11:59 pm

— alternatively, enhypen maknaes as your typical high school crush!

PAIR. high school! enhypen maknaes x gn!reader (rest under cut) GENRE. fluff, high school au, bullet points WORD COUNT. 1.8k total HYUNG LINE VER.

김선우 — kim sunoo

candy hearts, spotify playlists, good morning texts, easy laughter, crescent smiles

in high school, sunoo's known as being super friendly and sociable

and because of that, he has a ton of friends

like he basically knows everyone

you and sunoo have definitely talked before, and you may have had a teensy tiny crush on him from your... downward of five interactions

he's kind of like your hallway crush!

however, you DON'T know that he has had a crush on you for FOREVER

like a MASSIVE one! SINCE MIDDLE SCHOOL

and his friends are SICK AND TIRED of hearing about it

man's dedicated because he really saw you in every single one of your phases and STILL decides to like you. he's a real one

he's so whipped like he's hitting up the group chat (named "en- gang" by riki btw) at 1 in the morning being like

"GUESS WHAT?!!! she smiled at me today ☺️ i forgot to tell you all"

everyone is so done

"did you talk to her though"

"NO. i'm getting there"

"all you did was make eye contact for the past month be srs rn"

so one day jay and jungwon (your mutual friends), who were in the same english class as you both, were feeling DEVIOUS

it was the fall semester final project, and it was supposed to be worked on in teams of 2 to 3

"bro you are NOT working on it with us the love of your life is literally RIGHT there"

jay and jungwon took matters into their own hands and forcefully excluded sunoo ("you guys are so fake")

so now, with no other option, he had to approach you!

"do you have a group already? if not, we could work together?"

wait wtf he didn't say that

hey....

it was YOU???

you approached him first??? he was SHOCKED

tried to play it cool but his smile gave away how happy he was

"yes!!!! let's work together!!!!! :)"

the project actually went so well he has literally never been happier typing away on that document every night

updates the group chat periodically too

"when we were working on the google doc at 2 am in the morning our cursors went over each other’s & it was like we were holding hands :>>"

"how do i unsubscribe"

"you're just mad because you've never been in love <333"

secretly sunoo's thanking his friends though because now you guys are basically close friends!

while doing the project together you started talking about school, friends, life, and everything in between

talking with you just seemed so natural, and sunoo wonders why he was so afraid of it before

i'd like to think that with you, sunoo doesn't feel the need to always put on the bubbly and outgoing side of him

sometimes, he can just be quiet and calm sunoo with you, and the silence feels so comfortable and safe

you start hanging out more and more, and soon you've met so many people through sunoo that they think of you whenever they think of him too

it's like a package deal!

throughout this time he's still madly in love with you btw

he just wants to take things slow! he didn't want to scare you away or anything

and yes, the gc is STILL getting their daily sunooyn Down Bad News Network

"today during lunch she gave me a yakult bottle, i think she’s starting to like me back! :D"

he does Not know you've liked him all this time

the mutual pining is crazy

he (finally) confesses after a whole YEAR

he's super nervous about it, has possible plan b's scripted and sat through 30 minutes of youtube subliminal audios the day before for extra good luck

after he says his whole heartfelt confession, he gives you this handwritten letter with all of his favorite moments with you in the past year, complete with spotify codes next to each one that links to a specific song he thought of at the time

you teared up a bit because oh my gosh it was so cute he was so cute and your heart just melted

you told him you've liked him since forever too and he was FLABBERGASTED

you both also reveal that you've BOTH had hidden spotify playlists dedicated for each other???

let's just say that even years later, the 'en- gang' group chat would NEVER let sunoo live down his digital footprint

양정원 — yang jungwon

strawberries, honors classes, coming of age, familiarity, inside jokes, paper rings

your childhood best friend

who just so happens to also be mr student council president, king of extracurriculars, resident academic powerhouse

and also a LITTLE SHIT about it

since elementary school, you've got some friendly (and not-so-friendly) rivalry going on

"we both know who’s going to get the higher score for this chem final” 

“yeah, and it’s going to be me”

“NAH” 

but the drive you get from the competition is really what brought you guys together

it's what keeps you motivated, it's what keeps you going

and he's funny! (though you'd never admit it)

because yes, you're both trying to beat each other for the top spot in class rank

but you also get each other

you've been study buddies since the beginning of time, and he keeps the two of you accountable

sometimes he's TOO responsible

"jungwon don't let the pomodoro timer dictate you life can we PLEASE take a snack break right nowww"

"we literally did that FIVE MINUTES AGO"

outside of studying he's really chill though

one summer he started to get really into alchemy of souls and you binged the series twice together, effectively destroying both of your sleep schedules right before school started

he just loves existing in the same space as you tbh

definitely loves calling you for hours during the school year, whether to review for an upcoming exam or to just have the two of you do your own things while connected on the phone

it's pretty common for the two of you to fall asleep while on call with one another

late night yapping sessions (hello??? his weverse addiction??)

he feels like he can just let his responsibilities go and you're the only person who really understands him and everything he does and why he does it

lowkey.... he also just wants to make you proud :(

he was so happy that one time you offhandedly mentioned how you've seen and appreciated all the hard work he was putting in for one of the school events

when he eventually confessed to you, everything just made sense

like the way your eyes always lingered on his bright smile when he showed up on your doorstep at the crack of dawn

and how even when you tease each other, you never miss how he would reach for your hand with his own before retracting it hurriedly as if changing his mind

now, oh he just makes you feel so loved

texts you at random times of the day just because, sending you the most random images and captioning them with "us"

he's still got the silliness in him though!

"i want to try every strawberry with chocolate combination with you <333"

西村力 — nishimura riki

neon lights, school dances, sunglasses, finger guns, playful banter, shared hoodies

honestly he's just at school for the vibes

however, he DID take homecoming very seriously

with one goal in mind: to DOMINATE the dance floor

and dominate he did.

he partied in the USA so hard that by the end of the night, everyone was talking about that freshman who left everyone speechless at a HIGH SCHOOL DANCE

among those witnesses of how riki out-danced the entire school population, were you

and you thought he was literally the coolest person ever

fast forward two years, and you're a junior now

it's all good! you've definitely outgrown your month-long admiration of the Guy From Hoco

but yo what guess who sits right next to your seat in class???

it's the Guy From Hoco himself

honestly, you're a pretty chill person so you turned to him and were like "hey aren't you that guy that got famous back during hoco freshman year?"

but now? he’s EMBARRASSED to admit it

"oh uhhh that wasn't me haha"

boy bffr you would know his face anywhere

you kind of gave him a questioning look and shrugged

"oh well, i thought it was really cool though"

he instantly backtracks, because you thought it was cool and NOT an aura loss????

"wait i think i remember now haha that WAS me!!!"

you guys match energy so well tbh

he started to catch feelings for you because of how funny you were and how you two just clicked, but he was stuck in denial FOREVER

"I DON'T CHASE I ATTRACT" (desperate)

heeseung also tried to give him "rizz counseling" but that just ended up with them both saying "mb gang" at everything

which was..... not very rizzy!

you had convinced him to audition for the competition dance team at your school, which he obviously made

he texted you the day he got in too, typing in all caps in everything which he NEVER does

"why would you scream about things in caps lock when you can be cool and nonchalant" YEAH SURE RIKI

updated all his social media bios to @[school]varsitydanceteam the moment he got the acceptance notif

“[name] is my instagram bio tuff”

“WHY ARE U ALR PUTTING IT IN YOUR BIO"

"because i’m committed and it lets them know i’m part of a professional community"

(heeseung told him that it would show his commitment to the sport and thus his potential to commit to you.)

at this point, riki was ready to fire heeseung and switch to jake as his ghostwriter 💀

but little did he know, you started liking him too once you saw how genuinely hardworking he was when he has a goal

like those hours he spent on call with you asking if you thought this one move was clean enough?? he really put in his all (he also wanted to impress you)

you kind of had the idea that he liked you back, because let's be honest he was being a bit obvious about it

the way he almost choked when you hugged him congratulations??? he looked DAZED for a whole hour

you had to confess to riki because his heejake rizz courses consisted mainly of heeseung and jake arguing about whose approach was better

even when you two became a couple, you still had teasing as a love language LMAO

"HAHA 🫵🫵 YOU'RE SO SHORT i still love you though <3"

it's just how he shows his love, but he also loves draping his arm across your shoulders when walking around

made sure to emphasize to heeseung and jake that this was all his doing and they did not help him at ALL

but let's be real, YOU were the rizziest of them all

and riki agrees <3

TAGLIST : @star-sim @boyfiejay @jlheon @jwsdoll @dimplewonie @suneng @en-gelic @mygnolia @asteria-wood

[oh-no-its-bird]

Obkk modern au where where Kakashi and Obito are online friends who have never seen eachothers faces. It's a years long friendship (and mutual silent crush) where they've helped eachother through what was truly the darkest parts of eachothers lives.

But irl they also happen to know eachother from childhood due to having gone to the same schools and shared the same classes, and they fucking DESPISE the other. You can not stick them in a room without someone starting a fight.

When they interact irl, play into specifically the early dynamics of obkk, with kind of superficially happy/dumb Obito and a "follow the rules to the letter" grumpy overachiever Kakashi

But when they're online, play more into the older obkk dynamic.

