#but only about halfway through the first book

[flowerywoso]

the babysitter || irene paredes x reader

Summary: You've had a thing for Irene ever since you started babysitting for her. When she comes home after a night out with the team, you realize that your feelings might not be as one-sided as you thought they were. Pairing: Irene Paredes x Reader Words: 3,992 Warnings: 🔞, smut with plot Notes: I haven't written anything in quite awhile (I honestly wasn't planning on writing ever again but here we are), so this might be a little rough! Please don't hesitate to let me know (politely, please!) if you notice any horrible grammatical errors or notes to myself that I somehow forgot to take out. Do not post my works on Ao3. And I am horrible at titles.

You peek your head into the room once more, carefully easing the door open and, just as quickly, shut, once you determine that the toddler is definitely still asleep. It’s a habit you adopted after your friends began to have their own children, and one you’ve maintained for the kids you babysit. Tiptoeing back down the hallway, making sure to keep your footfalls as quiet as you can, you plop back down on the sofa, settling into the corner and taking a sip of your sparkling water, grabbing your novel and flipping it back open as you wait for the boy’s mother to return home.

It’s not that much later, only long enough for you to finish a single chapter of your book, before you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, announcing Irene’s return from the Barcelona squad’s night out. You don’t get up from the couch, merely setting your novel aside and uncrossing your legs, letting one dangle off the cushions.

She enters the room quietly, the low heels she’d left the apartment in abandoned on the mat by the front door so they don’t click on the wood floors, and when you look up you can see the flush on her face. You're not sure if it's the result of the chilly evening air or of her night out, but either way it's enough to make you swallow around a lump in your throat. The top and pants she'd left the house in are just as enticing now as they were several hours ago, and you wonder as she walks further into the apartment how you manage to stay sane around her.

“Hola,” she says quietly, setting her purse down in the center of the coffee table and taking a seat beside you on the sofa, sighing in relief as she relaxes into the cushions after a long night out. Your heart, as it so often does in the presence of the older woman, skips a beat as she comes nearer to you.

“How was everything?”

“All good,” you reply, beginning to recount your evening with Mateo. As always, the toddler had been easy, listening to you as well as one could expect a two-year-old to, and had fallen asleep on the sofa halfway through an episode of Bluey, only stirring briefly when you carried him to bed.

“He ate most of his dinner,” you relay with a smile, shaking your head at the memory of how the toddler had wrinkled his nose at the "yucky green" you'd provided for him, far more enthusiastic about the special treat that was the chicken nuggets unearthed from the freezer. “We had a bit of a struggle with the veggies, but other than that he was a perfect angel, like always.”

Your words bring a smile to the older woman’s face, and you can’t help but stop in your tracks for a moment, transfixed by the way her lips perk upwards, faint lines around her eyes becoming visible. You’ve seen her take an extra minute in the bathroom more than once after you arrive in the evenings, trying to conceal the bags beneath her eyes or the smile lines beginning to form at the corners, but you think that each and every part of her face is a work of art. 

You had no idea, when you first started babysitting for her, just how quickly your feelings for the older woman would grow. In the stolen moments at the beginning and end of the nights, before one of you walks out the door, you've learned more and more about Irene Paredes the person, not just the footballer, and something about her kept drawing you further and further in. You couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but you knew that you wanted her.

“Did you have a good night?”

Irene shrugs, shaking her head with a fond smile as she tells you about the Barcelona squad’s night out. She had mostly stayed on the sidelines alongside the other older players, keeping an eye on the girls closer to your own age as they enjoyed themselves, but Pina and Cata had managed to coax her and Alexia into having a drink and dance before she had excused herself.

The thought of Irene on the dance floor makes your heart pound, imagination beginning to run wild.

You’ve never been to Manuela’s, but from the way you’ve heard Irene describe it, there's absolutely no shortage of beautiful women. You know from the bits of information she’s given you that the Barcelona girls normally stick with one another, even while they’re out, but you’ve never been able to help yourself from wondering if any of the beautiful girls who frequent the club have tempted her enough that she’s taken one of them to her bed.

It's that thought, the unpleasant idea of her tangled between the sheets with a nameless, faceless girl from the club that makes your chest hurt. Before you fully notice what you're doing, you open your mouth and begin to speak, some jumbled mixture of thoughts spilling from between your traitorous lips.

"I mean if... If you ever wanted to stay out later... If someone..."

You trail off, clamping your lips shut as you realize just how inappropriate what you're implying is. You cringe, cursing yourself as you watch for her reaction, wait for her to get up off the couch and hand you your bags, let you know that now might be a good time for you to go home.

But she doesn't. Instead, all the older woman does is fix you with a questioning gaze, seemingly losing herself in thought for a moment.

She’s seated closer to you than she normally would be, than she ever has been before, and for a moment you wonder if she can hear your heart as it pounds in your chest, speeding up as she enters your space. You aren’t sure if it’s your imagination, the way her eyes seem to have fixed on you, tracing the details of your flushing face, eyes following your bottom lip as you nervously run your teeth over it.

“No,” she says at last. “None of the girls there have ever been who I wanted.”

Something about the word there catches your attention as it leaves her mouth, and you're certain that you must be losing your mind. Because there's no way, no way in the world that she wants you the way you want her.

The older woman reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you’re fairly certain that you’ve stopped breathing. Her hand pauses by your left cheek, which you're absolutely certain is flushing redder than the cap on her cherry flavored chapstick.

And suddenly, before you can even fully process the fact that her soft but strong hands are cupping your scarlet cheeks, the older woman is leaning forward and pressing her lips to yours.

You must have imagined this moment a thousand times, but never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it would actually come true. The older woman’s mouth is soft but insistent against your own, exploring your lips with hers, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had is a distant memory as you move with her, kissing her back.

Kissing Irene is even better than you imagined it would be - and you could fill a planner with the amount of times you’ve imagined this exact scenario. Her mouth is gentle, but there’s an edge to her kiss that contains a promise, the knowledge that she’s capable of being anything but.

When your lips finally part, after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, you let out a little gasp, pupils blown wide as Irene stares into your eyes, both of you trying to process what has just happened. Even though she’s the one who kissed you first, Irene seems just as shocked as you are. But, behind her wide eyes is the same feeling you know she can easily spot in your own.

Desire.

“I… Fuck.”

You’re the one who leans forward this time, lips pressing against the older woman’s, the faint flavor of alcohol on her lips mixed with a hint of cherry from the chapstick you’ve seen her spread across her mouth more than once. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, and you can feel it going straight between your legs.

This kiss is deeper than the first, your arms wrapping around her strong shoulders to pull her closer, wanting to feel her body against your own. You part momentarily, gasping for air and only managing a brief breath before she’s kissing you again, every movement raising the stakes. You whine as her lips meet yours once more, hands coming to rest on your hips, pulling you closer. The older woman uses her own lips to pry yours open, her claiming tongue slipping into your mouth and beginning to explore further.

You let her take control of the kiss without protest, the arousal between your thighs intensifying exponentially with every second her body spends this close to your own. 

“Fuck,” she gasps, breaking away from your lips only long enough to grunt in your ear. “Fuck, I want you so badly.”

All you can do is nod, shaking your head up and down in agreement, because you don’t think you’ve ever wanted another person this badly in your entire life. 

“Irene,” you whine, pressing impossibly closer to her. “Please.” 

“Can I touch you?”

You’re nodding again before the question has even fully left her lips, and the older woman’s pupils go dark with how eager she is for you. She kisses you again, her football player’s strength showing as she pushes you backward onto the sofa, hands working their way up under your shirt. She doesn’t bother with the clasp of your bra, instead slipping her hands beneath the fabric to cup your breasts. Separating her lips from yours with a low groan, Irene immediately begins tracing a path over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a further wave of shivers up and down your spine. You moan quietly, remembering that you two aren’t alone in the apartment, but tilt your head anyway, granting her better access to your throat.

Advantage is rapidly taken, the Barcelona player letting a hint of teeth scrape across the delicate flesh of your throat as she rolls one of your nipples between her fingers, moaning quietly at the way you arch, pressing your chest further into her touch. 

Your nipples aren’t normally this sensitive, but something about the way Irene rolls and tugs at them makes the two buds feel as if they’re direct links to your most sensitive spot. Her touch is magical, and all you want is more.

As if the older woman can read your mind, the hand not busy exploring your chest slides further down, slipping under your black leggings and making you gasp, bringing a hand up to muffle your own sounds as long fingers begin to rub at your pussy over your panties. 