Where Obito shows that he has a pretty big mean streak/humor and a serious talent for playing dumb; where he overlays his happier side irl for just social reasons.

While Kakashi shows he's actually super lazy and imperfect with most other factors of his life outside of work/school (and ofc downplays his actual work ethic when it comes to work/school, framing himself as doing bare minimum when he should really do more (bc he genuinley believes that)) and has a pretty wicked sense of humor himself, a love of over-romantic, fluffy porn, and a habit of using endless "cute" emotocons

Kk: Did my proposal today, it was so bad... I really slacked off this time on it. I was so nervous they'd tell me no (｡﹏｡")

Kk: I guess the other presentations must have been pretty bad too because they picked mine anyways? I feel so lucky (╥﹏╥)

Ob: it's ok even if you tried your best!! Im proud you were able to do even as much as you did.

Ob: I'm glad you got it, at least one of us won their proposal today. That jackass had a fucking 30 slide detailed slide with 6 DIFFERENT PIE CHARTS and a scheduled water break inbetween. Fucking kissass

Kk: nooo im sorry ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)

Ob: it's whatever. Just glad you got the thing :)

Ob: want me to kill your boss tho.

Kk: lol

Kk: I'll help hide the body ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

And then one day Obito does some sort of very mean prank on Kakashi. And it goes uhh. Badly.

I mean, badly for Kakashi. Obito thinks it went great!

That is till he gets home and finds his best friend for a decade, and crush for even past that decade, texting him about a very specific mean prank that got pulled on them.

Wait. No. Wait. WAIT. FUCK.

So like. Obito is a bit conflicted now. He doesn't know what to really do here??? Like. What if it ruins everything with his best friend??? But also hey best friend why the FUCK are you such a BITCH.

But also also, suddenly Obito is recontextualizing SO many of their interactions— from Kakashi suffering the devistating loss of his father when he was especially annoying, to explanations of why he reacted certain ways. And oh my god Obito is... also a kind of a bitch???

Obito has NO idea what to do and is just swinging so violently back and forth on what are really his only two options.

And sometimes he's like gleefully feeling vindictive bc after arguing with irl Kakashi, online Kakashi is ranting about "that same asshole again" at work, so Obito is like "I KNEW it was getting to u, haha you're NOT better than me after all!!!"

But then later he feels kinda bad about it bc like. Aw wait no he actually might have genuinley hurt the person he loves. And also he doesn't want to lose getting to see the real Kakashi, a mix of both of his masks, by fucking this up and choosing wrong.

Anyways Kakashi finally somehow figures it out on his own, they fight, they make up, they make out.

The end yay happy ending

There's an alternate universe where neither of them every found out about eachother and continued to be friends online and hate eachother to escalating degrees offline. But one day they start to slowly shift in dynamics. Irl they get closer and online they get so much angrier and more distant. Till we've swapped and now online they just have this GIANT fallout but offline they're actually in love now. And this continues till they're about to get married/no longer on speaking terms with eachother. And so on their wedding day they reach out again online but ONLY to hate on eachother like "oooo fuck you I'm so happy rn I just got MARRIED."

"Oh yeah you bitch??? So did I. And my husbands better than anything your ugly ass could ever pull"

"FUCK YOU MY HUSBANDS FUCKING AMAZING AND YOURS IS PROBABLY LOOKS AND ACTS LIKE SHIT"

"OH YEAH????"

"YEAH!!!"

"PROVE IT!"

And then they very sharply turn and take simultaneous photos of eachothers furious faces and then angrily, instinctivley press send.

And then they stop. And then they have a moment of dead silence.

And then they begin to have an actual, physical fist fight in front of the uncut wedding cake with ALL of their friends and families watching. And the photographers with their very ready cameras.

There was a lot of cake.

Yeah that was ah uhh. Interesting

The good news at least is now they have a photo of them fist fighting like they want to kill eachother while covered in wedding cake in a frame that says "happy marriage <3" on it, and they like to joke about it (to many, many peoples horror)

The end yay happy ending x2

If I were to write this fr I think I'd legally have to write both versions bc both are excellent

[applestorms]

thinking about how near refers to light at the end of the series— not really as light yagami, not even really as kira, and not quite as L, but rather an amalgamation of titles: L-KIRA, a twisted mix of two personas, masks on top of masks. no longer a person but a series of letters, a filtered voice through a screen. a man who has built his entire life in the space between lies, who cannot let himself stop for a second without the weight of his own guilt, his sins, crushing him. regrets repressed because this is the only way it could ever be, it has to be worth it, it has to, it has to, because you can’t even bring yourself to consider what it all means otherwise.

i am a firm believer that light yagami, the son, the student, the average human person, dies at the same time that L does. at least at the beginning of the series he has some semblance of normalcy to hold himself to, the Serious Student persona that keeps him walking to and from school and talking to people and eating dinner with his family at home. how many times do we really see him going outside, post-L death? how often do we see him outside of some L-based police HQ, talking to people he isn’t trying to manipulate? really, it’s no wonder he falls so far, alienated as he is from the rest of humanity. when was the last time he breathed long enough to remember what the sky looks like? hugged his mom, laughed with his sister? did he ever visit his father’s grave? does he remember what the breeze smells like? was he ever really happy? did he deny himself his only chance?

at least in the case of L and near the isolation feels intentional, a preferable choice, carefully and logically considered for all the pros and cons. light never asked for the position he fell into, that fell upon him, that he created for himself. he denies the death note being a curse, but it’s not like he could ever admit it if it was.

light’s story arc in death note really feels like a tragedy to me, specifically in the sense that he never really gets the chance to change. on a plot level this is true, much of the second half of the story post-L death is light utilizing the exact same strategies as before (taking away his ownership of the DN to Strategize, romancing a woman he doesn’t care for to use her, fighting a snarky troll of a super genius hiding behind a letter whose real name & face he cannot find), but it’s true on an emotional level too. light never really gets to grow up, he never gets the chance to truly question his ideals or goals without the world he’s built by himself crashing down around him.

i keep thinking back to the significance of matsuda asking him about his dad, how he could drag him to his death for the sake of all of this. light’s response, so truthful in its desperation, really sums it all up: he died for a reason. KIRA has to win, or his dad died for nothing. he cannot face the idea that he caused his own father’s death, so KIRA must be justice. there is no other alternative. KIRA is god, or light yagami killed his own father for a fairytale.

really, it’s so fitting that his name uses the kanji for moon. moonlight— not originating from the moon itself but a reflection, of something brighter, greater, more powerful than he could ever be. light dies the same way as every other criminal he passed his judgement upon, on his knees and desperate, pathetic, begging for life even as he knows he is doomed to the same fate of nothingness that he granted to everybody else. godhood denied. he said it himself, that he could never be anything more than a human, but somewhere in the fog he lost track of the person he once was. and it’s near’s cruelest observation that stands out the most to me in that final scene— that he never really had to be this. he could’ve stopped at any point, felt his guilt, paid his regrets, and moved on with his humanity still intact. light has spent far too long repressing and denying to ever consider that an option anymore— but there was still room for sympathy for the 17 year old kid who killed without thinking, long before he built up such a dedicated palace of lies to justify his actions and hide away his guilt.

L-KIRA dies on the floor of a dirty, abandoned building, surrounded by the people he spent years manipulating and lying to and betraying. light yagami dies in a helicopter, locked and chained to his only closest equal, holding a notebook that he would use to sound the death knell of his own fate and wearing his father’s gifted watch.

[candypot]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗧 : ex with attachment issues headcanons

notes: came back with more cunty content about this cunty queen

|theres NSFW mentions on this post - don’t scroll if you’re a minor|

•Probably will resent you very much for wasting his precious time, but the scale of his harshness towards you depends on the breakup reason.

• At the worst case he'll throw some light shade at you whenever you happened to be in the same room as him. It would be too impolite to just directly address his displeasure with your presence, so expect just some indirect complaints about your "exaggerated perfume" or your "disrespect towards the school etiquette”. He'll make sure to bother just enough to satisfy his hurt ego, even though he knew deep down it was ridiculous for his image as a dorm leader.

• if the breakup reason was lighter, he'll just make sure to address you with indifference and politeness like he does with any other student of Night Raven College. You might feel some sharp glares towards you sometimes or a additional rigid breath, but he'll never bother you with such a nonsense because of his unattached persona.

• Surely won't bat an eye when you pass through him on the crowded corridors of the college, Vil was an excellent actor after all and he would do everything he could to hide how much you affected him with your absence.

• But this doesn't mean you should go around underestimating his peripheral vision, in the end the day his eyes were scanning every little corner with the hope of finding you somewhere.

• Also, don't get too careless thinking you can move on quickly after the break up. If you're even thinking about seeing someone else with less than two months, be aware that he's going to come back in your life just to torment you. Vil loves to remind you how good it was to have him as a partner in times like this and also how horrible it could be to lost him forever. He'll make sure to come back to you just to make sure you drop your other options before he pushes you away again.