There’s far too much fabric between the two of you, and every thread feels like a cage. You need it off, need the last bits of separation between your heat and her touch gone, now. 

“Off,” Irene commands and, needing the barrier gone just as badly as you do, she doesn’t wait for you to obey before she’s hooking her own fingers in the waistband of your leggings, yanking them down over your legs. Your panties are removed in the same motion, both pieces of fabric coming to rest at your ankles. You try to kick them fully off, but only manage to completely free one leg before the older woman is pushing her way between your thighs, eagerly beginning to explore your bare pussy.

Her experience is clear from the first touch of her slender fingers against your naked heat, and you can’t help but press closer, spreading your legs further to give her better access. The older woman draws in a sharp breath as she circles your clit gently with one finger, exploring, watching for your reactions, the others gathering the rapidly accumulating wetness at your entrance. Irene's touch is electric, and the older woman finds herself becoming rapidly obsessed with the way your clit seems to plead for her touch.

With two of her fingers, Irene traces the outline of your pussy, hyper aware of just how wet you are, how your hole is begging silently for her fingers inside as she continues to rub your clit.

You let your eyes fall shut, eagerly anticipating just how good it will feel when the fingers you can sense lingering just shy of your entrance finally slide home, burying themselves inside your welcoming cunt. You’re practically pulsing with it, with how badly you need her inside, need to know just how she’ll fill you, what previously unknown spots inside the tips of her long fingers will be able to brush.

“Where do you want my fingers, bebita?” 

You whine, shifting your hips in an attempt to get even closer to her, to get her to slide her fingers into your throbbing heat. The digits, wet from your own slick, only withdraw further away from your needy hole, and you nearly sob with how badly you need the older woman, need her touch. 

Obvious as it may be, this nonverbal expression of how desperate you are for her to take you isn’t enough to satisfy the older woman, and she rubs your inner thigh soothingly. 

“Use your words, baby,” she coaxes. “Tell me where you need my fingers.”

The idea of using your words seems borderline impossible at the moment, your brain simply too overwhelmed with the reality of just how close her fingers are to slipping inside, but you can tell that you won’t get what you need until you do.

“My pussy,” you manage to whine, trying to stay as quiet as possible while pulsing with the need for her. “Please, Irene, I need your fingers in my cunt.”

Your words, base and simple as they are, are enough to get you what you need, and when Irene finally slides her fingers home, you can’t conceal the moan that tears its way free from your throat. You’re wet enough that the stretch of going from zero to two fingers inside your cunt brings nothing but pleasure, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning aloud when you feel the ridges of her fingers settle against your walls, the older woman pausing for a moment to let you adjust to the feeling of her digits inside.

Irene has to swallow a wrecked noise of her own as she finally slides her fingers inside your soaking pussy, the sensation of your silky walls against her skin sending her brain into overdrive. The sound of your voice, desperation tinging your whispers as you plead for her to move, to fuck you, is absolute music to her ears, and she doesn’t hesitate to comply with the enticing request. 

Her pace is slow at first as she starts to move, the older woman eagerly exploring every curve and contour of your cunt, leaking around her fingers. It’s so warm and inviting, and the older woman has no idea how she’s lasted this long without knowing what feel like inside.

Once she’s sure you’ve fully adjusted to the stretch of her digits inside of you, Irene speeds up her thrusts, curling her fingers in search of the most sensitive spots hidden inside your pretty cunt. 

It’s clear when she finds what she’s looking for, because your cunt clenches down around her fingers and you squeeze your pretty eyes shut as pleasure rocks your body. 

“Oh,” she says, voice a whisper that tickles your ear and makes you shudder happily. “Is that where you need me?”

You nod desperately, the entirety of your reality reduced to the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive tissue inside you, stroking it insistently as her thumb comes to brush against your swollen clit. As she fucks you with her fingers, the older woman tests out different motions on your bud with her thumb, searching for the pattern and pace to take what’s left of your breath away. 

You can’t help but let out a cry as she presses a little harder, circling your needy clit at just the right angle. Irene quickly presses her lips to yours again, reminding you that you’re not alone in the apartment.

“Shh,” the older woman says, swallowing your noises with her own tongue, collecting each one. “You’ve still gotta be quiet for me, bebita.”

You nod in understanding, kissing her back desperately, bringing a hand up to tangle in her hair. You can be quiet, no matter how good it feels, you can be quiet, just so long as she doesn’t stop what she’s doing between your legs. Irene chuckles against your lips, redoubling her efforts between your legs. Her talented fingers thrust in and out of your pussy, each time hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispers, lips right beside your ear. “That’s it, take it for me. Take it, just like that.”

You toss your head back, more than willing to comply. Every cell of your body feels like it’s on fire, and you want nothing more than for the burning to consume you completely. 

Your orgasm arrives without warning, Irene’s thumb on your swollen clit combined with her talented fingers inside your cunt sending you crashing over the edge with a fury you haven’t felt in a long time. You have to bite down on your lip to keep in your sounds as your it overwhelms you, nails digging into Irene’s bare shoulders. You can feel the older woman’s smile as she kisses your neck, fingers still moving gently inside you, working you through your climax, helping you ride it for as long as you can.

You shudder, aftershocks still shaking your body as you begin to come down from your peak. She slides her fingers out and you bite down on your kiss-swollen lip to keep yourself from whining at the loss. It takes another minute before you're able to gather yourself, fully opening your eyes and taking in the sight of the gorgeous older woman above you.

Irene presses another kiss to your lips, this one gentle, and you can feel the smile on her face as you give a final shudder, sitting up and leaning into her.

"How was that, bebita?"

"Fucking perfect," you reply, unable to conceal a grin of your own as you note how flushed her face still is. Knowing that touching you has her seemingly almost as worked up as you are sends a thrill through your body and you reach for the button of her jeans, aiming to return the favor, only for the same pair of hands that had just brought you to such an incredible orgasm to push yours down, Irene’s lips brushing against your forehead.

“Don’t you worry about me, baby,” she says, and you feel your heart sink with sudden disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

Irene wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, clearly oblivious to the way your shoulders sink. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

You blush, wanting to protest that getting to touch her would be just about the furthest thing away from a worry- dream or fantasy come to life would be a more accurate description- but a sudden wave of shyness overcomes you, the whiplash of going from the high of your orgasm to the valley of being denied an opportunity to make Irene feel as good as she’s just made you feel making your throat close up.

“O-Oh,” you say quietly. “Okay. I just…”

You trail off, not sure what to say to that. It feels like, without meaning to or realizing what she’s done, the Barcelona defender has just tossed a bucket of ice water over you.

“I… I guess I should head home then,” you say quietly, trying not to let her hear the hurt in your voice, reaching down and pulling your leggings back up over your calves and thighs until they rest around your middle. Your panties aren’t quite soaked, for the pure fact that they had been around your ankles soon after her lips first met yours, but they’re still wet enough that putting them back on isn’t exactly comfortable. 

And more than that, you don’t want to leave. Your body is still purring with the aftermath of your orgasm, the last thing you want to do right now is leave her apartment and walk the few blocks home to your own. The route between your apartment and Irene’s is one you know well, lit with plenty of streetlamps and well-frequented on a Saturday night, so any anxiety you might feel can be connected purely to leaving her after what’s just happened, without being certain where you stand. 

Irene opens her mouth and you pause with your hand on the knob, waiting, hoping that she’ll say something, offer her bed to share for the night. 

“Let me know when you get home safe,” she says quietly, and you can’t help the way your chest clenches with a strange sort of pain. You hadn’t really expected her to offer for you to stay, not with the amount of eyes that could be watching someone like her at any given moment, but you still can’t help but wish she had.

You nod in response to her question, clutching your bag close to your side as you shut the door behind yourself, beginning the short walk home.

...

“Fuck.”

The second the door shuts behind you, the defender wishes she could throw it open again and call you back in.

She had wanted to, especially after watching you come apart under her touch, seeing how pretty you looked as your orgasm overwhelmed you. The words had been on the tip of her tongue, but you had beaten her to it, reaching for the door handle and exiling yourself before she could even offer, and she hadn’t offered any protests. 

Peeking in the door, ensuring that Mateo is still safe and sound in his bed, the Barcelona player tiptoes quietly down the hall, two doors down, and pushes her own door open and shut behind her.