• Make sure you're prepared to be dragged on a vicious cycle of affection and indifference depending on his mood of the day. He missed you so much... but he had to move on from that phase as quick as possible for the sake of his career... but you had to understand that you were made to be his... but he also should stop pampering you so much after such mediocre relationship…. but you also should be more considerate with his feelings, you guys had story together... but seriously! you had to stop being so overly sensitive and leave him alone when he needed. It would be a endless and torturing cycle for the both of you, he wanted to feel worth your attention and at the same time make sure you knew what you had lost.

• Would try to push the thoughts of you to the back of his mind with the practice of physical exercise. It was honestly so stressing to not being able to focus on anything after that awful break up with such a common person! He had to clear his mind up with something or at least be tired enough to not think about it (he would probably dream about you anyway).

• Maybe he could even start seeing a therapist to read more deeply into this strange addiction he had of you. The other alternatives weren't helping to clean his mind anymore and he could notice how physically and emotionally draining it was getting to not understand his feeling towards you.

• Shamefully, hate sex would probably be a thing. It was so so so humiliating to have his thoughts wandering around you and the heated moments you guys shared together... his bed seemed so empty without your warm body trembling bellow him (or on top of him). He was so dumb to even bring you to his room in first place! How could he even sleep in such a place after all you had done in those sheets? Now it was almost as necessary as oxygen to have your lowly presence by his side again, he needed to feel your grotesque hands on him and your petulant mouth on his.

• The whole experience would be very humiliating for the both of you, nor him nor you would have the gut to admit you were constantly seeking each other behind that hatful facade. At some point, people wouldn't even bother to understand your current status of relationship anymore. Even Rook, which was the biggest stalker supporter of the both of you was tired of listening those well know noises from his roi du poison's room.

[queerfables]

Reading this excellent laudanum meta by @azfellandco got me thinking about Crowley and Aziraphale and suicide pills. I haven't given this subject much thought in the past, because I agree with Mir that this wasn't on Crowley's radar when he asked for the holy water. Certainly book!Crowley only ever thinks of it as a defensive weapon, and even when faced with literally eternal torture if he's taken alive, he's meticulously careful to protect himself from exposure.

But the thing is. The thing is. It's actually not crazy of Aziraphale to fear this. Not because I think Crowley is particularly prone to suicidal ideation. But rather because they are enemy agents committing treason with every moment they spend together.

"Suicide pill" is an entirely anachronistic term for Aziraphale to use in 1862, since the concept wouldn't arise until World War II (making this Aziraphale's own lead balloon moment). What sometimes gets lost when we talk about this scene - understandably, given all the strong emotions going on in it - is that a suicide pill is a weapon of espionage, a pragmatic last resort for when your only alternatives are captivity, torture, and a painful death. Even if Crowley did mean to use it that way, there's no reason to think he would ever go through with it unless his other options were much, much worse.

And this is where my brain started sparking like a faulty wire, because refusing a request like that is love at its most selfish. Aziraphale cannot bear to lose Crowley. No matter what. He's asking Crowley to risk enduring torture with no way out rather than leave him on his own.

And then at the same time, it's love at its most recklessly and gloriously unguarded. A suicide pill doesn't just exist to protect the captured operative, it protects all the dangerous information in their heads from being exposed. And Crowley and Aziraphale hold all kinds of incriminating secrets about each other. Do you believe there's absolutely nothing hell could do to Crowley that would make him betray Aziraphale? Because Aziraphale does. Or he is willing to accept that Crowley could be used against him. He would rather be betrayed by Crowley than bereft of him.

It's such a messy, human way to love. And the fact that Aziraphale relents eventually just makes it all the more human. He'll give Crowley the choice, and ask him not to take it, and have to live with just the hope that that's enough. And he saves Crowley's life with that trust! God, everything about it means the world to me.

[ohdeerfully]

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours 

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You loved antique shopping. 

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover. 

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle. 

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke. 

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant. 

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing,  the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

[lycheeloving]

I KNOW MY THING IS "every member of the Justice League has their own darling". BUT. all of them having the same darling is so fun too... Some slight nsfw at the end so minors dni please. (Inspired by the A Day In Life series by @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, bc it's what made me think of the yandere JL so much that I had to write something. Hope it's ok to tag you!)

I feel like they'd have a schedule. Who's allowed to hang out with you at what time? Just a meticulous schedule that accounts for every second of every day, so that nobody gets to spend more time with you than somebody else.

They try to have one group meal every day, where everyone is present. So even if it's not somebody's turn to spend one-on-one time with you, they still see you and have the opportunity to talk to you that day. They rotate through who gets to sit next to you and right across from you. Those aren't hard rules though, if you want to sit next to somebody else, they begrudgingly (or happily, depending on if you're choosing to sit next to them) follow your wishes. A good way to get back at someone who annoyed you. Green Lantern won't stop bragging about how cool he was yesterday when he took down a bad guy? Get up and tell Superman to scooch over so you can sit next to Batman. Immediately shuts Hal up. And teaches them all not to annoy you during meals if they want to sit next to you.

You sleep in someone else's room every night. That's non-negotiable unfortunately, because some of them are better to sleep next to than others. I think the Flash would move around in his sleep a lot, maybe even snore? Superman treats you like a teddy bear and you can't wriggle out of his grasp when he's sleeping. Wonder Woman probably sprawls out all over the bed so you don't have a lot of space left. Green Lantern steals the blanket. Batman would be one of the better ones, if he wasn't such a light sleeper. Every time you move the slightest bit, he wakes up. Which you wouldn't mind, if he'd only stop his creepy staring... That being said, J'onn is probably the best, quiet and unmoving like Batman, but without the staring. He could be reading your mind and watching your dreams, but that's easier to ignore.

I also think they'd get used to the situation after a while and get more lax about the schedule, get less jealous, learn how to live together! Which is a huge advantage to you as you don't have to hurry from one place to the next to "make the most of your time together" or get back to the Watchtower quickly so you don't cut into the next persons time. That would cause lots of fights in the beginning. None of them blame you, of course, but living with them is still easier when everyone is getting along.

That still leaves the question of how they go about your firsts. Your first kiss with one of them, for example. Pulling names out of a hat? Fight over it? The strongest one gets to go first, the second strongest after that, etc? Letting you decide?

Same thing with having sex. These things are very serious to them so it'd take a while until they decide how to go about it. You'll probably have accepted your place among them at that point, maybe even come to like them?

I could really see them battling it out, even if their jealousy gets better after a while, they would all still want to be the first. Nothing where they'd seriously harm each other, but are still able to determine a winner. Whoever hits the ground first loses?

But whatever it is and whoever wins, I think your first time having sex with them would be a group activity. First place gets to actually have sex with you, second place gets to hold your head in their lap and gently stroke your face, third and fourth place get to sit next to you and each hold one of your hands, everyone else has to watch from the sidelines. (alternate option for that here)

The first kiss would also be in front of everyone else, so the others can stop it from "going too far", and wait for it to be their turn. You'll be kissing non-stop until they've all had their turn (in the order they previously fought over, of course.)

I have no clue who would win though! Superman would be the obvious answer, but if they're allowed to use (tiny, non-lethal amounts of) kryptonite? It could be anyone... Who do you think would win? Or who would you want to win?

[iiseult]

Hello, I was wondering what the life of the female reader would be like when King Baldwin was not a leper. I mean, what would their life be like together as a married couple?

𝐵𝒶𝓁𝒹𝓌𝒾𝓃 𝐼𝒱 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓈: 𝒩𝑜𝓃-𝓁𝑒𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃

CWs → fluff, smut, probable historical inaccuracies, she/her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of religion, childbirth

Note: I know this took like over a month to get to, but in my defense I was working on completing the first arc of my multichapter Baldwin x reader fic. Also, if anyone’s interested, I started posting an alternate version of that on ao3 that’s in third person and from the perspective of a girl named Semele. As far as actual writing goes I think it’s much better quality simply because I don’t have to do all that corny second person bullshit or use the words “Y/N.” That’s a real pain in my ass. Anyway! 

Wordcount: 852

King Baldwin’s standards are high. He is a gorgeous young man with the world at his fingertips and he wants a woman, not a girl, to explore it with him. 

She must be good. She does not need to be rich or noble, but she needs to be selfless and kind and bold. And he needs someone who can match him in intellect so he doesn’t get bored. 

His hair frames his face in charming golden waves that fall to about his chin. His eyes are a deep cerulean, lined by long lashes, and his lips are pink and shapely, if a bit on the thin side. The nose is strong and straight, the jaw is square and sharp, the cheekbones are high and structured, and the skin covering it all is smooth and healthy. A light smattering of tiny freckles paint his nose and cheeks. His body is strong, with substantial broad shoulders, and what muscle he has is subtle but genuine. 

Sometimes his movements are awkward, a little different from other well-bred boys his age, and perhaps that’s what makes him so appealing. So mysterious. And, by the way, he certainly is appealing. 

Every woman that lays eyes on him, and even some that have never had that honor and know of him only from word of mouth, want him. Every woman thinks she can somehow be good enough for him. Of course, maybe one in one thousand of them actually is. 

When a lady finally catches his eye, it would be for her wit or her bravery. Perhaps she would beat him in a game of chess, or speak out against what she thinks is wrong. The more cruelty in her smile, the more attractive she becomes. 