As she pulls off her top, letting it fall to the floor, quickly followed by her pants and bra, Irene curses herself, pulling back the covers and slipping into the too-big bed on her own. It feels cold compared to the contrast of your warm body against her own, and her chest pangs with the regret of not asking you to stay the night. 

Back in your own apartment, you slide beneath your own covers, mind racing at a million miles an hour.

No matter how your chest might ache at the fact that you’re here, alone in your own bed, the memory of the older woman’s lips on yours, of her talented fingers bringing you to orgasm right there on the sofa, of muffling your moans in her shoulder, still sends a familiar jolt of electricity between your thighs. With a soft whine, you reach for your the bedside drawer where you keep your vibrator, turning it up before pressing it against your still-swollen clit.

Blocks away, Irene is doing the same, quietly gasping out a much-needed orgasm with your name on her lips, the memory of your mouth on hers and your silken flesh beneath her fingertips sending her over the edge.

As the older woman drifts off into an uneasy slumber, the space beside her conspicuously empty, she knows that, now she's had you once, she won't ever be able to get enough.

[krystinag11]

The first couple of days back in The Manor were certainly interesting, Dick had insisted on staying in The Manor partly out of worry, curiosity and blackmail, what kind of brother would he be if he didn't stop to take pictures of his little brother failing at his new powers. Jay thought it would be nice if Dick would stop using him as a life-size Teddy bear, he was acting like someone died or something. Jason did find it quite entertaining to watch Bruce and Dick try not to fight by instead glaring at each other from across the breakfast table.

Jason was rereading pride and prejudice, when it's simply slipped through his hands, falling onto the ground with a loud bang. Jason looked at his hands and tried to pick up his book again, only for his hand to go straight through it. Trying not to panic and thinking back to what Constantine had said, this must be what he was talking about. His train of thought was interrupted when Bruce and Dick came running into the room like someone was dying and started fussing over Jason. He tried to push them away, but his hands just went straight through them, causing the others to shiver. That's when his legs apparently decided to go intangible, and he slipped halfway through the floor, Bruce quickly grabbed him under the armpits like a misbehaving toddler and yanking him out of the ground. All three of them were panicking as Alfred appears in the room with a tray of tea and biscuits ready to run damage control.

He was falling, he had to be, or he was dreaming, he wasn't sure which. He could feel the air moving around him, he flipped onto his stomach so he could see the ground as he approached it, suddenly inches away from the ground he felt air resistance as something opened up on his back like his cape or something but much bigger ,it picked up a draft, and suddenly he was soaring through the air. He looked back to see what had caught the wind only to see a pair of fire coloured wings on his back. That is when he woke up, so it was a dream. But he still felt that strange weight on his back, this time for real, he once again turned his head to see what was on his back to see. It was those exact same wings from his dream resting on the bed beside him. He Let out a quiet yell of surprise. He sat there looking at his new appendages waiting for something to happen, when he heard a knock on the door It was Bruce, he knew it was Bruce, he did want his comfort, but he didn't know if he wanted his Dad to see him like this. The need for comfort won out, and he called out for his father to come in. When he did enter the room, You look confused and started to looked around the room like he couldn't see Jason. This confused Jason for a bit until he looked down at his hands and saw that he couldn't see them either, letting out a small yelp, he faded back into the visible spectrum causing Bruce's eyes quickly snapped to him, He looked shocked for a moment before quickly composing himself and striding forward to comfort his son.

That's what it looked like for the next couple of days. Hewas constantly falling through floors, dropping things, turning invisible, and starting to float randomly, It was awful Bruce had called in a couple of his contacts to help Jason learn how to control his powers. Martian Manhunter was one of the biggest help, or he was until he started setting things on fire. A couple of weeks after Zatanna started coming around to help Jason with some of the other powers that they didn't have a specialist for, a lady in Gothic attire with Bat signals for eyes and a complexion made of stone appeared. Zatanna said that it was the spirit of Gotham she ruffled Jason's hair before quickly disappearing back into the Shadows of the cave, from that point on Jason started to notice that his shadow seem to have a mind of its own and occasionally when he stepped back into the Shadows to observe not even Alfred could see him. He noticed that he was also able to use the Shadows to travel from one side of the Manor to the other.

His form did in fact change. It went from the inverted and shredded Robin costume to a fully red costume with slightly darker explosion details along the left side. White combat boots with tiny little flame details on the top of the boots. White gloves and utility belt. His burn scars from the explosion were a light green, his eye on that side of his face was a toxic red with a cat-like pupil. On the unburnt side His eyes were covered with a Half of a white Domino mask with a green lens. His ears in this form were now point and elf like. His hair was inverted from his human form the black was now white, and the white was now black, where his Robin R used to be now set a stylized P with the beginning line curved like a J, of course the biggest change was the pair of wings now on his back wrapped in fire.

Jason did try to look into his soulmate, but nothing came up, there was no trace of him anywhere online. He would have to keep looking and digging deeper, but now he finally started to get his powers under control and Bruce told him he would let him patrol with supervision next week, so at least there was something to look forward to, he couldn't wait to scare the shit of some criminals.

-----

Tim was starting to get worried Robin had been missing for more than 6 months now. Batman didn't seem to violent like he did when Nightwing moved out but, he did seem upset. He was taking more hits than usual. There was no word about Jason Todd sense his trip to Ethiopia. Bruce Wayne also seemed distant but at least Nightwing was back in town he and Batman didn't patrol together but, he was still there and that's what matters.

Or he might just be a liar cause that was Batman and Nightwing swinging across the Gotham skyline. Snapping a couple pictures he did not notice the humanoid shadow that was following Batman's ear twitch and begin to move in his direction. He did not notice as the shadow began to follow him, watching over his shoulder as he took pictures of Batman and Nightwing.

Dead on main soulmate prompt:

You and your soul die at the same time when you dead or are near death is the only time the the red string of fate is visible.

Bruce is holding his son as he takes his final death the string had appeared minutes ago. He's begging his son not to leave him to just hold on a little longer, begging the Red thread to leave and let his son live. He should have learned to be careful what he wished for as Jason's breath start to stutter more and more a surge of toxic green takes over the red of the string. Jason screams as his hair turns white.

[shhrrroooommmmmyyyyyy]

S1: The Birb's Feelings

(pt 1.5 for episode 7 and 2 for season 2 idk when cause shit's crazy rn)

Stolas is one of the most morally controversial characters in the show. With the show revolving around Blitz's relationships, it's natural that the show gives us the most information about him because he is arguably Blitz's most complicated relationship at the moment (I'm not going to include Barbie bc we've literally only seen her for like 5 minutes in one episode which isn't enough information). I wanted to do a quick overview of how I perceive Stolas's feelings throughout the duration of the show in sort of a timeline format

~Episodes 1, 2, 5~

So, at first, it's obvious Stolas doesn't really think of Blitz too romantically and mostly sexually. Ok, completely sexually. However, there's a reason why that people often overlook sometimes. Stella openly said in the season 2 premiere that the only time him and her had sex was to have Octavia. Man's literally been deprived of anything enjoyably sexual his whole life. So when he finally does have sex that's enjoyable for the first time, he naturally wants more of it

As we all know, Stolas isn't the most self aware king (or should I say prince) out there (which is okay; he's still growing and developing as a character). The way he treats Blitz in these first few episodes sort of gives off sex toy vibes. Obviously, this is where Blitz gets that mindset from, that all he is is just a toy for Stolas

But after seeing what Stolas' true personality is now, I highly doubt Stolas knew exactly how he was treating Blitz during this time. Again, self awareness issues. Natural part of his character that, after watching Viv's writing since the Hazbin pilot first released (yeah og right here), I'm positive will be developed on later in the show. So hold your horses people, we're just now 2 episodes away from only being halfway through with the show. Give it time, it'll happen

Anyways, Stolas isn't a bad person (I'll fight anyone over this take, dont play). But he does the wrong things with the right intentions. He treated Blitz the way he did in these first few episodes because Blitz was the first person he's ever enjoyed having sex with. It's a big deal to him as it sort of "awakened" him. I think he was so happy about the sex after around 35 years of nothing, he didn't fully realize how he was treating Blitz in the process

*Not an excuse, but simply a possible explanation for his actions*

~Episode 6~

My favorite episode. Stolas shows up when I.M.P.'s sort of cornered by the agents and scares them shitless with his scawy big birb form. First he makes sure Blitz is okay, then he scolds him for getting caught. Almost like a mother who's mad but cares for their well-being (crying in ghostfuckers)