When he proposes, it’s very romantic, very personal, and above all, very private. Though he surely makes the experience memorable for his future wife, he doesn’t do anything over-the-top. It does not involve other people, and perhaps it doesn’t even take place at a particular spot. The most important part of the proposal, after all, is the words he is speaking, the vow he is making. He puts his silver tongue to good use, so that saying no isn’t even an option anymore. How could she possibly turn him down? 

 He can’t wait to get his hands on her. The wedding night is something he has long been looking forward to, knowing that it would be worth it to wait for the right woman, and of course, it exceeds his expectations. How could he have guessed how soft, how supple her flesh would feel beneath him? How sweet and yielding? There was nothing that could have prepared him for the feeling of warmth that wholly enveloped him the first time they made love. It was something that could never be recreated by his own hand. It could only ever occur by the soft hand, or the cruel, relentless lips of his young wife. 

His body is young and robust, as is hers, and they are both brimming with passion and want. The first month of the marriage is spent mostly alone together, trapped in an endless cycle of tiring each other out, sleeping, waking, and doing the whole damned thing all over again. It would take no time at all for the seed to be planted in her fertile womb and a baby to begin to grow. 

Seeing his wife pregnant would only make him fall in love with her more, if such a thing were even possible. Now she is carrying a little miracle inside her, and to him, the world around her positively glows. He is, in a word, infatuated. So proud. He takes her into town and practically parades her around, the curve of her swollen belly growing more and more obvious under the fabric of her gown. Isn’t she beautiful, he would say to Raymond, and to Sybilla, and to anyone else who was unlucky enough to engage him in conversation. 

During the birth, he stayed by her side. He was the one to wipe the sweat from her forehead with damp towels, to hold her hand and cry softly from seeing her in such pain. He loves her so much, and he was going to love that baby, too. He was going to positively spoil it. That is, if it didn’t kill her! He cries more than she does during the birth, and though he does everything he can to ease her pain and help the midwife speed along the process, mostly he can do nothing but stand around and wring his hands and look helplessly at his love, his eyes swimming with wild fear and affection and awe. She’s so strong, how is she doing it? 

Once the baby is born, though the sheets of her bed are soiled with various fluids, he lays down next to his wife and holds her in his arms and she holds their baby in her arms, and they all sleep, a perfect family. The baby is going to look just like her, he thinks, and he will love it. 

[s-sugustar]

Your heroes — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 , 𝒥．𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝

🎧﹒synopsis ﹒✢﹐— Should've left her in my care, this wouldn't have happened if you did. — 𝒟．𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

🎧﹒pairings ﹒✢﹐— Yandere! Red Hood x blk!fem reader x Yandere! Nightwing

🎧﹒content warning ﹒✢﹐— dark content, drug usage, smut, dub-con, power play if you squint hard enough, impact play, spitting, choking, degradation

🎧﹒author's notes ﹒✢﹐— had this in my drafts for ages since i had been a bit skeptical about posting it but here it is.

🎧﹒wc ﹒✢﹐— 3.1k

“D’aww, look Jay. She’s drooling.” Grayson concedes, his hips pushing further and further into while his hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing both sides from time to time. Jason struggled against the ropes as he watched Grayson mercilessly pound into you. The whining and tiredness in your voice had caught Grayson mid-way; stopping you from reaching your climax. “Is the baby tired?” he seethed, pulling you up by the neck to stop you from slumping over onto the bed.

Screeching in pain, the squinting of your eyes and the muffled sounds of your screams had been enough for Jason to wince. Everything was hurting and he knew that but there was nothing he could do. His limbs were like jello and his energy was gone; all because of some poison Grayson had thrown at him when he tried to stop Grayson from entering his apartment. 

“Babe, you know the rules. You go to work, and you come straight back home, y’hear me?” Jason muttered, giving you a light kiss on the lips before placing one on your forehead before putting the metal helmet on. You really wished he didn’t have to lead this type of life; you wanted him to settle down for a bit, so you begged. Every single time he bid you goodbye at 2 in the morning, you always had something to say about staying home with you.

Regardless of how you put it each time, his answer had been the same regardless. “Gotta provide for you and f’me baby. Gotham needs to be at peace once in a while.” The end part being a joke to cheer you up or in hopes of making you laugh but that never happened. Staying quiet seemed like the best option every single time after the very first time you brought it up. 

To say it in the easiest way is best. Jason is paranoid; a bit too in over his head but his paranoia comes from years of battling against Batman and the fear of the Joker finding him once again and stripping him of everything, only this time, he feared it would be you with the aches of being hit with a crowbar.

After his resurrection, Jason bulked to say the least. His confidence hadn’t been there but he was stronger than before and he knew for a certainty that he would have a better chance at protecting you than before. Hiding away in the most grimy places in Gotham was his best alternative at this point. 

After becoming Red Hood, many of the districts fell under him as he ranked up. Unfortunately, he had a run-in with the one and only Batman, and to say that it ended in the most gruesome way possible was an understatement. Oh, no one was injured gravely, but the feelings that had been pent up for years had come all undone. 

“Jason, I’m sorry.” It took three words for the young boy to fall to his knees in tears. After all that he had been through, he still cherished the man that left him to die. Oh what a pity. But alas, had it only been the Bruce and Grayson that had been in mourning? Dear God no. Had anyone think to check on Y/n, who had been Jason’s best friend? Grayson sure did. He had to be the one to keep her going after she heard the news.

The pain, the torment, the nightmares day in and out. It was a lot for Y/n to keep on going but Grayson made it better. During that time of need, Grayson stayed by your side through everything. He was your shoulder to cry on, the one who made you laugh till your stomach aches. He was your everything and all in one when Jason couldn’t have been. 

“You know I’ll never leave you right?”  Grayson questioned, he peered down at you with a sullen look in his eyes, his fingers grazing the sides of your face.You fell asleep not too long ago, your head perched on a pillow with your head resting against Grayson’s arm. He knew that you wouldn’t have answered him, you had an extremely long day and with today being the 2 year anniversary of Jason’s death casting your light down even further than it was.

Bruce hadn’t been around you much, guilt filled his heart whenever he saw you so he chose to stay away. Grayson on the other hand, he knew that you lost the one who truly understood you, who had been there through thick and thin. Although Jason meant everything to you, Grayson held a piece of your heart as a dear beloved friend. 

To say that Grayson hadn’t felt a little bad that he was a bit glad that Jason had been gone was quite the understatement. He felt some sort of joy to see the way your eyes watered and your lips quivering before you had a full-blown breakdown. The heaving and small sniffles that came from you whilst Grayson soothed you made his heart do flips.

Now, Grayson was a sadist in any form or fashion but the way you looked, so vulnerable, so heartbroken, God did it do some things to him. Maybe it won't be a breakdown next time, maybe you'll be under him squirming and squealing as thrusts his dick into you. His plan was in place, all he needed was to wait for the right moment.

Silence filled the room as you looked straight ahead of you, shock written all over your face. You couldn't move, you dearly wish you could've in this moment but how could you when the one you thought was dead stood boldly in front of you, a metal bodice surrounding his form and a metal mask in hand. "Jason?" was the only thing that fell from your lips as you drank in the boy or well man that stood before you.

Red had always been his favorite color from young; you never forgot. His eyes seemed distant; his stance wasn't as before. Rigid and hollow, many walls built for the sake of his sanity and maybe yours but in this moment, all of that crumbled when he spoke. "I came back. I came back. . . . .for you." All the love that had been shared between the two of you came rushing in like a tidal wave, breaking whatever strong force that tried to pull it back.

Grayson laid on the floor, bruised and bleeding; his mouth pooling with the taste of metal and the sight of red on the pavement. He cursed heavily before pulling himself up, his head against the nearest wall as he held his abdomen in pain. "That stupid red mask." He found his way home, easing through the open window, maybe a bounce in his step to see you.

A burning sensation rang through his jaw but that didn't stop him from calling out to you. Yet, he was met with silence. Odd. Usually you would have your arms wrapped around his torso, completely unaware of the wounds he had until a wince fell from his lips making you completely aware of his wounds before apologizing. "Hey munchkin, this isn't the time to play hide and seek with me. I'm hurt and I need your company right now."

Yet no response, again. Maybe you were asleep. With his head, he peeked into the room, quietly surveying it before slipping in ever so quietly. "Baby, stop heading from m-." "She's not hiding from you, she's gone." Nightwing sneered, wincing as he turned to face the one with a metal helmet coated in red with white lenses stared back at his broken body.

His hand balled into a fist before speaking, blood pooling in his mouth. "Where did you take her? Where the hell did you take her Red Hood?" A deep rumble emitted from his throat, his eyes squinting as he stalked towards the bigger man. Yet he didn't make it far as the barrel of a gun found refuge between his eyes, the metal was cold and hard since Red Hood pressed it harder against the skull of Nightwing.

"You come after her, I put a bullet in between your eyes, Grayson." The name fell from Jason's lips with much hatred and malice but with the built in modulator it was hard for Nightwing to understand the emotions behind what he had said. With a pregnant pause, Red Hood gave Nightwing one last look before going out through the window. Nightwing grunted in anger and in pain but stood in his place for a couple of minutes. He'll get you back, one way or another.