This may seem small to you guys, but for me this was when Stolas became my favorite character. Not only did this moment show he's more than just the cringy comedic horny relief, it also showed that he cared. Why would he ask if Blitz is okay if he didn't care about him? That has nothing to do with the book. If it got in possession of humans he could literally just kill them in like a second and take it back. Tbh (dont come after me pls) but before this episode I didn't like my first impression of Stolas. Despite the many takes calling the cringiness of his lines in the first few episodes "iconic", I hated it. It was just too much

And in this scene it's not just that he's asking in general, it's how gentle he's being with Blitz. Holding his face and speaking a bit softer with a caring expression on his face. I love it so much (aggghghhghghgahhaagh). I know his attitude changes after a few seconds, but still it was a nice moment that reshaped my perspective on his character for basically the rest of the show

*Like I said before I'l give episode 7 it's own post cause i'm too tired and there's so much to talk abt in that episode*

[ode-to-fury]

Guys there will be absolutely no one who even comes close to getting this but Rhys from acotar and Kyle Haven from the liveship trilogy would have been just the absolute Best of Friends

[theartingace]

So after many people kept putting some very confusing posts somehow connect by a mysterious book series on my dash I finally borrowed Gideon the Ninth from the library and dear lord. I'm halfway through I was not expecting to love this strange conglomeration of settings, tropes and characters as much as I do. Excellent vibe, delightful writing style and use of first person, love this meathead enjoying her vacation locked in a haunted rundown murder-monastery very interested to see how literally any of the posts I have seen regarding this series winds up relating to what I have read so far.

[tempestmothstorm]

Ough these are all so good may I suggest some more ideas because this post has invaded my thoughts for over a week

Act 1 is gonna be mostly normal, but there’s a few hand written pen notes in the margins making sly remarked about the cheesy writing. I think Monika’s effects can range from directly editing and redacting text to writing with pen when she wants to speak directly with you. For the experience of some rando picking up the book at a library, it might seem like the last owner just vandalized the book to write random editors notes, only for it’s comments to slowly become weirder until it’s revealed that it was write by one of the characters in an attempt to speak directly to you.

This only exists as random quips up until the final part with Sayori where it doesn’t really describe the scene but instead just had mc’s thoughts like a stream of consciousness, up until he starts repeating the word never, where it repeats into the next few pages with a single line made up with that singular word, repeating over and over until is turns into the silhouette of a hanging corpse. Only then does the reader know what happened

Never

Never

Never

Never

Never

Never

And after a few blank pages, the hand writing of the previous owner appears, almost acting as if this was a silly accident.

“Geez, this draft went pretty badly! I don’t even know is where else to take this! Maybe I should just start over?”

After skipping through a ripped page, the story seemingly starts over as if nothing ever happened

This is where act 2 starts, at page 1 again under the ruse of a different draft, making the book seem like an incomplete project you weren’t meant to see. It’s starts the same as the first page, but now it’s got all that house of leaves spooks in there. Some examples or ideas include

When introducing the club, it reads something like this. Similar to house being written slightly different in house of leaves, so will Monika every time her name shows up

And ████, Yuri, Natsuki, and Monika all seem nice enough anyways.

Altered text can be in different fonts similar to the one with Monika’s name

or it could be overlayed onto of the original text, effectively making it unreadable as if Monika tried and failed to replace it

It could also look to be manually scribbled out with pen

Or it could have a whole text box covering a paragraph halfway through it, making pretty clear that the following words aren’t supposed to be there

Also more ripped pages. I think if this existed in real life the book would instantly become way more expensive lol

Maybe some of the secret poems can be in the text boxes, randomly being inserted midway through a page and interrupting whatever else was going on

I think when Yuri starts talking about the portrait of markov it’ll show an excerpt in the first act, but by the second act it becomes the blackout ‘nothing is real’ secret poem

Actually more blackout poems in general as Monika tries to censor more words. Blackout poems are cool

In more of the moments where Monika talks directly to the player like in the big argument scene or one of Yuri’s monologues where she slowly fades in, her dialogue will be written in pen instead of any typeface

Those text files like iiiiiii.txt and stuff also show up as tiny pen notes overlapping the actual text, writing over the scene but faint enough that you could probably ignore it