"Sugar, you know I love you too much but I can't let you out. I'm sorry." Jason reasoned, it had been almost a year since he scooped you up from Grayson and you loved every bit of it but you felt caged. You couldn't leave the apartment, orders of Jason Todd. Sure, he had his reasons, but you wanted out. No, you needed to get out.

Seeing the same four walls day in and day out started to make you lose your mind and you couldn't afford to do that right now: not to Jason anyways. He had been through too much for you to act out and start whining over not being able to leave the house. Maybe it was for the best. Just like what Grayson used to say.

Grayson, Richard Grayson or well Dick as he wished you to call him. Boy was he some character. His worrisome state and his constant clinginess had been enough for you. You knew he meant well but sometimes you felt if there had been some sort of kick he was getting out of this.

You knew he meant well but sometimes you could feel something more sinister and darker, something he wasn't saying or well doing. Shaking your head from such perilous thoughts, you switched through channels trying to find some that would catch your attention.

A few hours later, you fell into sleepy state, your eyes shutting but blinking back to life to stay focused on the movie that had been playing. What did seem to catch your attention was the loud thunk that echoed from a room in the corridor. You sat up looking towards the hallway patiently waiting for Jason to appear.

Glancing over at the digital clock that showed 2:14 a.m. in bright red colors, it was around this time that Jason would normally get home but seeing that he didn't appear yet, you went to investigate. You peered into the training room, calling out to him. but you saw nothing, the only other room there had been the one both you and Jason slept in, so you headed there. You pushed open the door, a curious look upon your face when you saw that he hadn't been in there either, maybe something fell.

Now, you weren't one to be paranoid, but you felt goosebumps rise against your skin and the hairs on the back of your neck rising. You were being watched. At times like this, you wish Jason had trained you in some sort of hand-to-hand combat, something you could fight with, but he left you helpless, like a doll without blemishes, perched in a high place just to look pretty and keep up appearances. So caught up in the pretenses of the happy life you lived and the one you longed for, you weren't able to sense the light steps that followed behind you so in esseence, you were an easy target.

Yelping in pain, you grabbed the side of your head from the place where you had been hit and at the same time, you turned to see the culprit, but instead of meeting a face, your eyes met the hard plywood within the apartment; splotches of black covering your sight. Soon enough, you were out cold and left in the hands of the culprit.

A sheer gasp fell from your lips as some strong force from behind. Wrapping their dominant hand around your waist and one hand gripped against your mouth. You tried to scream and hit them at the same time but all failed when the perpetrator tightened their grip on your waist and squeezed the flesh of your jaw, nails and the fabric on their hands digging into your skin.

"C'mon sweetheart, don't be like that to poor little Grayson." Your eyes widen in fear when a voice you could never forget sounded from behind you, but you weren't so shaken by the fact that Grayson had been pounding you whilst you slept but the fact that Jason had been tied to a chair, eyes wide open and staring right at you.

Brusies of all shapes and colors decorated his skin, more so the black eye that was starting to form. It was only then that you realized he had been gagged with some sort of sheer material from what you could see.

Then you saw the watery look in his eyes, was it because of the bruises, maybe so. That had been your first guess since it couldn't possibly be that he was crying, was he? With the little energy you had left, you twisted and turned your arm to loosen the grip that had been around it before you snatched it away, reaching towards Jason with a soft wail leaving your lips as you tried to reach him.

Alas, but Grayson had been attentive. Although caught up in filling you up with his cum and making sure Jason knew you were his, he pulled back your wrist, a tighter grip than before, wrenching it back in the same position, not caring if he had hurt you in the moment.

"You pull away from me again and I will break both your arms, understand?" Fear enveloped your entire body, but you still nodded, not wanting to anger the man any further. Maybe it had been your body that made you fall into the deep end. Panting at the surge of pleasure that flew through you as Grayson thrusted against your hips; the slick fabric rubbing against your skin every time he moved. The grip on your hips maybe have been tight but it felt good, really good. You weren't the only one who felt good in this moment though, the sane yet needy body that had been ravishing you from behind felt the shift in your stance.

Your arch deepened and your moans and whines felt more eased than strained; you were finally started to like it and that made Grayson excited. Yet on the other hand, Jason was furious; fingers deeply caved into his palms, he wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding and his teeth clashed to the point where his jaw started to hurt. He shook against the restraints, pulling and twisting to find some sort of release.

His teeth snapping into one of your soiled panties, which he only learned that it was when Grayson had pointed it out when you were still passed out. The sweat shined in the moon light, beads of it dripping from his eyebrow. He felt hot and squeamish, he needed to get out of these restraints. Groaning at the rope that restricted his wrists, the roughness from it, bruising his wrists. The discomfort from the tactical pants he wore; not only from the ropes that sat around his ankles but also from inside of them.

The pushing against the fabric, a bit too tight for his liking. God, he felt disgusted with himself, but the sight of you was so appealing, he needed more; needed to feel you, feel inside you. The deep hollowness within his stomach stated enough, it was detrimental but addicting.

He hated the way Grayson corrupted you, pushing you into unknown waters, hazy of all things around you. He wanted to keep you safe, away from the dangers of this world, safe and wrapped in his arms. He was pulled from his thoughts when Grayson started to mumble, murmuring words into your ear. Jason didn't even realize that you were awake; eyes wide and staring right at him.

Was it shock or fear? Normally, with his enhanced hearing, he would have been able to hear every word that Grayson whispered to you and maybe he would've been able to break out from the ropes if his advanced strength and agility was still there but whatever Grayson had in that syringe caused his energy to deplete and his limbs to feel gummy.

Back to present moment where Grayson had your back arched and head pushed down in the mattress, Jason watched as you wiggle and squirm but every time that you did, you received a harsh slap to your thigh, causing you to whine in protest. Grayson had pulled out from his daze and looked towards Jason with a large smile, canines pointed and sharp, ready to strike and pierce.

He saw the mischievous glint in his eyes; that meant he was up to absolutely no good. "God Y/n, your blood smells divine. I don't understand why Jason hasn't sunken his teeth into you yet." As Grayson spoke, Jason's eyes widen in fear, head shaking vigorously, trying to signal to Grayson not to do it but by the smile etched on his face, he knew his attempts were futile.

Your screams were muffled by Grayson's hand as he sunk his teeth into your exposed neck, gripping your neck as he pulled it further to the side for more access. The man in restraints screamed, begged Grayson to stop but his screams were muffled by the now soaking wet fabric that invaded his mouth. His chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, eyes blown wide and bright in red as he heard your screams dying down and head lolling to the side, indicating that you had passed out from too much of your blood being taken.

"Oh no, poor baby all tuckered out." Grayson taunted, dropping your limp body back onto the bed as he pulled out of you; not caring enough to clean you up or wrap you in a soft cotton cloth. The older man got up from the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks before walking over to the chair that Jason had been tied to. With a pat on the shoulder, Grayson left Jason tied to the chair with nothing else but to stare at your unconscious body in the moonlight.

Tears cascading down his face not just from sadness of not being able to protect but from anger that the one person he trusted defiled the one person that kept him going. Once Jason was out of the ropes, he'd clean you and keep you warm but after his eyes were dead set on Richard 'Dick' Grayson and destroying everything he stood for. This meant war.

[trans-axolotl]

content note: discussion of suicide.

this next monday will be the six year anniversary of losing one of my friends to suicide.

when he died, my high school barely mentioned his death, even though for other students who died by things like car crashes or illness, there were so many public expressions of grief. they believed that having any memorials for a student who died by suicide would encourage other people to die the same way. in their rush to erase the circumstances of his death, they erased the memory of his life.

there are so many things i am angry at that high school about in terms of how they treated mental health (mandatory reporting and collaborating with cops, their refusal to recognize the ways in which that system led to peer-to-peer crisis support, their refusal to recognize the ways that trying to keep each other alive through trial and error was scary and exhausting, carceral disciplinary policies, etc etc etc). but i think one of the things i am still angriest about is the way they enforced shame around his death. it felt like they were retroactively blaming him for the constellation of circumstances that made suicide an option in his life. it felt like they were blaming those of us who missed him and cared about him and wanted to grieve him. it made those of us still there who were actively suicidal feel even more scared about the reaction if we did reach out for help from one of those mythical safe adults.

as an adult now involved in psych abolition/mad liberation work, it makes me so fucking mad to see the ways in which he was discarded by people in authority positions. and the older i get, the more options i have found in my life for making sense of the world and finding healing and community and support which were never available to him because he died when he was 16 and the only things offered to him were a carceral psychiatric system that blamed him for his own fucking death. it feels so incredibly unfair.

i miss him and i think i always will; i can't remember his laugh or the sound of his voice or his favorite color any more and that aches. this grief is so heavy and it feels harder in a new way each year, when i become older than he will ever be. sometimes meeting new comrades or seeing new anticarceral suicide support models hurts because i wish so fucking bad that we had that back then. i remember how close we came to losing even more people that year and i know it is simple fucking luck that i'm still here when he's not.

i remember another letter (never sent) that i wrote to a friend while they were in an ICU bed after a suicide attempt when i didn't know if they would live or not. i have spent so much time in the past 10 years begging for anything to keep me and my friends alive, but even in that letter i knew that there is so much fucking violence that is hidden beneath psychiatric logics of cure and safety that promise a "solution" to suicide. I knew that institutionalization, coercion, and shame would not have helped build a life more liveable for him or **** or any of the people i've loved and lost since.

there needs to be more fucking options for care and support that aren't so incredibly cruel to suicidal people. i know so many people doing incredible work in alternatives, peer respite, a million different frameworks for healing and liberation. but it makes me so mad every day i have to live in a world where there are still people restrained, locked up in psych wards, having all autonomy and personhood taken away from them. knowing there are dozens of people every day getting blamed for their deaths the same way he was blamed for his.

i miss him. i cared so fucking much for him. and he died by suicide, and all of those things are true. he has been dead for 6 years and he lived before that and the people who loved him want to remember all of him; our celebrations of his life should not require hiding the way that he died.

Image description: [1000 origami cranes in all different colors and patterns that are tied together in strings of 25]

(these were the 1000 cranes we made to give to his parents, in memorial and recognition of how much he meant to us.)

[loverangels]

somethin' stupid

pairings: laurie laurence x fem!reader

synopsis: you had watched the boy you loved run after another girl your whole life, yet when he falls back to you as his second option you have to make a heartbreaking decision.

a/n: literally all angst 😭, use of (name), mention of drinking

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Through foggy windows and layers of love, you had watched Laurie Laurence devote his adoration to jo march. Despite being there as a friend to step back on, despite the comforting moments where you were a shoulder to cry on, and despite the fact that you were utterly and profoundly in love with the boy, it didn't seem to change anything.

Moments were hard, watching Laurie and your best friend Jo during the times where the three of you hung out, watching Jo being her carefree self not needing to try to get Laurie's attention, the alternative to you, whilst Laurie chased her around and danced with his feelings around her.

And then there was you.

Jo had confided to you of her fears of the laurence boys feelings, and Laurie confided to you his feelings for Jo.

'i just don't know what to do!' Jo exclaimed 'i love Laurie I do but...not the way he loves me. My love is as strong, it just comes from a different place'

'i love her and I think...I think if I showed her how much I love her she'll tell me loves me just as much' Laurie sighed leaning his head on your shoulder. 'shes the only one for me'

and you? well you were just there.

a witness to the horrible testimony despite your shattered heart.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

You knew what had taken place the moment you had watched Laurie out of your window, almost somberly walk back, home his head hung down, hands stuffed in his pockets and tears stained down his cheeks.

You knew Jo had refused him.

You should have felt a relief, the cold rush over your body as though you had just taken a refreshing gulp of air.

You felt almost cleansed and you were ashamed of yourself for that.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Four years.

You had never thought how lonely you would be, every night it seemed as though you cursed yourself for ever wishing such a horrible thing upon Laurie because now...now it had been four years since you had seen him.

Your mother had passed away not too long after Laurie had left for Europe.

Not only were you dealing with the grief for the boy who you loved, but also for the turning point of losing a mother.

With the some of the last money you had, you arranged a nice small ceremony for her, inviting the marchs' and Laurie.

However it seemed as though Laurie hadn't cared enough to arrive back.

The marchs' gave their condolences comforting you, yet it seemed as though the one person who you needed the most didn't need you.

At the end of the first year you decided to go abroad. To Italy. You packed all the last possesions you owned and rented your small home out to a family whilst you were abroad.

Landing in Italy you had opened a tailor shop selling plain dresses and mending old belongings. As you made a name for yourself and gathered more money you had made a wider range of clothing and now luxurious elegant gowns.

So that's what you did.

Rich women with rich needs would come to you to stitch together a gown of their dreams, and you would make quite a good living out of it.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

It had been years and you were thriving, you had a fiancé who had quite some money and was a thoughtful man, you yourself had made yourself a name and money and you had some friends.

And now you were here dragged by Amy to some sort of party in paris.

How you ended up there was beyond you.

The room was buzzing with excited chatter and flirty glances, the floor lit with somber lighting, shirts loosened and curls detangled.

Engaging happily with Amy about Aaron, your fiancé, a glass in your hand as you swirled the remains of your drink.

"...and we're to get married in summer," you continue, your voice carrying a practiced cheerfulness. "Aaron and I were debating on May, but having it in the summer seemed perfect—" You pause mid-sentence, noticing Amy's gaze shift behind you. Her eyes widen, darting nervously between you and whatever—or whoever—she sees.

Your heart begins to race, dread and curiosity mingling as you slowly turn to follow her line of sight. And there he is. Laurie. Theodore Laurence, strewn across a couch in the midst of a lively crowd, his drunken smile and magnetic presence exactly as you remember—and yet entirely unfamiliar. For a moment, the world tilts, the din of laughter and clinking glasses fading into silence. It’s been four years. Four years since you last saw him, four years since you tucked your feelings for him into the quiet corner of your heart, convinced he’d never look at you the way you wished he would.

And yet, here he is, thrown casually on the arm of a velvet couch, a charming grin aimed at the young women beside him.

Your chest tightens as the sight of him threatens to undo you. He looks so at ease, so... content. You force yourself to breathe, but the air feels heavy, laden with emotions you thought you'd buried long ago. Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass as he glances up—and for the briefest moment, your eyes meet.

Air caught in your throat as you swallow the lump weighing down on your heart, as you tear your eyes away, whipping back around to Amy almost at a loss for breath.

Shaken you excuse yourself from Amy and her pitiful eyes when she gives your hand a squeeze, as you walk past and outside onto the porch, letting your eyes close as the cool breeze softens your muscles.

After a few minutes of regulating your breathing, you turned around, your fingers brushing the ornate railing of the Parisian railing of the poarch. as you hear the soft click of the door opening behind you. The distant hum of party chatter and laughter carried on the breeze, but it was his voice, low and familiar, that pierced through it all.

'(name)'

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you froze. You hadn’t heard him say your name in years, not like this—gentle, hesitant, almost uncertain. It sounded older, heavier somehow, as if he bore the weight of those four years just as you did.

You turn slowly, the soft glow of the garden lamps casting faint shadows across his face. He was still Laurie—blacken hair and sharp-featured—but his boyishness had given way to something sharper, something a little more tired. He stepped towards you, and you instinctively took a step back, gripping the railing tighter.

"You followed me out here?" Your voice cold, more so than you intended, but the storm of emotions building in your chest left little room for restraint.

He stopped short, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face. "I had to."

"Had to?" you echoed, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. "That’s funny, because you didn’t have to—" you bit the words off, closing her eyes briefly, as if reining in your anger. When you opened them again, your gaze was sharp and unyielding. "You didn’t have to come to my mother’s funeral. Or write. Or even—" you shook your head, your voice cracking slightly. "You didn’t have to do anything, did you, Laurie?"

He flinched, and for the first time, you saw the guilt etched into his features. "I—"

"Where were you?" The question came out like a whisper, but it hit him like a blow. "Where were you when I needed you most?"

Laurie looked down at his hands, as if searching for an answer there, before finally meeting your gaze. "I was a coward," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "When Jo said no, I ran. I didn’t know how to stay. Not with you, not with anyone. I thought—" He took a shaky breath. "I thought I was doing you a favor by staying away."

"A favor?" You repeat, incredulous. "You thought abandoning me—when I lost the only family I had left—was a favor?"

"I didn’t know what to say!" he burst out, his voice rising. "I didn’t know how to look you in the eye and face what I’d done. And I ruined it. I ruined everything."

"You didn’t ruin it," you said finally, your voice trembling. "You just… left. And you broke me, Laurie. You broke me."

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the faint strains of music drifting out from the party inside. He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I’m sorry," he said.

But sorry wasn’t enough.

You turn your back to him, gripping the railing as you stare out into the garden. "You can’t just show up here and expect everything to go back to the way it was," you say quietly. "I’ve spent years putting myself back together. And I don’t even know if I want—" you stopped, shaking your head.

"If you want me in your life," Laurie finished for her, his voice soft. He stepped closer, but this time, he didn’t try to reach for you. "I understand. I don’t deserve it. But I’d like to try, if you’ll let me."

You turn to face him again, eyes searching his for something—anything—that would make this easier. What you saw there wasn’t the boy you fallen in love with. It was someone else entirely. Someone older. Someone who had suffered in his own way.

"Small steps," you said at last, voice steady but firm. "If we’re going to fix this… it’s going to take time."

His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he nodded. "Small steps," he repeated.

The faint trace of a smile tugged at your lips, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Good."

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Over the span of a few weeks, you and Laurie had spent many occasions together, slowly constructing back the fondness you both held for each other. Tension was still palpable and strained at times, yet often you found yourself grinning and laughing at him.

Right now Laurie had arrived outside of the hotel you were residing in and you agreed to let him tag along.

As you shopped for a wedding dress.

When you told Laurie you were engaged you were too busy avoiding his gaze, and acting as though you were indifferent to his opinion, than to notice his crestfallen look and clenched jaw as you told him about Aaron.

Now, with the same bitter taste on his tongue, laurie was trailing along you as you busied yourself with the racks of dresses.

'you havent told me when the wedding is' Laurie spoke as you picked a certain dress that had caught your eye.