Those scenes where the game forgets it ever happens (like the play with me and water fountain scene) could have a paragraph get cut off by the page limit with the next page being ripped out and the next not following where the paragraph left off at all

Yuri’s death scene plays out like a normal scene where the narrator doesn’t acknowledge how insane everything Yuri says even is, until it gets to the part where she stabs herself where the text is suddenly cut off by a garbled mess of meaningless words, messed up fonts, redacted text, and several ink splatters. This goes on for several pages until Natsuki shows up for a quick paragraph before leaving, allowing Monika to enter

Yuri pulls out a knife and sta████████

I honestly don’t know how the whole deleting thing works in a book. Logictics wise the story requires a few stretches to make a book, but it could work out. I think in the story, text is the only way the characters can interact with the real world, with Monika being able to edit it herself (this implies she can’t operate a writing program the same way she can’t code. L) I guess instead of the the command panel announcing everyone’s character files being deleted, she’ll just type out that everyone died, with her writing taking over the narrator making the edits a reality.

After a few ripped pages the next empty page has nothing but Monika’s handwritten pen, stating that she’s been the one to write all those notes and that now that she can talk to you directly she’s finally not alone. What follows is a bunch of her act 3 talks, writes mostly in pen with a few things like her poem and hidden text files write in the regular typeface when making edits to the book.

I have no idea how to end this, especially since deleting character files doesn’t translate as well into a book. But yeah act 4 plays out as it does in game before, with Sayori suddenly being able to edit the book and also write with the pen too, just with different handwriting to Monika.

Monika ends up scribbling over the rest of the pages before leaving a few ripped out. The final paragraphs are on the inside of the book cover way after the copyright page where she says her final goodbyes and writes the lyrics to your reality

Ok that’s it this idea is cool

I wonder what DDLC would be like novelised. How they would transition from the cutesty façade into the horror. I could imagine the formatting of the book glitching like the game does, maybe some pages have the wrong page number, the font, color and size of the text changing, seemingly blank pages that have very faint text on them that you can only see if you look super closely, codes hidden in paragraphs, how Monika trying to break out of the story into reality would be portrayed, etc

[they-didnt-last]

anyone interested in talking about the iconic 2000's middle-grade-bordering-on-ya book series gallagher girls??

[hussyknee]

If you aren't reading KJ Charles's books I sincerely do not know what you're doing with your life.

[mintmentos]

I’m so sorry what is going on in the bridgerton books. Like where are my lavish descriptions of the dresses. The ballrooms. You’re telling me they danced a waltz. A dance ladies had to have permission to dance. And you were focussed on the conversation and not the intimacy of being held and moving as one round a ballroom while staring into your partner’s eyes like they’re the only person who exists??

[vt-scribbles]

Please RB for bigger sample size!

[bridonebrere]

since i'm almost done with it, this is your heartfelt end-of-year exhortation to read the glass bead game. if only because i'm sick of being the only person gayjosephknechtposting on tumblr dot com

[continuousmeowing]

????AO3 MENTION IN THE BOOK IM READING?????WHAT??????

[unicornwithachainsaw83]

You know what? Fuck it. *makes Kingdom Keepers oc*

[terpia]

I'm reading Quicksand by Junichiro Tanizaki and god, it's such an interesting reading experience. I don't know what the censorship laws were like in Japan in the 1920s and how they/the culture of the time shaped the portrayal of certain topics in the novel, but reading a book from the 1920s that openly talks about sex, abortion and sexuality (and in my translation at least, straight up uses words like lesbian, homosexual, heterosexual, etc.) is such a novel experience.

Also, and I feel it's worth mentioning, every single character in this novel is fucking insane.

[rowenabean]

Controversial opinion incoming I'm not that much a fan of The Lost Metal I feel like we spent 6 books establishing how the world works (twice, but at least they were in continuity with each other) and now you're telling me that actuality it Doesn't

[bestshipsmackdown]

Can you tell us which ships have more votes so far or would you rather not ?

I’ll tell you the top ship submitted at the moment is Percy x Annabeth! Honestly there’s enough submissions for it on its own that it’s qualifying regardless of if it gets more submissions or not.

It’s been so long since I read PJO and I never finished the series because I was trying to read it around the time high school took away my love of reading physical books.

But honestly I think it’s really neat that that’s the one at the preliminary front of the pack!