'oh' you simply remark 'its taking place in Rome in June'

And that's the last thing you say before you walk into the dressing room, dress in your hand, leaving laurie drowning in the words that threaten to leave his tongue.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

The silk glided over your skin as you stepped out of the dressing room, your breath catching at the sight in the mirror. The gown clung and flowed in all the right places, the corset cinching your waist perfectly while the long, flowy sleeves cascaded like a whisper of elegance. Tiny pink roses and green leaves embroidered on the fabric seemed to bloom in the soft light of the shop, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship. The bow at the small of your back tied it all together, making you feel—for the first time in a long while—utterly beautiful.

You turned slightly, running your fingers over the delicate embroidery, your reflection almost unrecognizable. "It’s perfect," you murmured to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The sound of footsteps made you glance toward the door, and there he was. Laurie.

He froze the moment he saw you. His hand still on the door, his lips parted slightly, as though he’d forgotten how to breathe. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, drinking in every detail as if he was committing it to memory—the softness of the silk, the curve of the corset, the gentle blush of the embroidery, the way the gown moved with you like it was made for no one else.

"You—" he began, his voice catching. He stepped closer, his expression shifting into something almost reverent. "You look… breathtaking."

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you ducked your head slightly, a laugh escaping despite yourself. "You’re being dramatic."

"I’m not," he said quickly, almost too quickly. His voice was softer now, his eyes locked on you. "I mean it. You look… like a dream."

You felt the compliment settle in your chest, warm and fluttering, as though it had been a long time since someone looked at you quite like that. You smoothed the fabric of the dress nervously, glancing back at your reflection. "Do you think Aaron will like it?"

The words hung in the air like a crack of thunder.

Laurie’s expression changed instantly, the warmth in his eyes replaced by something harder, sharper. His jaw tightened, and he took a step back as if the name physically pushed him away.

"Don’t marry him," he said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

You blinked, stunned. "What?"

"Don’t marry him," he repeated, louder this time, his eyes searching yours. There was a desperation in his voice, an almost frantic edge. "I can’t— I won’t let you."

Anger flared in your chest, your heart pounding as you turned to face him fully. "What are you talking about? You won’t let me? Laurie, what—"

"I love you," he interrupted, the words tumbling out as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice breaking. "I love you, (name). I have for so long, and I was too stupid to see it, to admit it. But I see it now, and it’s not too late—"

"Not too late?" you cut him off, your voice rising. "Not too late?" Emotion surged through you, hot and overwhelming, and before you could stop yourself, the words poured out. "Laurie, I loved you from the moment I met you. It was always you, me, and Jo. And I waited for you. I waited even after you left, even after my mother died, even after you didn’t come back. And now—" Your voice cracked, your eyes stinging with tears. "Now, when I’ve finally moved on, when I’ve built a life for myself, this is when you tell me you love me?"

"(name)—" he began, stepping toward you, but you held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"No," you said, shaking your head, your voice trembling with frustration. "I won’t be your second choice, Laurie."

"You’re not—"

"Really?" you snapped, your eyes blazing as the tears spilled over. "Jo didn’t marry you, so now you fall back to the person you know would? That’s cruel. It’s mean, and I won’t give you the satisfaction."

The silence that followed was deafening, the air between you heavy with words unsaid. Laurie’s face crumpled, his shoulders slumping as if your words had struck him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

You turned sharply, retreating to the dressing room, your hands trembling as you pulled at the laces of the corset. The dress that had made you feel so beautiful minutes ago now felt suffocating, the silk clinging too tightly to your skin. You slipped back into your regular clothes, blinking back tears as you tried to steady your breathing.

When you stepped out, the shop was quiet. Too quiet. Laurie was gone.

The woman behind the counter gave you a sympathetic look, her hands clasped in front of her. "He paid for the dress," she said softly, as if afraid her words might shatter you completely.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and forced yourself to smile. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you left the shop, the weight of everything pressed down on you, but you held your head high, determined not to let the tears fall. Not here. Not now.

[rawmeknockout]

Give me more CILF (Creator I'd like to fuck) writing! Please, I beg of you!

an assortment!

Rodimus is the young, hot, eager- to-please Captain that wants to spark you up soooo bad. There's just something so hot about the way you care so fiercely for your sparkling, it really gets his engine revving. He knows he's younger than you, but that doesn't make him any less of a mech! In fact, he's got all the energy and stamina a sire could need to look after any (potential) future sparklings you might have together. He's always looking to impress you, almost tripping over himself to prove he's the mech for you. Drift has heard enough of his delulu daydreams about how much he'd like to give you another. He's always been attracted to older mechs (hard not to be when your entire population is as long-lived as Cybertronians. He may be your boss, a headstrong and over-confident sort of guy, but he could be gentle if you wanted him to be! Let him show you!

Megatron is much quieter in his appreciation of you. It's not that the thought hasn't crossed his mind that you would look SO good carrying his sparkling, it's just that he's well aware how awful a decision that would be. Doesn't stop him from cranking his shaft to the idea. He's perfectly happy to look after the sparkling you already have when you need a break. Some might say he's the very last mech that should be in charge of looking after a sparkling, but he believes that some Autobots are far too self-sacrificing. Sure, he's now committed to the Autobots, but he still holds his personal belief that Cybertronians have value far greater than any self-perceived benefit to others. He will teach your sparkling that they exist first for themselves and for no other to take advantage of: be it a system or an individual. It just sort of helps that looking after your sparkling and ingratiating himself to them also puts him in closer proximity to you.

Ratchet won't ever admit it but the prospect of having a sparkling has always been so tempting for him. Of course, he was never in any position to have a sparkling of his own, first with his practice in Dead End and then the war, and now that he's quite a bit older the chances of that have gone down tremendously. In fact, he sees it as almost bordering on negligent to conceive one. But when he sees you with your sparkling his fantasies and daydreams of a domestic life come surging to the forefront of his processor. It's hard not to feel envy towards you, even if you're forced to care for your sparkling alone, but he tries to stamp out those feelings. You're not deserving of his resentment because he chose not to have bitlets. When he gets to know you better he feels all the worse for having been envious of you, and incredibly grateful that you would let him look after your sparkling. Even if the bitlet isn't his, Ratchet is attached to your offspring like no other and is always fussing after their (and your) care. If Drift notices a difference in Ratchet's demeanor, a certain wistfulness about him, he doesn't bring it up. He knows Ratchet would simply be reluctant to give himself what he wants, although Ratchet carrying the sparkling isn't the only option...

Whirl thinks it's hot. Okay, sure he thinks a lot of things are sexy that aren't supposed to be (that one time Brainstorm's optic was hanging from the socket, for example) but this one of normal! He insists. It's not everyday you meet a Cybertronian who has carried their own offspring. It's sort of an uncommon practice and definitely the most dangerous given the alternatives, but that's part of what makes it so sexy. Rung has informed him that is, actually, a little fucked up (not his words). Whirl would like to know what you looked like carrying. Not every carrier's frame will change drastically, in fact many don't if their armor is bulky enough, but maybe yours did. The fact your frame is so... powerful in a sense, resilient, and durable is kind of a turn on for him. But then again, Whirl gets heated if there's a gun pointed at him, so maybe it is fucked up. Your frame went through all the taxing processes of creating another Cybertronian, and you didn't die! What he wouldn't give to put your frame through it's paces again... Ultra Magnus has gently tried to convince you to get a restraining order against Whirl.

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Things I Can't Stop Thinking About Since the Gravity Falls Renaissance; An Overly Long Compilation

• It's mostly a joke-y cartoon thing but holy shit Dipper wakes up screaming kind of a lot??? How long has he been doing that for?? How long will he *be* doing it for??

• Stan had to basically teach himself advanced physics and complex multidimensional theories. He had the advantage of the portal mostly being built and having a bunch of the notes post-Bill, but still!! He had to learn how to operate the damn thing! I highly doubt Ford wrote about the portal in the same accessible manner he wrote about cryptids, especially as he spiraled into paranoia. The machinations of the portal weren't meant to be shared with the layperson, it just wouldn't be practical information for most people to have.

(also notable that he went through the whole process of learning how to operate the portal not only through pages and pages of dense code, but with the background of a 1970s highschool education and literally nothing else that would be relevant. Ford works really hard, but this is also stuff that comes to him very naturally. Designing a functioning portal wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting the idea for the portal in the first place and knowing what to do with it. This shit is so ridiculously advanced and Stan is not an academic mind by any means. No wonder it took 30 years, he had to keep up a fake life and fund his project while grinding away at advanced quantum physics interdimensional whatever science wizard nonsense. I think about those 30 years a lot.)

• It doesn't really get addressed, but I think about Wendy being "super stressed out, like, all the time!" A lot. God, can you imagine living in the same house as Manly Dan? Let alone being the only girl there? Especially depending on when their mom left/died, she probably felt incredibly alone for a lot of her teen years. And given the Apocalypse Training it doesn't seem like Manly Dan is the most stable parent either.

• Stan, Ford, and Wendy could probably bond over having shitty holidays (and subsequently being forced into having awesome holidays when Mabel found out.) Filbrick took Stan and Ford to get free cinder block samples for Hanukkah, and the Corduroys did apocalypse training every year instead of Christmas.

• Pacifica still hears the voice of the Lumberjack ghost in her nightmares, but it's implied on the website that the Lumberfolk spirits have actually declared her under their protection since the events of Northwest Mansion Mystery. That means one of two things: that the ghost in her dreams is just her own guilt-ridden brain, or that the ghost has been appearing in her dreams to try and help her. I think about both options frequently.

• Stan struggles a lot of the time with physical activity, but that's mostly to do with age. He's actually really goddamn strong (beating down the zombies, punching a pterodactyl in the face, grabbing Ford and hoisting him up off the ground no problem, scaling scaffolding and holding the twins up by a rope one-handed). This makes the fact that Wendy beat him in an arm wrestling contest three times in a row way funnier.

• The way the Stans were almost definitely completely willing to beat a random guys ass so that Waddles could get on that bus. Stanford "Your math is no match for my gun you idiot!" Pines implicitly threatened to shoot a stranger with a Weird Sci-Fi Firearm for his great-niece. Stanley is even more direct. There is no confusing what brass knuckles will to to you. I also absolutely believe that they were not bluffing. One of them would've stolen the bus if the guy had mysteriously fallen unconscious due to unforseen circumstances.

• According to Soos, Tad Strange is crushing hard on Woodpecker Guy. Is this general town knowledge? Does everybody know that the Woodpecker marriage is on the rocks? How does one divorce a woodpecker? Alternatively, how does one get divorced *by* a woodpecker? Does Tad have a chance? Is this a small town scandal? Mr. Hirsch inquiring minds want to know. Has Toby Determined written a gossip column on this drama yet. Get your head in the game, Toby

[sssammich]

fic: come what may

a/n: this is a continuation of THIS post which was inspired by the fanart. please give that fanart some love if you haven't, it was so very compelling to me and that's why we're here.

anyway read the first part and then come back to this lol

---

Lena retreated to the single stall washroom after graciously thanking everyone around her for their applause and cheering. In the quiet of the small space, she was able to think about the last five minutes of her life. 

It had been a week since she had spoken last with the caped hero, the word ‘villain’ rang in Lena’s ears still to this day. 

It had stung her, lanced through her more like. But in this world, she had no choice but to keep moving forward if only to survive. She knew that reintegrating Lex back into her life was a risk, but what was the alternative? To let back in the one person she’d trusted with so much of herself only to be the same one who broke Lena irreparably? It figured that they would be one in the same. Supergirl had a habit of being duplicitous, after all. 

Despite all of these thoughts, the dance had been more than she anticipated. For a brief moment in time, her world narrowed to the size of the dance floor when she and her former best friend twirled and glided across the space, held close to one another, swaying to the beat of the song.

Until Supergirl called out to her, the tenor of her voice bringing up a world long gone, the time together but a distant memory. Only to then ask her, “what’s your plan here, Lena?” 

The illusion broke through and shattered all around them, and her eyes darkened, her heart hardened. 

“You will never trust me,” she announced finally when she looked at Kara’s beautiful face, her equally beautiful blue eyes. Now, an enemy. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

She pulled away and turned, not sure she could look at that face again, anymore. Still, she would admit that it was enough consolation to see Supergirl on edge, to put her on her red-booted back foot.

She recalled turning her head slightly and caught enough of Supergirl's departure from the middle of the dance floor and into the evening sky. It gave her some satisfaction, but not nearly enough to placate the ache in her chest. 

Lena stared at her reflection; her makeup remained impeccably applied, impeccably in place despite the exertion of their dancing. The heat of Kara’s hands lingered all over her body, the warmth of those hands pressed into her, holding her in the illusion of safety as the song notes progressed. Her former best friend was clumsy in her movements, at least at first. It would have delighted Lena plenty to see Supergirl stumble her way through her movements. Yet, she held her own and led the two of them throughout the dance floor in an acceptable tango. On any other day, any other moment, she would have been charmed by it, let herself be led around so long as they stayed in each other's arms.

But those moments were no longer accessible to them. 

She returned to her guests and maneuvered through the compliments and conversations, but every now and again, she glanced up into the open sky. Just in case.

—

In the end, Lex was defeated and rid of once and for all. The details of it were fuzzy to her now, but none of it mattered. Simply that he was gone from her life for good, that he would no longer be a terror to anyone and everyone, to those she loved. 

Once again, however, she was left to pick up what remained of his ruinous rampage, if only to be surrounded by something beyond her isolation. 

It was just a few scant weeks ago that she’d reached a truce with Kara and her Superfriends (nevermind that she’d once thought of them as her own friends, as well). Now here she stood weeks later: alone. 

Lena had run out of options or excuses and finally sought out help from Kara without hope or expectation for true reconciliation or forgiveness, from either of them. They’d drawn their lines from one another so long ago, she’d considered them carved in stone. 

Now she stood on her empty balcony overlooking the city just after the sun had set and the sky was now engulfed in dark blue. 

Without a brother, a mother, a father. An orphan, twice over. It seemed that she was destined to live in solitude. They say no man was an island, yet perhaps Luthors were. 

She gazed at the last remnants of the setting sun across the horizon, not giving away that she heard the sound of a cape billowing at the far end of the balcony. She made no move to say or do anything, simply took a sip of the amber liquid in her glass. If Supergirl had anything to say, then Lena was not going to stop her. 

“How are you?” Kara finally said, after minutes trickled past them. 

She scoffed, unable to help herself. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Kara hovered outside of the balcony. She simply took another sip of her drink. 

Kara, never one to leave well enough alone, moved so that her feet touched the ground and she stood somewhere behind her. Lena closed her eyes and took a swig of all of her remaining drink. 

“You’re trespassing.” 

“I know.” 

“I can have you arrested.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

“A dance.” 

Lena quickly turned around, Kara standing only a few feet away, her arm outstretched. She glanced up and met blue eyes, an ocean of patience. 

Resigned, Lena unfurled the fist by her side and placed it in the offered hand. She took a step forward until their bodies were almost flush with one another, Kara’s other hand placed on the small of her back. An easy fit between them. A thought that Lena shoved into a box for rumination and reflection later on. 

“There’s no music,” she commented needlessly even as she put her free hand on Kara’s shoulder, her nerves manifesting in lightly scratching the fabric of the supersuit under her fingertips. 

“There’s always music.” Just then, Kara pulled her phone from a hidden compartment behind her and pressed the screen until soft music started playing. It was the final duet in Moulin Rouge between the two leads, where she and Kara shed a tear or two when they watched it in the past—a distant lifetime ago. They were now extraordinarily different people from those versions of themselves. 

“This musical was a tragedy.” 

The superhero shrugged, her eyes focused past Lena’s head. “I know.” 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Kara eventually returned her attention until their eyes met and Lena waited. She watched as Kara took a deep breath and offered Lena a cautious smile, resignation plastered on her own face. “I’m trying to tell you a lot of somethings.”

She studied Kara’s face, wanted to glean any kind of information from her features alone, but Kara betrayed nothing. “Start with one.” 

“I’ve been practicing.” When she furrowed her brows in confusion, Kara clarified by twirling Lena out of her embrace only to pull her back into her orbit once again. This time without bumbling through any of the movements nor without a stutter in her steps.  

The move surprised Lena enough to take her breath away, her senses suddenly alight as she considered what any of it meant. When? How? Why?

“Tell me another,” she whispered, her hands grasping tighter onto Kara just as the song started to swell. 

“I want to start over.” 

Lena stopped in her tracks so Kara did, too. Distantly, Lena observed that neither released their holds of one another.

“Why? We’ll only hurt each other.” 

“Maybe. Probably,” Kara supplied before tugging Lena back closer to her and swayed side to side to encourage Lena to do the same. “But life without you in it is infinitely worse, I think. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll take my chances.” 

Lena’s heart felt like it was getting catapulted across time and space. And maybe it was actually getting catapulted along with every sway she took with Kara. Still, she couldn’t help but push. “Even with a villain?” 

Kara grimaced slightly before flashing an apologetic smile. “Sure, Lena. Even with a villain.” 

“I was one, you know,” she offered, watching for Kara’s response. She was complicit, had gotten her own hands dirty. She owned up to that. 

“I know.” But Kara simply shrugged and brought them closer. “Believe it or not, I’ve been one, too. You’re not exactly very special in that department, Lena.” 

A small laugh that bubbled out of her caught her off guard, and Kara smiled at her before spinning her away and back together again until Lena hid her face against the crook of Kara’s neck until the song finally ended. 

They parted from each other, Kara taking a step back until she was a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. 

“Thanks for the dance,” Kara said. 

“You’ve gotten better.” 

“I appreciate that. It means the practice has been paying off.” As if nodding to herself, Kara gave her a smile and began to turn so as to take off into the night sky, but Lena stopped her. 

“Tell me one more,” she urged, realizing she didn’t want their interaction to end quite yet. 

Kara then looked over her shoulder. “Can I come back tomorrow?” 

“If you’d like.” 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” 

Kara’s body twisted so she was looking at Lena more fully. “Goodnight, Lena.” 

“Goodnight, Kara.” 

Lena watched as she took off into the sky, disappearing into the night. She’d stayed out there for a little while longer, the heat of her drink coursing through her veins while the moment between them warmed her against the cool breeze that passed through. 

Nothing had yet been fixed, and there was a long road ahead of them. But something in her caged heart had loosened, allowing her to breathe again. That was a start.